LI GOES TO THE VOMITORIUM

It is nice to see that some of the bigfoots – Greider and Krugman, and even the Bushite pinhead, Sebastian Mallaby in the WAPO – are coming out of the shrubbery to denounce the Treasury department’s theft in the offing. The NYT, in contrast, has set Peter Baker to the task of licking up a monument of bubble gum and marble for those two superheroes of this Bushian time, Paulson and Bernanke. Baker is the man for the task: on the Washington Post, he strove mightily to apologize for mass murder and torture, covering President Backbone with the same objectivity that might be expected from one of Nero’s catamites, reviewing Nero’s acting abilities in the Coliseum. His description of the brain (Bernanke) and the man of action (Paulson) is like a Damien Hirst piece, if Hirst took to carving Pierrots out of his own shit: it is kitsch cast in excrement:


“The two men have been working early and working late, tracking Asian markets and fielding calls from their European counterparts, then reconnecting with each other by phone eight or nine times a day, talking so often that they speak in shorthand. Mr. Paulson has powered through the long days with a steady infusion of Diet Coke. Asked twice to testify by the Senate last week, he begged off.

“He told me he had like four hours of sleep,” said Senator Christopher J. Dodd, Democrat of Connecticut and chairman of the Banking Committee. But there were limits to Mr. Dodd’s sympathy. “The public wants to know what’s going on,” he said he replied.

Mr. Bernanke (his drink: Diet Dr Pepper) has made a point of leaving the office by midnight to get at least some rest, but friends say the toll on him is clear as well. Alan S. Blinder, a longtime friend and former vice chairman of the Federal Reserve, recalled seeing Mr. Bernanke at a conference last month in Jackson Hole, Wyo. “He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders,” Mr. Blinder said.
And that was before last week.”

Baker, whose effusions about the heroic, surge-right Bush in the NYT Magazine a couple of weeks ago did had a dramatic effect on LI (we wanted to vomit after the first couple of paragraphs) is in the fortunate position of the right sycophant at the right moment, and one can feel him wiggling with excitement. And he has that eye, doesn’t he: diet Dr. Pepper. Don’t you feel his maternal, servile ache as he longs to perhaps bring one of his action heros, a true Batmen out to free Gotham from its bad debts, another can. He understands, as does the NYT, that this huge crisis in the Bandit class can only be assuaged by an obsessive, massive theft that will make our successful and oh so smart masters feel, well, masculine again; one that will exist like a burning yearning brand on the hides of Americanus bovus, all of us lower downs: bought and sold at undermarket prices. But of course, we out here in the fields, we cant understands theft! So hard! Maybe the smarter peoples will figure it all out for us! Then we votes for them!

Of course, in the UK, the New Labourites have already figured this out and have translated it into the ineffable language of toadeating. This is one of the Blairites, explaining, oh so delicately, that we can’t, just can’t, return to cutting into the hides of the wealthy, who are generating our prosperity at a fearful rate. Such genius brains!

“But is an economy which promotes minority wealth and privilege and requires the state to tax the beneficiaries to support those it excludes really the only alternative to the current order? An agenda based on the redistribution of wealth rather than the redistribution of opportunity can only ever deliver justice as compensation; mitigating the worst effects once the damage is done. It is morally unambitious and likely to fail in the long run because by taxing the beneficiaries more heavily, the wealth-generating capacity of an already underemployed economy is further compromised.”

Oh my! Such butter and shit on the tongue, lodged firmly in the City asshole! We have to (sob) redistribute opportunity! We need Blair, with all his evangelical fervor, that wondrous Uriah Heep persona, to intone things like this. Far better to be read by Texas redneck conservatives than the taffee Tartufferie of the “Left” in the Anglosphere state that seems destined to sink the most in the next year.

Juggling kleptocrats: the Bush years continue

I had lunch with a friend, yesterday, and I came up with a pretty good metaphor to describe the current financial crisis while talking about it with her. It is the dish stacking metaphor. At the root of this crisis is a shortfall in the amount of money that the average household can afford to pay on a house. That’s real simple. Stacked on top of that is the larger shortfalls of nested securities that depended on those bottom mortgages. The shape of the financial system is, from the plate stacking perspective, all wrong. Instead of smaller amounts of money depending on the larger amount at the bottom, the plates above the bottom plate get larger and larger, until you reach the great world of the derivatives plate.

The government has so far been trying to fix the problem from the top. But when a stack of plates starts to wobble, you can’t fix the problem from the top. The more you add to the top, the more the instability increases.

Which takes us to the latest and greatest news from our criminal oligarchy. In a coup d’etat move not unlike the patriot act, the Bush administration, prime architects of the disaster, are now proposing a bail out plan for the wealthy that, in its scope and audaciousness, dwarfs the tax cuts of 2001-2002.

I commented on this over at the Economist’s View. I’ll quote myself. Sorry.
When people say it is a solvency problem, what they really mean is that the effect of amplifying income inequality over the past thirty years and using all the resources of the government to stamp out "wage inflation", ie the just distribution of productivity gains to the producers, is that households are not increasing their incomes as they did in the pre-70s days. But policy makers are pretending like they are. The bailout plan still pretends that the bottom 80 percent of the population will buy and sell houses at prices that are greater than they can afford. Are the politicians still that stupid? The government can buy a 300 thousand dollar house in Phoenix and hold it all it wants to, the number of buyers who can really afford a 300 thousand dollar house simply aren't enough to make up a healthy market. It is that simple. If the government spent its 700 billion dollars giving every household in America a 20,000 a year raise, well, then they could afford those houses. Otherwise, no.

The housing bubble, the easy credit bubble, and stagnant wages form the Bermuda triangle of this economy, into which a trillion dollars is going to disappear. The United States of Denial strikes again.

ps - read Joe Nocera's column in the NYT. So funny, it will make the blood come out of your mouth. Now, onto a scintillating critique of the reactionary elements in Batman 4. Onward the Revolution!

Is a private ritual like a private language?

“And when you pray, you shall not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Truly I say to you, They have their reward.

But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

But when you pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.

Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.” – Matthew 6:5-7

I went into a bicycle shop the other day. I’d been delaying having my bike fixed, but I knew, from the hairraising sound that the brakes emitted every time I pressed them, that the pads were shot. I also knew that, ever penny wise and pound foolish, I’d waited too long to fix them. The clerk told me, at first, that they could change the pads without changing the cable, and then, when the guy in the back started fixing it, that it would require a cable change too. On top of that, it turned out I had a hole in the back tire, caused by the back brake pad.

The man who fixed the bike came out with it and put it up on a little rack. He talked to me while he fixed it. I watched him not watch his hands, which went here and there, testing the sprungness of the brake, adjusting the screws and the position. He looked at me or straight ahead. His hands were like marvelous, separate creatures, below the sea level of his apparent attention, although in fact his mind was really concentrated on the feelings in his fingertips, his sense of the pressure exerted by the screwdriver, the pull and resistance of the brake assembly. It was obvious that he not only did not need to see what he was doing, but that seeing would get in the way. I had ineffectually tried, myself, to adjust the brakes, peering through my reading glasses to see the whole assemblage, and of course I was awkward and put everything on wrong. I’ve seen my Dad and my brothers repair things in this hands first way too. It is an enviably elegant thing to do.

It is, supremely, a routine.

