Archive for 2003

The Scenewash Project Manifesto


27 Oct

Patriotic-Eagle

American Resolve

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WASHINGTON, DC - The Scenewash Project is a slowly developing critical work-in-progress. With our outside status as autodidacts, the notorious man in the street, we are concerned foremost with identifying the strategic forces now influencing the corrosive state of American politics, its public policies, both foreign and domestic, and in postulating, after careful consideration of the formidable body of evidence, a compelling worldview better suited to these uncertain times which try humanity's collective soul, contaminate our air, corrupt our speech, implode our habits, regale our future, and break our very wills to contribute to a sane and friendly but progressive and fearless community. We have considered this task a worthy occupation to the end of our lives, if need be, because we believe that the original promises of these United States of America still beckon, and that the American political experiment, despite its follies and excesses which certainly require checking, is superior to any the world has yet seen. We will not prepare for a collapse of the West, just because a few malingering malcontents clamour for world revolution, whether it be from a Marxist, a Maoist, or an Islamist perspective, but shall fight these perspectives while calling for a more focussed revitalization of America's own front and backyards.

More clearly understood as a rather ordinary attempt to peel back the layers of a conflicted mental landscape—where art and politics beat each other up while few are they who seem the wiser—we will express ourselves in terms of the past and the present, and will not appeal to an uncertain future which fatalists of every tradition, especially those of religion, of politics, and of science, pay homage to and usually broker every prejudice and every pride in vainglorious attempts to thrust the spirit of humanity onto the flaming pyres of god, gold, state, and imperialist superstition.

The salt of the earth purifies and preserves. Where do we begin this purification process? Who will be our leaders? Is it possible that a renewed sensibility can arise from the falsifying political landscape now pulled taut like a rubber band by the existing powers that be? We don’t know, but we insist on trying.
To and end that provides a continuation of what once was the unimpeachable character of this nation, we offer few strategies or discernable guideposts to the currently self-enchanted. We have no use for those satisfied warriors of the establishment, or those who wear the stripes of our enemies, smile the crooked smile, and walk the crooked mile beautifully camouflaged behind the mysteries of selfishness or treason. We shall show how they also have no use for us. With a multitude of theories calling for bombs and abortion, no one is safe in this calculating world. Of course, we—the radical centrists—refuse to be pigeonholed, not by the haranguing extremists nor by the denizens and addicts of apathy. If we are a hybrid breed of political creature, so be it.

We, however, boast of a singular aim. To articulate a well-considered argument describing what we believe to be the only hope for America and the world, and that hope, in a phrase, is progressive centrism. The center is nearly always dismissed by the polarizing POWERS OF ENTRENCHMENT as mushy or wishy washy, unable to make up its minds. We however, believe that it is these polarizing powers of the Left and the Right, who fight false wars on false battlegrounds, who make well-choreographed concessions in lucrative soundbytes and photo op activities merely for appearances sake who have truly betrayed this country, and this planet. In the United States with its two party system, the aggragate lobbies and special interests attest plainly to this phenomenon of hypocrisy which disrepects and excludes (while still clamouring for its vote) the progressive centrist. These dialecticians who worship the binary while faithlessly praising the unitary, operate on misguided principles which presume dialectics is an inclusive exercise of expression rather than the polarizing noise only well-entrenched and sometimes well-meaning fools and their followers, unquestionably trapped in status and nuance, can embrace.

The byword is moderation in all things but truth. Extremism is killing us all. Polarization is the sword that fertilizes the fields of plenty with the blood of innocence, and rots the crops of destiny. Our manifesto is not the place for specific criticism, but the Scenewash Project web site will, by the best laid plans of mice and men, embrace this dialectical mission. The Left and the Right must be reeled in.