I mention this because Mauss, in his book on the ethnography of prayer, makes a valiant effort to distinguish rituals from routines. His ultimate purpose is to use prayer as a kind of discursive object in which the ritual and the belief converge. He is what he says about rituals (rites)

“It isn’t after the nature of acts and their real effects that it is possible to distinguish the two orders of fact. From this point of view, all that it is possible to say about rituals is that they cannot produce the results one attributes to them. According to this way of judging, one can’t distinguish rituals from erroneous practices. One knows, however, that an erroneous practice is not a ritual. Thus, it is not in considering the efficacity in itself, but the manner in which the efficacity is conceived that we can discover the specific difference. Thus, in the case of technique, the effect produced is supposed to arise entirely from the effective mechanical labor. And this besides has right on its side (a bon droit), for the effort of civilization has precisely consisted in reserving to industrial techniques and the science on which they repose that useful value that one attributed in the past to rituals and religious notions. On the contrary, in the case of a ritual practice, other causes completely are supposed to intervene, to which is wholly imputed the expected result. Between the movements that constitute the sacrifece of the construction dn the solidity of the house that it is supposed to insure, there is not even from the point of view of the sacrificer any mechanical link. The efficacity lent to the ritual has nothing in common with the efficacity proper to the acts which are materially accomplished. It is represented mentally as completely sui generis, for one consideres that it comes entirely from special forces that the ritual has the property of putting in play. Thus even if the effect actually produced would result in fact in executed movements, there would be a ritual if the believer attributed it to other causes. Thus the absorption of toxic substances produces physiologically a state of ecstacy, and yet it is a ritual for those who imput this state not to its true causes, but to special influences.”

If Mauss is right about this, and if he is right that prayer is a ritual, then there is something extremely puzzling about the famous saying in Matthew. Which I will get to in a further post.

CHANNEL SURFING THROUGH THE REVOLUTION

Over the last eight years, LI has developed a pretty fierce hatred for the Left. We break out in hives whenever we hear some grave person intone about the Left should do this or the Left should do that. As if the Left were anything but a miserable con game, one hundred fifty years of murder and disaster under its belt, led by young romantic young men who turn into old horrors as soon as they get a chance to mismanage an organization. The convergence of Mao and Milton Friedman in China has been a beautiful symbol of what the “left” is all about. That former Leftists loved the invasion of Iraq is not only not a surprise, but the secret face of the Left all along.

But as the “Left” exploded, I was hoping, romantic to the end, that something would take its place. In 2000, I even stupidly thought that thing would be the anti-corporation movement, which crystallized at the time around Ralph Nader. Nader, of course, had a more than honorable career in the seventies. Unfortunately, the only thing politician-like about Nader is his blind, gargantuan ego. The anti-corporation movement seemed to dissolve when it was needed most – after 9/11 – and now consists of a painfully unfunny clown act that comes out every four years and runs for president.

The run up to the current disaster was predictable since last summer. The “Left” of course saw, heard and said nothing – which is par for the course. We are now entering perhaps the most revolutionary period in my lifetime. It is rather hilarious that the “Left” will hop, skip and jump through this period without even the slightest flicker of recognition. Naturally, however, they will be like white on rice over the next superhero movie. The subtexts of Iron Man2! Does that Batman movie have a subversive countertext underneath its reactionary overtext? I’m just on the edge of my seat...

In the UK, where the “left” became the third way, the destruction of the latest and the greatest scheme to enrich the upper class – our thirty year old system of financial fictions – is probably going to wash away the Labour party. Is this good or bad? After all, the Labour party labored, mostly, to convince people that it was a behemoth Maggie Thatcher with a human face. My theory has long been that the takeover of old blue chip corporations by LBOs was the model for what happened to the “left” parties – they were cheap, they were exhausted, and they were beautifully positioned to fulfill a corporationist agenda by providing faux opposition and real support for the system of massive inequality, the hollowing out of democracy, and the use of pr warmongering as a sort of bread and circuses, that the fat cats love.

The U.S. has no left. Perhaps this will be an advantage. So far, there hasn’t been a peep about the insane policy being announced in headline after headline, as the Fed systematically destroys the ability of the government to help the producers – the bottom 85 percent. But I – romantically – believe that the doggies aren’t going to eat this dogfood much longer. The doggies will bite.

the topdown solution to the crisis is AN UTTER CATASTROPHE

I hear the roar of big machines
Two worlds and in between
Love lost, fire at will
Dum-dum bullets and shoot to kill, I hear
Dive, bombers, and
Empire down
Empire down


The economists, pundits and our elite have patted themselves on the back for the past year about “handling” the “credit” crisis. They have handled it by pouring money into the pockets of the top earners, who are, not coincidentally, the people who run the financial sector. Manufacturers in this country – GE, GM – have, for a long time, gotten in on the racket by manufacturing financial centers themselves.

Was there a better way?
How about: bottom up financing?

A clever commentator over at Mark Thoma’s Economist’s view named James Kroeger has been pounding on this idea for a while. He put it very succinctly before, once again, the Fed took another step into the quagmire. I have to quote him:

Let's go through this a step at a time... How would the Average American be hurt by a complete collapse of the financial sector of the economy? The answer is that he/she would be hurting only if aggregate demand were drop as a consequence of banks lending less money and businesses spending less money. Without intervention by Congress, businesses that are too heavily leveraged would go out of business and many people would lose their jobs. But if the federal government were to increase its spending enough (by taxing the rich and spending that money on infrastructure & human capital) aggregate demand could not only be maintained, we could also easily increase AD if that is what we wanted to do.

To maintain aggregate demand at the levels we desire, it might be desirable for Congress to create taxpayer-owned banks that would buy up the assests of failed private banks at fire-sale prices, fully capitalize them with public funds, and then provide whatever loanable funds might be desired by borrowers. If loan demand is inadequate to maintain aggregate spending at the desired level, then Congress can simply spend more money on public investment.

So what's the problem? What's the horror? The evil geniuses who created our private financial markets would suffer massive losses because they did not prepare themselves for excessive risk. They would lose Big Time, as they should. Within a month of two after such institutions fail, the government could be replacing them with publicly owned entities that have no reservations whatsoever about lending to would-be borrowers.

It would all be over within 6 months and very few people would be unemployed while competing firms buy up the assets of failed firms. As long as demand is strong, everyone would be working and pumping money into the economy at the same time that the few remaining players in the privately-owned financial sector are finding new ways to make a living while competing with The Taxpayer's Bank (one that is not interested in maximizing profits while taking on risks that everyone else must pay for, but only in serving the public interest) and which writes the rules that they must abide by.
(If a reminder is necessary: the Great Depression continued on as long as it did for only one reason: the Federal Government did not spend enough money to eliminate unemployment until World War II began and then unemployment dried up almost over night. Roosevelt's Congress did not authorize enough spending because too many members of the opposition and of the banking community warned that the consequences of 'inflating' the economy would be disastrous. Too bad they listened. Millions of people suffered terribly for no good reason.)

This is an awesome suggestion. It will be completely ignored by all parties and all people in power. But LI suggests that readers intrude this idea into forums where the economy is being discussed at present – q and a on the Washington Post or the NYT, comments on any popular political site, etc. At the moment, the top down, top benefits most model is the only model on display. It is late. That model is a failure. And it may well lead to the complete failure of a perfectly good economic system. The naughties have been an experiment in how-stupid-can-we-be. It looks like we will drain the betise to the dregs. But we don’t have to. We have a choice.

some will rob you with a six gun, some with a fountain pen

In the new Feudalism, we have to have a set of new euphemisms. So when a government agency simply abandons the law of the land – otherwise known as breaking the law – we have to find a gentle, doe eyed way of describing it. And who is better at the task than our faithful scribes and minions, the same people who transformed the Great Fly’s war of aggression in Iraq into a crusade for democracy? Who can put the human face on predator capitalism better than the NYT? Thus we get explanations like this one, about the use of taxpayer money to support private peculators:

“Until this week, it would have been unthinkable for the Federal Reserve to bail out an insurance company, and A.I.G.’s request for help from the Fed of just a few days ago was rebuffed.

But with the prospect of a giant bankruptcy looming — one with unpredictable consequences for the world financial system — the Fed abandoned precedent and agreed to let the money flow.”

Abandoned precedent. Let the money flow. Such beautiful terms! It makes for a whole new way of describing things. For instance, on one could say that on November 9, 1932, Clyde Barrow abandoned precedent in Lagrange, Texas, and let the money flow from the Carmen State Bank. Doesn’t that sound nice? Clyde prompted the money with the use of a pistol. We are more civilized now. Bernanke used a pen. We don’t use vulgar words of language.

Which reminds me of this Woody Guthrie song.

orderliness

Since last August, economic policy in the U.S. has advanced under the banner of orderliness. The Fed, the Treasury, and all of the Great Fly’s horses and all of the Great Fly’s men are making sure that the unwinding is orderly. What does this mean? Well, it means that the New Deal is inversed. The old New Deal was about spending money to employ the unemployed. The New New Deal is about transferring money to plutocrats. Now, yesterday we had one outcome – an easily foreseen outcome – of what an “orderly” unwinding means: bankruptcies of the banks, freezing up of credit for consumers, inflation on all fronts, a steady increase in unemployment (which is, as we all know, grossly undercounted) – and money, massive amounts of money, for the rich. As you can see, that outcome is much to be preferred to a disorderly unwinding. The latter would involve bankruptcies of banks, freezing up of credit for consumers, inflation on all fronts, a steady increase in unemployment – and no extra money for the rich! That would be terrible.

What amazes LI is how inefficient the new feudalism is. I have a small but, I think, moneysaving suggestion to make to our masters in D.C.: we can cut the time and distance money has to travel between being collected by the IRS and landing in the pockets of bankers by setting up an office that directly assigns revenues to the wealthy. Thus, for instance, the Republican head of Merril Lynch, John A. Thain, who apparently earned a truly pitiable sum (25 million dollars) for presiding over the ruin of that bank for ten months, ould simply be assigned all the revenue collected from, say, Kentucky. Because we are a fiery Republic, Dedicated to Liberty and Opportunity, we should not knight him. No, we should scorn to ennoble him. Although our population is a spineless, servile, bullying, infantile, and media lobotomized bunch of hicks, still, we are too proud to allow our masters to assume titles like Earl of Hampton. But we can call them things like Super Entrepreneur of Hampton. This will warm our country hearts, and he could be interviewed on tv, or, as we like to say, reality land, dispensing wisdom that we can all sway to in our huts.

It looked, at one point, like the Dems – leaning towards their communistic roots – might have even suggested that instead of an orderly unwinding, we try the disorderly variety, in which you actually shove the Federal money at the masses. Imagine! The disorder of that would make our news storytellers on tv wring their toupees and bouffants. They would be so sad! It would be sheer demagogy! And against the free market and everything! Luckily, that moment has well passed, and we can all get behind the orderly unwinding. Of course, the Dems may be communists, but luckily they aren’t so communistic as to suggest that maybe, the government, instead of loaning banks 30 billion dollars here and 100 billion dollars there at 2 percent interest so that they can loan the money back to the U.S. at 2.5 percent interest, should just loan to the population at large at 2 percent interest, because, as we can easily see, that would be disorderly. We must be orderly. And at the end of this happy, happy time, there might be some money to, well, I don’t know, build another war or something. We do so love a war!

through the implosion, tv set by tv set

LI is back. We come back minus one tooth (about which, more on another post) from a trip that consisted mostly of following my friend M. around Mexico City and playing circus with her daughter and protect the castle with her son – although protect the castle is a complicated game of which the rules change to the extent that it isn’t clear what the castle is, as J. decides which miniature bowling pin stands for the king or the queen, which pile of books, toys, and odds and ends makes up the battlements, and how to deal with the collateral damage that ensues when he dances around the room, jumps on the bed, yells yippee, and generally makes a ruckus when the silver ball I toss at the castle misses the king, the queen, and all nine knights. Let it not be said that we lacked for intellectual content, down there in DEF. Plus we read a lot of Proust and took notes, all for The Human Limit, which we so hope our few remaining readers have not totally forgotten. Oh, and in our own little person, we proved that the global war on terrorism is a hoax. Maybe that will be in another post too. Suffice it to say, we spent some time at the U.S. embassy to Mexico, being gaped at by various embassy employees.

And David Foster Wallace hung himself.

We came back through the implosion. We knew, even in D.E.F, that the implosion was coming last week, when we read in the NYT about Lehman’s flood of red ink. Although of course – and this is the beauty of a blog! – we have been writing off and on since the Fed first fatally sought to shore up, of all things, the equity markets back in August, that the implosion was coming closer, with tremendous strides, like some personified sin in Pigrim’s Progress. In the Mexico City airport, we picked up the Financial Times to get the score, so to speak, for the day’s gladiatorial contest. In Dallas, we watched CNN. CNN is like a video i.v. of pure gibberish. It is like mindmelding with an overflowing garbage can. The lies and factoids pouring out of the tv were rather astonishing. We especially liked it that – of all people – Alan Greenspan was reverently quoted for his opinion of the implosion. For in the CNN universe, the characters of the celebrities are unchanging archetypes, and Alan Greenspan is still the maestro, instead of the Ayn Rand's revenge on American capitalism.

There were also clips of Obama and McCain, and not one word about what this is. It isn’t a credit crisis. It isn’t a liquidity crisis. This is an inequality crisis. The massive increase in the inequality between the wealth of the working and middle class and the upper class is the sole perpetrator of today’s implosion, and of tomorrow’s implosion too. You can’t run a consumer economy on extended credit and frozen wages. You can’t trade the residual. You can’t make the financial sector, of all sectors, the engine of the economy – unless your economy is as small as Holland’s. As the government transfers appalling hundreds of billions to the plutocrats and assures the CNN viewing audience that it is for the good of all, the spectator must wonder if the servility of the general population, its inertia, its ignorance, its general incapacity to chew gum and walk, will allow this, too, to pass. So far, it does look like the hugest robbery in history will proceed without a hitch, and with no suspense, even. Why dress all in black and map out the sensors that guard the vault of Fort Knox when the treasury secretary gives you a key and your own gilded wheelbarrow?

the newest fade

Lenin claimed that the state would fade away in a society that achieved true communism. LI can’t say that we’ve achieved true communism, yet, but we are fading away – at least for a week or two. Fading to Mexico, through the storms we ride. So you will have to untie the intricate knots of the eighteenth century without me! My last posts, heavy with heaviness, like my Mozart posts, light with lightness, are the endpoints of the campaign. And I so wanted to get to external and internal voices, privacy, love, and the language of cats!

Well, you will just have to figure that out without me.

Lights out.

Weekend: the week in politics!

Of course, LI is getting tons of emails about our relative silence vis a vis the late breaking political developments. The convention. The crucial question of leadership and experience. The whole gender thing.

We are speaking, of course, of the PS conference at La Rochelle, and whether Ségolène Royal or the mayor of Paris, Bertrand Delanoë, take over the spot of first secretary of the party. Our heart is with Delanoë. We like the idea of confrontation, of getting in the face of the reactionaries in power. We dislike Royal’s idea that the PS has to extend peace feelers to the MoDem, of all feeble front organizations for a toothfairy solution to social problems. The dream of the Third Way should, by this time, have revealed itself clearly as the same old nightmare from which we are all trying to wake up. On the other hand, I like Royal as the face of the party. She did resurrect the corpse, which was shot by Jospin and his Blairing around ways. So, at the moment, I think Delanoë’s confrontational strategy will work better in an election year than as a 24/7 offyear theme. In fact, what I’d like to see is an agreement between the two – Delanoë agreeing to serve as party secretary, in return for supporting Royal for one more try at the presidential. As for the perpetual bickering of the party elite – well, it is an old story, and for reasons that escape me, the journalists always cover it as though it were some kind of disaster.

“A trois semaines de la date-limite pour le dépôt des motions [at the congress of Rheims], qui départageront les prétendants à la succession de François Hollande, l'heure était aux grandes manoeuvres pour Ségolène Royal, Bertrand Delanoë, Martine Aubry ou Pierre Moscovici. Objectif: constituer une majorité dans un parti balkanisé. Au sortir de l'université d'été, la situation n'est pas plus claire. Aucun des prétendants ne paraît pour l'instant en mesure de réunir plus du quart du parti lors du vote sur les motions.
A ce petit jeu, Ségolène Royal se sera montrée la plus discrète. La finaliste de l'élection présidentielle de 2007, qui mise tout sur son aura parmi les militants, s'est contentée d'une apparition le premier jour, marquée par un appel quasi-mystique à "l'amour" entre socialistes et une rapide réunion de ses partisans. Samedi et dimanche, elle a préféré à La Rochelle la fête du Parti démocrate italien.”