Once the tightened rubber band has been pulled to its extreme limit and has been popped, truth no longer exists in its most perfect sense with no beginning and no end, of equal benefit to all, but becomes the ultimate weapon of deception, far worse than the chartable deceptions of the band-tightening oppositional parties in their constrained tugs of war. Surely we can recognize the political landscape in this metaphor.
We believe that the Declaration of Independence, the US Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the writings and spirit of Thomas Paine are a good place to start. The greed of the right and the stupidity of the left have rendered the vast majority of us useless, oppressed by the perfumed stench of their theories and their actions. The salt of the earth purifies and preserves. Where do we begin this purification process? Who will be our leaders? Is it possible that a renewed sensibility can arise from the falsifying political landscape now pulled taut like a rubber band by the existing powers that be? We don't know, but we insist on trying.

We are reminded of this metaphor. Jesus of Nazareth was walking along the road to anywhere. The mother of two of his disciples who were brothers, rushed up and voiced her desire that he grant her wish that one of them sit on their master's left hand (wing) and the other to sit on his right. The Nazarene's reply was simple and to the point: "You don't know what you are talking about. He went on to describe that the rulers of the heathen exhibit hierarchies of the strong who oppress the little ones, but it must not be so among them, the chosen. I add a footnote. Among the common folk there is a general consensus that politics is the mother of all harlots. Thus, I derive my notion of the "progressive centrist" as originating with this tale.

In another of the synoptics, the story is retold without the mother's presence, but it is the brothers themselves who approach their teacher with this request for special position and honors. The remainder of the incident is identical to the other.

It is clear. The Left and the Right each boast a portion of the TRUTH, which can be likened to a rubber band that has no beginning and no end. The progressive centrist inhabits the area within the circle created by the band itself, open and free space loosely formed and with equal access to the truth which lies along the circumference of the band. Both parties in the extreme meanwhile haplessly mark battle lines shouting war cries and stretch the band of truth as far as they can by pulling it deep and taut into their own camps, tightening and oppressing the more central and observable truths and those populations which dwell inside the once freely-circulating circle. Once the tightened rubber band has been pulled to its extreme limit and has been popped, truth no longer exists in its most perfect sense with no beginning and no end, of equal benefit to all, but becomes the ultimate weapon of deception, far worse than the chartable deceptions of the band-tightening oppositional parties in their constrained tugs of war. Surely we can recognize the political landscape in this metaphor.

To live the literary life along the bold, new terms of hypertextual reality and the music in my head, keeping our eyes on our own pages and thus working to defeat the demons of boredom that envy and indifference can frequently induce and inadequately generalize while keeping free from the entanglements of frenzy the world mandates with its emphasis on competition and so-called originality. To work the gravitational pull of our own simple orbit, one field of inertia at a time…
There must be a better way to fix what ails us than rupturing the rubber band while trying to maintain the status quo or sending the globe into unfathomable chaos as many on the far left and far right would advocate, each according to their own devices. So while we recall that the life and works of Thomas Paine are a good place to begin analyzing the difference between zero and nothing, the left and the right, extremism and moderation, life and death, we acknowledge that we do not live in his time, and therefore, must invent new methods to render equality, peace and plenty equitably upon the earth.

What say ye?

So, there is much work ahead of us, and we promise only this:

To experiment with the strident advances of web technology and design, deploying each to an oddball degree, while avoiding the genuflection of a generic stylism which furnishes the cynic with a strategic mouthful of pleasure while leaving us sad and purposeless. We will commit to compiling a point and counterpoint latticework mapping the existing political schematic as we find it. We shall then parse, and emerge with what we consider to be the radical centrist position along this latticework.

To furnish enough raw material to keep us busy through the thick years of our recorded visitation. To live the literary life along the bold, new terms of hypertextual reality and the music in my head, keeping our eyes on our own pages and thus working to defeat the demons of boredom that envy and indifference can frequently induce and inadequately generalize while keeping free from the entanglements of frenzy the world mandates with its emphasis on competition and so-called originality. To work the gravitational pull of our own simple orbit, one field of inertia at a time...