Then, of course, there is the most popular socialist, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, with his pion, Moscovi. The French love to express their preference for the Colbert type in polls – not the comedian, the treasurer – but they vote for Louis xiv types.

Okay, so that is the roundup. Amie will no doubt have to correct me if this is a misanalysis. Oh, and ... I hear that something is happening in the U.S.A. too. I haven’t been paying attention. Who are the candidates again?

the privilege of turn 3

I’ve already commented once on Ginzburg’s essay, Making it strange: the prehistory of a literary device. Ginzburg traces the connection between the Stoic practices recorded by Marcus Aurelius and, link by link, the formalist notion of “making strange”, that formula which was so important to Victor Shklovsky. Ginzburg does not mention Shaftesbury in his essay; yet his explanation of the Stoic method can easily be applied to Shaftesbury's Philosophical Regimen:

“Epictetus, the philosopher-slave whose ideas profoundly influenced Marcus Aurelius, maintained that this striking out or rearsure of imaginary representations was a necessary step in the quest for an exact perception of things. This is how Marcus Aurelius describes the successive stages:

“Wipe away the impress of imagination. Stay the impulse that is drawing you like a puppet. Define the time which is present. Recognize what is happening to yourself or another. Divide and separate the event into its causal and material aspects. Dwell in thought upon your last hour.”

Each of these injunctions required the adoption of a specific moral technique aimed at acquiring mastery over the passions...”

Shaftesbury’s method and madness converge on an operating table in which the writer is both surgeon and patient. One notices that the direction of the Stoic move – of wiping away impressions – is the opposite of the direction of the Lockean idea – which builds outwards from a presumed tabula rasa. For Shaftesbury, the Lockean notion that in our minds we build the world anew (an implication that finds its political expression in Tom Paine) can’t possibly be true. The world is the more certain fact, and its impingement upon the mind comes in the form of impressions that are distorting – rather than the sole hermeneutical resource with which we make our uncertain way through the world. In the PR, Shaftesbury’s exercises literally apply Marcus Aurelius’s suggestions, and reference the idea of viewing things “as from a height.” The aftershocks of the clash between Locke's experience (which, for Shaftesbury, is a false kind of innocence) and the Stoic dissection of experience can be felt in the question marks that swarm all over Shaftesbury’s text. They seem like so many jabs into the simulacra of the philosopher patient, the wax doll upon which he intends to operate in order to effect a ritual cleansing. Here’s a passage from the notes on “Deity”. It comes just after a passage comparing the Deists and the Epicureans – “Atoms and void. A plain negative to the Deity, fair and honest. To Deism, still no pretence. So the sceptic....

“From whence then this other pretence? Who are these Deists? How assume the name? By what title or pretence? The world, the world? say what? how? A modified lump? matter? motion? – What is all this? Substance what? Who knows? why these evasions? subterfuges with words? definitions of things never to be defined? structures or no foundations? Come to what is plain. Be plain. For the idea itself is plain; the question plain; and such as everyone has invariably some answer to which it is decisive. Mind? or not mind? If mind, a providence, the idea perfect: a God. If not mind, what in the place? For whatever it be, it cannot without absurdity be called God or Deity; nor the opinion without absurdity be called Deism.” (38-39)

While we recognize both Marcus Aurelius's exercise and the grammatical echoes of the great Carolinean preachers - Donne, Taylor - the effect of this continually interrupted movement, this play of thought that tears at itself, over pages, is of a sort of self-cutting. One can’t help but wonder whether the voices at play, here, don’t include Locke's voice from the nursery. A voice which we know from Locke's work on education, which was confessedly based on his experience teaching the Shaftesbury children. This is Locke:

“Familiarity of discourse, if it can become a father to his son, may much more be condescended to by a tutor to his pupil. All their time together should not be spent in reading of lectures, and magisterially dictating to him what he is to observe and follow. Hearing him in his turn, and using him to reason about what is propos’d, will make the rules go down the easier and sink the deeper, and will give him a liking to study and instruction: And he will then begin to value knowledge, when he sees that it enables him to discourse, and he finds the pleasure and credit of bearing a part in the conversation, and of having his reasons sometimes approv’d and hearken’d to; particularly in morality, prudence, and breeding, cases should be put to him, and his judgment ask’d. This opens the understanding better than maxims, how well soever explain’d, and settles the rules better in the memory for practice. This way lets things into the mind which stick there, and retain their evidence with them; whereas words at best are faint representations, being not so much as the true shadows of things, and are much sooner forgotten. He will better comprehend the foundations and measures of decency and justice, and have livelier, and more lasting impressions of what he ought to do, by giving his opinion on cases propos’d, and reasoning with his tutor on fit instances, than by giving a silent, negligent, sleepy audience to his tutor’s lectures; and much more than by captious logical disputes, or set declamations of his own, upon any question. The one sets the thoughts upon wit and false colours, and not upon truth; the other teaches fallacy, wrangling, and opiniatry; and they are both of them things that spoil the judgment, and put a man out of the way of right and fair reasoning; and therefore carefully to be avoided by one who would improve himself, and be acceptable to others.”

Wit and false colours. Which, of course, are just what is defended in Shaftesbury's Sensus Communis. One might wonder how one gets from the severities of the stoic operating table to the epigrams of the drawing room - this has puzzled Shaftesbury's commentators, at least. The key is to follow not the thread of that truth which is discovered by a process of corresponding idea to object, according to the narrow procedures of proof, but to take a broader, more social sense of proof into account. Wit is a trial. A trial is a different thing than the amassing of proofs, which is the sort of activity done by the police or prosecutor before a trial. Trials are about guilt and innocence, which is the context in which truth gains its social footing. Thus, trials are dramas about character and circumstances. Trials are part of the world as theater. And the world is a place of infinite and not so converging impressions. Here is the gap, the little peephole, into souls, and for souls, truth alone is not enough. Truth won't give us seriousness. Which is why we need other methods more appropriate to our theatrical world. Which is why we need wit. The test of opinion is in the struggle between the serious and the absurd. This is a point to which Shaftesbury returns time and again in defending wit as the kind of thing that is consistent with common sense: ridicule drives an opinion to the point at which it becomes ridiculous, or extravagant. It drives it outside the bounds of common sense. It makes it a scapegoat. It expels it.

Yet Shaftesbury is careful not to confuse absurdity with falsity. An opinion doesn’t have to be untrue to be absurd. In the infinitesimal separation, there lodges an infinite meaning, because it presents another dimension of reason, one in which the terms concern the serious and the absurd. It is in that dimension that LI sees the glimmer of what Durkheim called the sacred. The spirits at work in the festival of mockery are the spirits of the sacred and the profane, and the shock of mocking opinion, especially one’s own, is derived from the sense of profanation, of de-consecration.

The trial of opinion by wit is parallel to the trial of the mind by the body, as this is laid out in the Philosophical Regimen. “Nature has joined thee to such a body, such as it is. The supreme mind would have it that this should be the trial and exercis of inferior minds. It has given thee thine; not just at hand, or as when they say into one’s mouth; not just in the way so as to be stumbled on by good luck; not so easily either, but so as thou mayst reach it; so as within thy power, within command. See! Here are the incumbrances. This is the condition, the bargain, terms. Is the prize worth contending for? or what will become of me if I do not contend? How if the stream carries me down? how if wholly plunged in this gulf? What will be my condition then? what, when given up to body, when all body, and not a motion, not a thought, not one generous consideration or sentiment besides?” That gulf, as Shaftesbury points out at the beginning of the section on the body, is one composed of shit. The body is an excrement in potentia

“And as from the parts of the body, so also abstract it from the whole body itself, an excrement in seed, already half being, half putrefaction, half corruption. Thus be persuaded of this: that I (the real I) am not a certain figure, nor mass, nor hair, nor nails, nor flesh, nor limbs, nor body; but mind, thought, intellect, reason; what remains but that I should say to this body and all the pompous funeral, nuptial, festival (or whatever other) rites attending it, “This is body. These are the body only. The body gives life to them, exalts them, gives them their vigour, force, power and very being.”