Gabriel Thy
October 27, 2003

From Jack Kerouac To Tom Paine For Words We Never Reconciled


14 Jul

Thomas-Paine-by-Laurent-Dabos

Thomas Paine by Laurent Dabos

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Dateline July 14, 2003

Betsy Sue and I have just returned home in DC from a four-day tour of several specific sites in jolly old New England. First stop of keen interest was the Thomas Paine estate and cottage in New Rochelle, NY (up I-95 a few miles northeast of the George Washington Bridge in NYC), and a rather encouraging conversation with the on-premises caretaker there, a presiding member of the Thomas Paine Society. Always perfect timing, we were beaming when we learned that although the cottage was presently closed for painting and other renovations, conducted as an Eagle Scout project not due for completion for another month, we were offered and we made the quick tour and snapped a few pictures of the tiny man's cottage and what was left of his grounds, all to our patriotic delight.

Although this was not our first encounter with the small stature of most men of that era, it was still shocking to note how often we had to duck to get through doors and even the narrow hallways were notably menacing to the modern super-sized American tourist.

Then we continued on up through Connecticut where we stayed our first night in a quaint little Massachusetts motor lodge in a township called Stirbridge, where the wife swears she recalls staying as a child on family vacation. The next morning (July 4th) we drove the hundred miles up to Lowell, MA to breathe the air around that old milltown which was later decimated by the migration of the mill industry to Georgia and other parts south. Our leading purpose in Lowell was to check out the Jack Kerouac memorial erected in the deceased Beat writer's hometown. We were not disappointed.

Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac

Though nary a bust or portrait of the old drunk was present, a dozen or so marble tablets bearing excerpts from Kerouac's books were set length-wise into the stone plaza, clustered among welcomed benches and the handful of towering and smaller weeping willows on an unappointed edge of town seemingly frozen in dingy time still looking eerily like the period of young Jacques' childhood (the 1940s), all of which seemed to capture the desperate and mournful spirit of Kerouac's beat generation.

To the east spanned an old iron bridge, glistening silver in the morning sun but draped in an indifferent rash of predictable rust upon closer inspection. Due east and south, old mill warehouses now converted into luxury apartments were squired by narrow canals which zig zagged through the entire downtown.

It was sizzling even in the shade by now, but amply pleasant nevertheless as we watched the tourist trolleys whiz by with a few riders we would have joined but for other plans for that day. A quick gas-up at the green and white and we were soon cruising again, this time on the Interstate headed forty miles south into Beantown in anticipation of the annual starburst sky, a born-again patriot's holiday in the footsteps and lantern calls of where this country tis of thee all began, where we had reserved a room on the 27th floor of the four star 28 floor Sheraton in the fiendishly trendy and inviting Boston Back Bay midtown neighborhood marked to the west by the Charles River, to the north by downtown, and to the south by Fenway Park - home of the Red Sox who were then busy setting a home run record down in Yankee Stadium by sending seven pitches off pinstriped pitching into the stands. In a hundred years no team had accomplished this feat against the legendary Bronx squads. Look it up.

After checking in and grabbing some lunch, we rested a bit before shooting to the top of the Prudential Tower (50th floor, attached by an indoor mall to our hotel), where for seven bucks apiece we could view the entire Boston sprawl through the active gray haze of smog and 95 degree heat and humidity. But see it we did, and can't wait to view all the pictures. We later joined on foot some 700,000 headstrong revelers marching toward the Charles where after an evening of the Boston Pops and other special guests, the thirty minute fireworks display wowed many.

Boston officials claimed some 700,000 strong had made it to the Charles River Esplanade for this year's festivities, topping the previous high count of a half million with room to spare, and than doubling last year's 300,000 visitors.
We, however, sweaty, exhausted, and hungry, strolled back to the Boylston Street drag to find some dinner, finally deciding on a dapper little Thai place called Bombay Blue detailed with a beautiful expanse of dark teal paint, red brick, and opaque glass walls. Our only complaint was, what else, the heat, but we were smilingly accommodated with seating in the direct line of the fan purring from the cashier counter. My own soft-shelled crab entree sealed the night for me. A half hour pace back to the hotel, and we still hadn't heard the requisite boom of fireworks, but somehow suspected we had missed the show completely, not that I hold any fascination for the light show. I never have, not as a child, not as a drunk, not as an old sober patriot. No appeal at all.