The trial of the mind proposed here will follow a body’s logic, which is the logic of juxtapositions. Throughout the Regimen, the thought of the simultaneous and the all – that gaze down from the height – operates to create a world wide absurdity, a feeling of disgust, of a crowd of potential excrement increasing at every moment:

“Consider the number of animals that live and draw their breath, and to whom belongs that which we call life, for which we are so much concerned; beasts, insects, the swarm of mankind sticking to this earth, the number of males and females in copulation, the number of females in delivery, and the number of both sexes in this one and the same instant expiring and at their last gasp’ the shrieks, cries, voices of pleasure, shoutings, groans nd the mixed noise of all of these together. Think of the number of those tht died before thou wert or since; how many of those that came into the world at the same time and since; and of those now alive, what alteration. Consider the faces of those of thye acquaintance as thou sawest them some years since; how changed since then! how macerated and decayed! All is corruption and rottenness; nothing at a stay, but continued changes; and changes renew the face of the world.” (257)

And as always, Shaftesbury’s move is to put these notions in a scene, sketched rapidly.

Life is as those that live it. What are those? What are we? Nos numerus sumus et fruges consumere nati. Tolerable carrion; fit to be let live. Honest poor rascals not so bad as when they say “scarce worth the hanging.” Life-worthy persons, if a bare liveable life. But say, what are we? What do we make of ourselves? How esteem ourselves? Warm flesh, with feelings, aches, and appetites. The puppet – play of fancies. O the solemn, the grave, the ponderous business. – Complex ideas, dreams, hobby-horses, houses of cards, steeples and cupolas. – The serious play of life. – Shows, spectacles, rites, formalities, processions; children playing at bugbears, frighting one another through masks. The heard, priests, cryer. The trump of fame; the squeaking trumpet and cat-call; the gowns! habits! robes! How underneath? How in the nightcaps, between the curtains and sleeps? How anon in the family with wife, servants, children, o where even none of these must see? Private pleasures, other privacies? the closet and bed-chamber, parlours, dining-rooms, dressing-rooms, and other rooms. In sickness, the lazy hours, in wines, in lecher? taking in, letting out- O the august assembly; each of you, such as you are apart!” (258-259)

The wit of Sensus Communis and the reductions and division of the Philosophical Regimen are attempts not only to find a place for profanation, but – in as much as absurdity is a proxy for the profane – to come back to the serious as a form of the sacred. LI would love, at this point, to refer to Marcel Mauss’ book on Prayer – but we have no more time for this.

privilege of turn 2

Second Part

Shaftesbury’s Sensus Communis essay is, as he puts it, an earnest attempt to defend raillery. This is a very odd way to begin an essay on common sense, which is the kind of phrase that Shaftesbury’s tutor Locke was getting at with his notion that we receive our ideas from experience:

“But perhaps you may still be in the same humour of not believing me in earnest. You may continue to tell me, I affect to be paradoxical, in commending a Conversation as advantageous to Reason, which ended in such a total Uncertainty of what Reason had seemingly so well established.”

From the very beginning, then, Shaftesbury is presenting an explicit break between form and content. The form of the essay is, as Shaftesbury would know from Montaigne, the place of opinion, doxis, and is not a treatise. It deals with becoming – the characteristicks of men – rather than being – the universal forms. It is Shaftesbury’s piece of fun to defend mockery – his object – with a piece of reasoning. And that he labels this an essay on common sense calls attention to the difference between common sense and rationality. Shaftesbury is explicit enough about the nature of wit. It is paradoxical. It is extravagant. Moreover, it seems to affect a certain disconnect between the speaker and the opinion the speaker gives. In fact, at first glance, if we take common sense to be a secondary kind of rationality, it would seem that the freedom of wit and humor is a freedom from common sense in as much as common sense assigns beliefs to people, so that each self possesses a belief. On the other hand, it is a form of the commons, of shared possession. And there are many forms the commons takes – it isn’t all pasturing the village’s sheep. It is also the life of the common, in fairs, everyday talk, rituals. If we extend this sense of the common to common sense, then we are less shocked that wit, that thief who unlocks the chain binding a man to his opinion, should be part of the commons. On the other hand, as we know from Don Quixote, the impulse to unlock chains and free prisoners, while a noble one, can have dubious results.

Shaftesbury, puts the essay in terms of an argument with an unnamed friend who doesn’t see wit’s right to operate in the commons. Like the puritans casting out the punch and judy shows and the bear baitings, this friend can’t see the point of mockery, and can see, very well, the vice of it.

“I HAVE been considering (my Friend!) what your Fancy was, to express such a surprize as you did the other day, when I happen’d to speak to you in commendation of Raillery. Was it possible you shou’d suppose me so grave a Man, as to dislike all Conversation of[60] this kind? Or were you afraid I shou’d not stand the trial, if you put me to it, by making the experiment in my own Case?

I must confess, you had reason enough for your Caution; if you cou’d imagine me at the bottom so true a Zealot, as not to bear the least Raillery on my own Opinions. ’Tis the Case, I know, with many. Whatever they think grave or solemn, they suppose must never be treated out of a grave and solemn way: Tho what Another thinks so, they can be contented to treat otherwise; and are forward to try the Edge of Ridicule against any Opinions besides their own.

The Question is, Whether this be fair or no? and, Whether it be not just and reasonable, to make as free with our own Opinions, as with those of other People?”

I want to linger on this trial of opinion by wit. Which will be the subject of my next post.

the privilege of turn 1 (revised)

Anthony, the third Earl of Shaftesbury (1670-1713) was born into a title that had been given to his grandfather, the first earl, who was the giant of the family. The First Earl was one of the grandees who designed the proto-whig culture that opposed James II, and brought about his downfall. He was the patron of John Locke, whom he first employed as a physician, then encouraged as a patron, used as a pamphleteer, made the entremetteur for his son, Anthony, the second earl (who married the woman Locke found for him) and finally employed to tutor his grandchildren. By chance (although it is a chance that one is not surprised at in class bound Britain) two of the English philosophers, Shaftesbury and Mill, could claim to be entirely educated by the reigning English philosopher that preceded them – respectively, Locke and Bentham.

The third earl Shaftesbury dutifully followed in his grandfather’s footsteps – his father seems to have been an entirely ineffectual man – in promoting the Whig policy, first under William, then under Anne. On becoming the head of the house after his father’s death, he took over the running of the family estate, too. All of these burdens destroyed his health. He begins a typical letter to the manager of his estate, John Wheelock, in November 1703, like this:

“I am sorry to hear all things are so low and tenants so disheartened. The greater must be my frugality and care to repair the great wounds I have made in my estate. I shall keep in my compass of ₤ 200 for the year that I stay here [in Holland], and if this does not do it shall be yet less, and the time longer, for I will never return to be as I was of late richly poor; that is to say, to live with the part of a rich man, a family and house such as I have, and yet in debt and unable to do any charity or bestow money in any degree.” In another letter that same year, he writes:

“I should have been glad to have lived in the way that is called hospitable in my country, but experience has but too well shown me that I cannot do it. Nor will I ever live again as I have done and spend to the full of my estate in house and a table. I must have werhewithal to do good out of my estate, as well as feed a family, maintain a set of idle servants entailed upon me, and a great mass of building yet more expensive. If my estate cannot, besides my house and rank, yield me five or six hundred pounds a year to do good with (as that rank requires), my house and rank may both go together, come what will of them, or let the world say what they will, they shall both [be] to ruin for me...”