But Betsy was interested, and strangely enough, just as we arrived on foot back in front of the Prudential Tower which would lead back to the hotel, a strong breeze began blowing into the streets off Boston Harbor. The excruciating heat of a mere half hour earlier had vanished.

We decided to plop down on one of the handful of benches there among the modern sculpture installations, soaking up the city and the time. We chatted, and watched quick, pretty people flow across the stones for thirty minutes or so before making it back to the room, but not before Betsy almost ducked me for the hotel bar where the big screen TV had just announced the fireworks were to begin. Not me. I was flustered, fuzzy, and finished. I had to get out of my clothes and horizonstal, still not rested enough after two earlier all-nighters launching RADIO SCENEWASH, my online radio station of which I'll spill more beans later.

So, despite everything, we watched the historic display on television, can you believe it? Boston officials claimed some 700,000 strong had made it to the Charles River Esplanade for this year's festivities, topping the previous high count of a half million with room to spare, and than doubling last year's 300,000 visitors. The big news, echoed various forms of the media, was the influx of travellers from across the nation who had spirited specifically to Boston to toast her as the symbolic cradle of patriotism and freedom that marks this nation's birth.

On the way back, we stopped in Darien, CN for lunch. Quaint? This little nest of quaint is like some fairy tale. Had hot sandwiches at a busy little tavern where the men's restroom was plastered in nudes and other erotica from a bygone era. I asked the wife if she'd had a peculiar potty room experience, and she said no before I told her about the men's decorum. Very strange. And then we were off to Philadelphia where we visited the awe-inspiring Museum of Art, the tiny but delightful Auguste Rodin sculpture gallery, and lastly, the Edgar Allan Poe House, while visiting a friend (Yet Another Steve Taylor) who gave us the play by play tour since all these places are within walking distance of his apartment, although the Poe exhibit is more like a long hike...so we drove. Twas thoughtful of you Richard Waller to call my dear dear Betsy. Something eerie about getting a ring in Philadelphia standing in the EAP museum however. Congratulations on your continued energies. I know you are excited to still be going strong. Keep us informed. I'm tired as tigers with heavy eyelids today, Betsy's at work, but thought I'd let you know I got your note...

cottage

Quaint living...

Most of this nation's general population of a certain age knows nothing of the struggles and successes of our beloved very first American—Thomas Paine, Citizen Paine, critic of scroundrels and perfumed highbrows alike, instead we are taught from the overwrought spit-polished images of Washington, Adams, Jefferson, no insult to these men intended, but for the love of liberty, why is the reputation of this very singular mind and heart of the revolution allowed to wither on the vine of American culture?

Long live Citizen Paine! I was told by the Paine cottagemaster that the BBC was planning to cross the pond to film a feature on him. Let's hope so, and let's also bear witness to the desire that the egonomical fox Bill O'Reilly hasn't forever tainted the name of the very author of the American Revolution with his recent attacks on the so-called ultra left Tom Paine web site financed by staunch liberal Bill Moyers, and run by his son...

Wednesday July 2, 2003: The Wonderful Launch of RSN


02 Jul

jack-kerouac

Jack Kerouac by Dewitt

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Wednesday July 2, 2003

Howdy Chazroe—here are those heraldry prints I promised you. Enjoy. Trust everything is decent with you and Pops, the dog, the job, the school, the dream. It's been a whirlwind summer since taking my sabbatical (perhaps permanent???) from the photo lab at the end of May. Am currently building an online radio station (the Radio Scenewash Network, RSN) which will be best accessed through a broadband connection (DSL), although I am formatting it at the 56kps rate which should allow those with dial-up modems to stream with decent results. Once we go live, I'll send you the details...Still busy compiling the song database, synchronizing bit rates and line levels, but should start stitching together that first playlist within a few business days. To sum up the station in a few words or a simple label would be impossible, but probably the college radio venue might come close to describing the eclectic selection of classic and local punk, hard and soft rock, country, folk, and even electronic and spoken word compositions I plan. Eventually I'll be creating my own vocal lead-ins and radio chatter with some special spots by Tim Shipman and other local voices to round out the sets. This is the most excitement I've been able to generate for myself in several years. Psyched...