In the next decade, fighting a mysterious sickness and bouts of ‘melancholia”, Shaftesbury, like many indebted British nobles, economized by remaining for long seasons on the Continent. In his last journey to Italy in 1711, when he was deathly ill with shortness of breath – he’d been told, or believed at least, that the coal fires of London were to cause for his asthma, and was going to stay in Naples to breath the air there, and because it was cheap – he writes to Wheelock:


“As good a husband as I have been (and my wife surely the best housewife as well as wife, nurse and friend that ever was known in her whole sex), I have not been able to keep with the expense proposed, but have expended at least a hundred pund a month by Bryan’s reckoning, I fear I shall be little able to diminish it. But it will not be, I trust in God (and can surely presume), much beyond this present compass. If I live my family and paternal estate will not (I hope) be prejudiced by this remittance out of it for my subsistence...”

It was while in Naples that he completed the book that made him famous: Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times.

LI has been reading one essay from that mass: ‘Sensus Communis: An Essay on the Freedom of wit and humor’. Shaftesbury’s reputation rather waned in the twentieth century, until Gadamer mentioned this essay in Truth and Method, since, of course, Gadamer’s book is concerned, in part, with the analysis of common sense. Both Gadamer and Habermas instigated an interest in the formation of the public sphere in the Enlightenment that has produced ever swelling torrent of books and articles, and Shaftesbury was revived, to an extent, as a spokesperson for sociability.

Myself, I’ve been struck by the discrepancy between this secondary literature and Shaftesbury’s writings. The secondary literature might persuade the reader to regard Shaftesbury as a sort of philosophical etiquette writer, decorous, a bore. But reading Sensus Communis and, especially, Shaftesbury’s notebook - which he entitled Askemata, or exercises, but which was published as the Philosophical Regimen – I’ve been struck, instead, by Shaftesbury’s near madness. His Philosophical Regimen, which has sunk into total obscurity, is a document that is as strange in its way as Christopher Smart’s Jubilate Agno. John Stuart Mill fled to the Lake Poets for relief from his early teaching. Shaftesbury fled to Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus, and yet one can still hear the voice of his tutor in the dense cloud of question marks and comments.

Let me end this with a quote from one of the letters about said tutor. This is to one of Shaftesbury’s admirers, Michael Ainsworth, June 3, 1709:


It was Mr. Locke that struck the home blow: for Mr Hobbes character and base slavish principles in government took off the poison of his philosophy. ‘Twas Mr. Locke that struck at all fundamentals, threw all order aand virtue out of the world, and made the very ideas of these (which are the same as those of God) unnatural, and without foundation in our minds. Innate is a word he poorly plays upon; the right word, though less used, is connatural. For what has birth of progress of the foetus out of the womb to do in this case? The question is not about the time the ideas entered, or the moment that one body came out of the other, but whether the constitution of man be such that, being adult and grown up, at such or such a time, sooner of later (no matter when), the idea and sense of order, administration, and a God, will not infallibly, inevitably, necessarily spring up in him.

Then comes the credulous Mr. Locke, with his Indian, barbarian stories of wild nations, that have no such idea (travellers, learned authors! and men of truth! and great philosophers! have informed him), not considering that is but a negative upon a hearsay, and so circumstantiated that the faith of the Indian danger may be as well questioned as the veracity or judgment of the relater; who cannot be supposed to know sufficiently the mysteries and secrets of those barbarians: whose language they but imperfectly know; to whom we good Christians have by our little mercy given sufficient reason to conceal many secrets from us, as we know particularly in respect of simples and vegetables, of which, though, we got the Peruvian bark, and some other noble remedies, yet it is certain taht through the cruelty of the Spaniards, as they have owned themselves, many secrets in medicinal affairs have been suppressed.”

Congratulations, IT, on post 1000

IT has just logged her 1000th post. Alas, although I have thrown my typical Yankee fascist careerist advice at her – that she should be a regular writer for the Guardian, as she has a popular tone, leftist theory coming out of her fingernails, and a knack for hot button femme kultcha issues - does she listen to me? Does anybody? I think she is afraid of waking up one morning after a night of strange dreams to find that she’s been transformed into Polly Toynbee – or worse, Julia Burchill.

She’s been on a roll with her series about what women talk about in the movies, which has somehow come to center on Sex and the City. I’m not sure how the Bechdel Test, as she calls it, deals with women playing men, vide Cate Blanchett, playing Bob Dylan. h I’d urge extending the topic to misogyny in movies, partly because some kindly soul put up half of the short film by Jean Eustache, Une sale histoire, which is a story of a man who becomes obsessed with staring through a hole bored in the wall between the men’s and women’s toilet in a cafe. He tells the story to three women, one of them the amazing Françoise Lebrun, who played Veronika in La Maman et la putaine. In “A dirty Story”, this is the narrator’s explanation for the end of his brief episode of voyeurism. “I stopped because I had the impression, in the end, that everything could only be seen in the perspective of that hole.” Eustache was appalled, I think, by the way in which danger had dropped out of sex - in this he was like Mailer, who viewed the pill as another zombie move by Dow chemical to replace our vital fluids with some liquid we had to pay rent on. Eustache was appalled by the sheer sloppiness of the post May 68 left. He despaired that what had been born was nothing more than a culture of excuses for sloth, promiscuity, and the shutting down of empathy - in particular, the latter. Empathy was, after all, what held the left together for a century - an empathy between the intellectual and the worker, between the workers themselves, between the people and the party. Of course, this was a history of empathy abused, and we all know how it worked out. But the reaction to the crackup - what Eustache saw as a generation that used leftleaning themes as a sort of tinsel thrown over a bloated egotism that could as easily tip, third way-ishly, into the most brutal capitalism - killed him.

Recently, in Le Monde, the book blogger, Pierre Assouline, wrote a post (that it is impossible to imagine being printed by a major paper in the Anglosphere) which grew nostalgia for that era of diffuse energies that Eustache despised. It was an obituary for Tony Duvert, a novelist of the sixties and seventies, friend of Roland Barthes, and a pedophile. Or rather, his novels exalted the love of pre-adolescent boys, and combined that theme with a familiar gay misogyny (the kind of denigration of women that was apparently part of Foucault’s conversational repertoire, at least according to James Miller, his biographer). This, I should say, I am taking on faith from Assouline, having never read Duvert. Assouline surveys the progressive isolation of Duvert, who in the end was, apparently, without a publishing house:

Sa liberté de ton, louée dans les années de la libération sexuelle, serait intolérable. Les ligues hurleraient aussitôt à l’apologie de la pédophilie et obtiendraient leur interdiction à la vente. Il défendait un principe, le droit des adolescents à disposer de leur libre sexualité, qui serait inaudible aujourd’hui. D’autant qu’il voulait retirer les enfants aux mères et, d’une manière générale, aux femmes ; il leur contestait un droit exclusif sur les enfants. “La période d’innocence qui s’offrait aux artistes dans les années 70 est révolue : on ne peut plus parler librement de ces choses en ce moment” disait récemment François Nourissier qui l’admirait. Il y a trente ans, on pouvait le lire comme un moraliste, chose devenue impensable de nos jours où il aurait été dénoncé comme immoraliste s’il lui avait pris de s’exprimer.

...

I’m hoping, now that there are two of Jean Eustache’s films up on YouTube, that someone will upload his Le Cochon – which, contrary to what one may expect, is – so I have read – appreciative and lyrical of the art of slaughtering a hog. This sounds excellent to me. I think the reason that I have seen only one Hanecke film is that the one I saw is about a boy who is inspired to kill a girl after watching a video of a hog being killed – using a stun gun. We are apparently supposed to look upon this with horror. I found that so utterly meretricious that I have been reluctant to look at a Hanecke film since. I certainly don’t look on killing a pig with horror – I mean, it isn’t as if I think pork was magically transported to my favorite bbq place from fairy land. Similarly, I never felt any repulsion to the scene in Roger and Me when some down on her luck woman raising rabbits for sale kills one and skins it.

I am repulsed, on the contrary, that there is such tender feeling about the bloody everyday facts of life. I can’t help but think that our tenderness about these things is in direct proportion to the spread of factory farming. The more tenderhearted the movie audience is about elementary butchery, the more leeway agribusiness has to raise and slaughter animals any way they like to. Back when Eustache was filming a good, healthy hog butchery, in the sixties, a hog was raised right, instead of as they are raised today, in the ghastly hog concentration camps.

Hmm, I’ve gotten a little off topic...

all about foodviews

LI reader's might be interested in my review of two food books here. Hmm, the title of the review is a little more scary than what's inside - it is all about foodviews!

I have high hopes for this review. If it catches the eye of some soul on the board of education, maybe it will suggest that the U.S., or at least Austin, should imitate the French and institute a semaine du goût. The American descent towards obesity and diabetes, which stems from our agribusinesses and inequalities, cannot be overturned by teaching children to look at taste before quantity or energy (sugar), but it can't hurt.

Cosi 3

It smells like girl
It smells like girl

LI suspects that, by the very nature of my research into the roots of happiness, I sometimes leave the impression that it was all a mistake. That the happiness culture was a terrible thing.

That doesn’t actually reflect my opinion. My liberalism amounts to this: avoiding totalizing viewpoints. From one point of view, the mutual bond between the nascent happiness culture and the nascent market culture was a disaster from the beginning. From another point of view, it was progress. One and the same observer could move between those two points of view, and often did, in the eighteenth century. Of course, I’m not pretending, either, that those were the only two points of view on what was happening, simply two conflicting assessments. What is striking, however, is that gradually, the ability to pose questions about what happiness is, and about the passional norms which supposedly underlie individual lives and collectivities, were increasingly blocked by the assumption that one has to begin with the self evident – even though, as we can see again and again in the 19th and 20th centuries, attempts to systemize the passions, to impress a vocabulary upon them that reflects their “universal” nature, continually produces inconsistencies. This region of social and personal life proves very hard to organize.

In Cosi fan tutte, we have an example of a fairy tale like failure to organize the passions on a traditional basis, followed by an ending that makes the astonishing proposal that this is all right. Reason tells us that we are not the dupes of passion, unless we hold to an unreal notion of passion. Now, this is what I think Tallyrand meant by the sweetness of life. It is an exploration, on the aesthetic plane, of Hume’s extraordinary and revolutionary phrase that reason should be the slave of the passions.

But first: some material context, from the trade in sex.

Report by Pidansat de Mairobert, published in the Espion anglais, 1784, concerning the maison de madame Gourdan, the most famous brothel in Paris:

“Pass now to the piscine. This is the bath where one introduces the girls that are recruited ceaselessly for Mme Gourdan, in the provinces, the country side and among the people of Paris. Before producing some like subject for her amateur, who would recoil in horror if he saw her coming out of her village or shack, we clean her up in this place (on le decrasse en ce lieu), we soften the skin, whiten it, perfume it, in a word, one curries a cinderella as one would prepare a superb horse.

They opened next an armoir, where there were a number of essences, liquids and waters for the usage of ladies.
They pointed out “l’eau de pucelle”.”

Mme Gourdan, like the most advanced pinmaker, understood something of the power of the division of labor, and she understood how to leverage her position in the sex market. It was a market that was pushed by two factors: on the one hand, the quantity of the labor supply was in direct proportion to the violence to which girls were customarily subject in their homes and workplaces; on the other hand, the clientele were specialists in the special – they were always leaping to new fetishistic niches.

So, the supply: these dirty recruits were recruited by a floating group of watchers. According to Eugene DeFrance, from whose biography of the La Maison de Madame Gourdon I take these notes, here is a typical scouting report from Mlle Caroline, a dancer with the Theatre des Italiens and one of Madame Gourdon’s sources:

“If you wish, my dear maman, on my street I have a pretty little bourgoise, 14 years old, who stays with a step mother who beats her twenty times a day. I will bring her to you; she has strongly urged me. I could easily have her received by Vaugien; the little one will gladly give herself to his fantasies, I’ve already told him about it. She’ll agree to anything on the condition that she leaves her wicked step mother. Please write me back as soon as possible, dear maman, etc.” (103)

The Vaugien in question is a vice cop.

Then, on the other hand, there was advertising and marketing. Apparently if you were a wealthy enough man in Paris, you would receive solicitations and advertisements for girl just as, today, you receive spam email offering you zero percent home loans. Like a butcher knows the choicest cuts, Goudon was an expert in the charcuterie of girl. The English Spy interviewed a Madame Sapho, who recounted her story: a peasant girl from the environs of Paris who Goudon kindly helped elope from her guardians, and stashed with an associate. The associate wrote, “what a Peru you’ve found in this child! ... she has a diabolical clitoris and she will be better for women then man. Our most illustrious tribades ought to pay for our latest acquisition in Gold!”

Goudon in fact had a client – a woman who was a member of a club of lesbians – who she hurried to with the news, and Madame Sapho was on her way up in the world.

In fact, Goudon was more than a simple bawd. She was a connector. A doctor’s wife, in debt, wants to sell her charms? Goudon would send a letter to one of the amateurs who she knew. She’d arrange a meeting. Sometimes, she’d spot a likely girl and arrange, under a false pretext, a meeting that would result in a rape.

All of this is happening under the nose of the opera, so to speak.

More about this at LCC.

A factory for making universals in the bowels of the folk consciousness

In Brown’s book on Cosi fan Tutte, which is a treasure trove of quotations, there is a passage from Jonathan Miller [who LI once shared a drink with, ho ho] explaining how he envisions the opera, and particularly the role of Don Alfonso. It is Alfonso who begins the action with a bet: he bets Ferrando and Guglielmo, two soldiers, cento zecchini, that he can prove their fiances can be seduced in a day. It is simply a matter of rearranging the tableau – by a simple ploy, he has the two announce they are going away, then has them disguise themselves and has each soldier woo the other’s fiance. A recto, we have Despina, the maid who tries to convince Fiordiligi and Dorabella that all men are essentially fickle, especially soldiers. Miller views all of this in the light of Don Alfonso’s fundamental motive:

“I have always seen him as a genuine eighteenth-century philosopher, a mixture of Diderot and Voltaire, and this means that the opera then becomes an experiment with human nature. In the first scene, to show him as a philosopher and not a joker, I had him appear at a table covered with books and classical references – the drawings of Sir William Hamilton’s Neapolitan Collections, some of Galvani’s early experiments on animal electricity, and thee might be a mesmeric tub in his room. He is interested in all these scientific and intellectual developments of the Enlightenment. The view that ultimately all human beings are the same because all individuals partake in the nature of Man is an eighteenth century idea. It follows that if there is any escape from a basic human nature it is achieved only by acknowledging those parts of oneself that cannot be altered.”

Diderot and Voltaire would not have recognized that the choice was between being either a philosopher or a joker – but this aside – and I bracket it now only to make a promise that I will come back to it later, because it is of the utmost importance to see how Mozart deals with such assumptions about the codes of seriousness - there is a lot of sense in Miller’s notion. One can’t help noticing that this is an opera that deals with another world of seduction than Don Juan’s. Don Juan’s was limited by hell on one side and marriage on the other. He traverses that world as an adventurer, believing in neither estate – and yet, by his behavior, by the life defining importance he grants these limits even as he opposes them, showing them a kind of respect. The libertine of the 17th century was taking a bet him or herself – Pascal’s bet – but the notion that hellfire might wait at the end of it was not something one could easily put off when the whole weight of the order in which one had been raised depended on that assumption. Which, in turn, was nested in a system of assumptions about spirits, nature, and human beings.

There’s no question of hell in Cosi fan Tutte, although about spirits ...

boy's world

Roberto Calasso has an amazing eye for the damning quotation. He is, after all, an admirer of Karl Kraus. In The Ruin of Kasch, he devotes a chapter to the ‘anti-romantic child”, Bentham. I read that chapter yesterday, and immediately recognized that it was about the U.S., circa 2000-2008.

Here are some Bentham quotes, taken from Halevy’s book about the Utilitarians;

“Directly or indirectly, well being, in one shape or another, or in several shapes, or all shapes taken together, is the subject of every thought, and the object of every action, on the part of every known Being who is, at the same time, a sensitive and thinking being.”

“Money is the instrument of measuring the quantity of pain or pleasure. Those who ar not satisfied with the accuracy of this instrument must find some other.”

“The only common measure the nature of things affords is money.”

These statements have a familiar ring to the American ear. Surely we just heard them. Wasn’t somebody on the radio, on the news, in the office, at a restaurant just saying that? The notion that money is the measure of all things has long been common to libertarians and economists. Markets in everything is the recent title of a book particularly recommended on the economic blog circuit.

But it isn’t the debasement of this kind of thinking that interests me, or even its impossibility – Market is a term that just aches to be taken apart, since it has many meanings and is used in a wholly senseless way to cover the whole of the life of exchange. We actually live in an economy with huge market gaps, and the title market is given as an honorific to aggregate activities, such as looking for a job, that really don’t correspond to being in a market at all. The job market and the banana market are much, much different things.

But let us leave that aside. As I say, it isn’t the debasing and painfully stupid reduction of pleasure and pain to money so much as the cultural effect of the moneyist attitude which interests me. Calasso juxtaposes these phrases of Bentham with this marvelous paragraph:

“John Stuart Mill – the first guinea pig to receive a strictly Benthamite education, one based entirely on the criterion of usefulness – did not react with sumptuous delirium, as Judge Schreber would in an analogous situation. On the contrary, he managed to write a magnanimous essay on Bentham. A genuine respect and lucidity guide Mill’s words, which involuntarily reveal more than what they say on the surface. First, he offers us the most fitting definition of the Master, presenting him as “the great subversive” and, in particular, as the “chief subversive thinker of an age which has lost all that they could subvert.” Bentham was the first living tabula rasa, a stolid and insolent child who could nave no doubts because he had no experience – and would never acquire any. “He had niether an internal experience, nor external; the quiet, even tenor of his life, and his healthiness of mind, conspired to exclude him from both. He never knew prosperity and adversity, passion nor satiety. He never had even the experience which sickness gives; he lived from childhood to the age of eighty-five in boyish health. He knew no dejection, no heaviness of heart. He never felt life a sore and a weary burthen. He was a boy to the last. Self-consciousness that daemon of the men of genius of our time, from Wordsworth to Byron, from Goethe to Chateaubriand, and to whcih this age owes so much of both its cheerful and its mournful wisdom, never was awakened in him. How much of human nature slumbered in him he knew not, neither can we know. He had never beenb made alive to the unseen influences which were acting on himself, nor consequently on his fellow creatures.”

Oh the age of boys. We are living in the full tide of it, for the Great Moderation, as the economists love to call it, which has become the Great Corruption under the ever vigilant eye of the Great Fly, has put the boys as firmly on our back as the Old Man of the Sea was on Sinbad’s. Anybody who is alive to these Benthamite strains will recognize that the same boys-will-be-boys atmosphere that heralded the runup to the war in Iraq (a war prefigured in the sales for Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, Rainbow Six, Endwar, Ghostrecon, and all the other flotsam and jetsam of the boy unconscious) became the blood and ouns of the Bush boom. What James Galbraith calls the Predator state requires a mentality so stripped of any other measure than money and the immediate lulls of wellbeing that it can’t even recognize experience anymore. How to do this? One has to look at the whole system – the schooling, the media, the office atmosphere, the suburbs. One has to look at it the way one looks at processed meat – in these slaughter houses they cut away the imagination, all unnecessary emotional registers, and most of all, the very idea of the negative capacity – which is, like, so gross and negative! To catch the end result of this shallowness, one has to read, say, the Freakonomics blog over a long period of time. Or attend, listen, to the yearning burning love for Bush himself – remembering that the secret of the action movie is not the movie itself, but the action figures one sells concurrently. Bush is our most perfect national doll. He is a perfect doll for boys, and the boys are sore disappointed in him. Cause, as we know, America is Boy’s Life writ large.

And where's my nobel prize???

Limited Inc – you might think our little suggestions fall dead from our pages. From my mouth to God’s deaf ear, as they say. But notice this, from our March 20, 2008 post:

“What the Government should do is place all securities under the sweeping powers of the same kind of agency that regulates drugs. And, just as drugs are tested for their real effects and approved with regulatory strings, securities too should be subject to testing (which would be in the nature of simulations) and approved, if found not to have malign side effects and found to be useful, only with their own regulatory strings. The ‘shadow’ financial system, as Roubini calls it, has become a giant ectoplasm of iffy puts and options, in a system that really has already developed the vehicles it needs for investment, thank you very much. And, as we have seen, Alien turns to the nanny state as soon as the downside whacks it. Thrust the fuckers into the light. Regulation now, regulation forever.”

And notice this, in today’s WSJ:
“Joseph Stiglitz, a professor of economics at Columbia University who won the Nobel in 2001, suggested misguided innovation itself caused the current turmoil. Noting that homeowners’ most important risk assessment is the likelihood that they can retain their home amid market volatility, Stiglitz said, “these are the problems [financial markets] should have created products to match. But they created risks, and now we’re bearing the consequences of this so-called innovation.”
There were some areas of agreement. The standards that gauge how much capital banks should hold — called Basel II for the Swiss city in which they were developed — focus too tightly on managing daily risk and not enough on handling crises. “What happens most of the time is not important,” said Scholes, noting the current financial turmoil comes on the heels of the dot-com bubble’s bursting and the Asian financial crisis of the early 1990s. “We have to learn how to handle the shocks when they occur.”
One idea that might prevent a repeat of the turmoil: a commission that would vet financial products before their release, akin the Food and Drug Administration’s evaluation of drugs before they’re released to the market. McFadden suggested, “we may need a financial-instrument administration that tests the robustness of financial instruments and approves only the uses where they can do no harm.”

I came across this quote at Marginal Revolution, the libertarian blog run out of George Mason university's economics department, which is a wholly owned subsidiary of Koch Industries. The bloggers denounced it as a terrible idea. If the crank libertarians are opposed to it, it must be good!

Dove son? che loco è questo?

LI has been thinking that what I need to do, if I am to satisfy the armies of periodizers that inhabit my nightmares, is to go from showing how the conditions for the change in the attitude towards happiness came together in the seventeenth and eighteenth century (this is what all these themes over the past half a year have been about, captain!) to showing how happiness became a norm. That is, showing how it ended up filling three places normatively - as a feeling; as a judgment over the life order (or a judgment over lifestyles); and as a justification for political and economic arrangements. So far, I’ve been trying to show that those spaces haven’t always been connected by happiness. That this threefold social phenomena isn’t simply a matter of one feeling taking over from a previous dominant one. That the three places condition each other; and that in the wake of the slow vanishing of the human limit, there was play room for a number of affective political structures. Most notably, that of volupté. I’ve liked the often quoted phrase of Tallyrand’s said about the “sweetness” of life in the ancien regime, since that seems to point to something that is not a happiness norm, but that still held down this space between the desacralizing of the life order and the absence of a normative sense of happiness as the final legitimating end of social arrangements.

How would such a life be lived? Well, I can’t really do better than point to a quartet of Mozart’s operas: Le Nozze di Figaro, Cosi fan tutte, Don Giovanni, and Die Zauberflöte.

In reading Bruce Allan Brown’s book about Cosi fan tutte, I came across the name Johann Pezzl – probably a very well known name to Mozart fans. Myself, I hadn’t heard of him before. Pezzl was a fellow mason and an inveterate scribbler, briefly one of Joseph II’s spies (another instance of the adventurer), and the producer of a number of popular books about Vienna. There are some wonderful quotes from Pezzl in Brown’s book – alas, I haven’t been able to find Pezzl’s Skizze von Wien, although I have found a copy of Neue Skizze von Wien.

I don’t have much time this week, but I want to do a little Pezzl quoting. And I wanted to link to this great production of Cosi fan tutte. Act two, scene 16 in particular seems to gather together so many of the themes I have been treating that it makes gives me the interpreter’s vertigo. You will notice that Despina speaks swabian – Mesmer’s language – and tartar – the language of Catherine’s Siberian Shaman:

Come comandano
Dunque parliamo:
So il greco e l'arabo,
So il turco e il vandalo;
Lo svevo e il tartaro
So ancor parlar