That said, Sue and I are heading up to New England for a few days, leaving tomorrow, stopping first in New Rochelle, NY to see the Thomas Paine museum there, then onto Darien, CN for the first night's snore, then on up for a night on the Boston Harbor (Back Bay), before peeling off to just north of there to Lowell, the hometown of Beat writer Jack Kerouac. Then the trip veers south to Philadelphia where we should spend Saturday night, copping a visit to the Museum of Modern Art nested just a spit and a smile from our friend Steve Taylor's house. There, we'll catch the Marcel Duchamp collection of dadaist art pieces he donated them in the 1920s...

We don't get away very often, but I've been planning this trip for years. Although what's left of tropical storm Bill will make this a soggy spin, we've already postponed this trip once for similar rain invasions. What a spring & summer! After five years of extreme drought, we've had nothing but rain, rain, and more rain, not to mention all the snow we had this winter.

Anywaze, lemme hear from you sometime...

Happy trails,

GT

Closing Arguments On Max Stirner


22 May

blizz02sm

Chip On My Shoulder

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Originally published on May 22, 2003

My apologies Mr. Westling,

Without a doubt, I did not intend to tarry so long in replying to your previous dispatch, but life and its shadowboxers are busy as usual gesticulating with grunt and grin, keeping me bearing loads of some particular consequence in other less consoling quarters, but I did very much wish to reply with familiar timber. As to the "noisy self-interest" comment and its covering a lot of ground, of course, of course, and THAT was the point. Five or six people struggling each at various stages of life dotted across the four corners of the global landscape while slumped over the almighty questions of what exactly to do and precisely when to do it, ended as one might expect, everyone busying himself with his own perceived notions and chores in his own perceived neck of the woods to the detriment of the so-called group effort. No great mystery existed for our minds to pursue absent a personal agenda, absolutely nothing to reveal except that path each of us were already pursuing. To that end we just sort of drifted away from each other tethered to our own concerns, pretty much the result I predicted at the beginning of the "not really so great" experiment.

You wrote:
For or against Stalin. Three years earlier Breton's Surrealists experienced a similar debacle. There was no bridging the gap between the poet's investigation into experience and the Party's requirements of practical administration. But it arguably brought to light an irreducible toggle at the very core of the revolutionary project: does the collective or the individual have the ultimate say in charting direction of the revolution? The Surrealists never satisfactorily resolved this problem, and even as late as 1952, Breton indicated that his answer to the question "does the revolution require that social liberation must occur before individual liberation can?" was yes. I don't believe he really thought out all the possible implications that attend to this issue. If social liberation is primary, doesn't it follow that individuals are reduced to an instrumental role? This question goes to the core of the entire Marxist project.

I write:
Precisely! Just as a water molecule requires both hydrogen and oxygen atoms, each in obedience to its own individual composition and inertia, the social fabric of humanity cannot exist without freedom first gaining a foothold at the individual level. And yet, the masses great and small tend to follow leaders, whether these leaders are self-appointed messiahs, statesmen or revolutionaries, crowd-anointed stars of the hour, or bad boys (girls, too!) on parade and each grand movement is the articulation of a few wide open mouths apotheosized by the herd despite all intellectual cajoling that is to set men free to the contrary , because, whether this phenonmenon is a matter of personal nature or of social oppression, not all humans are capable much less inspired by an uncompromised divine light strong enough and focused enough to shake loose of the fetters and act as a catalyst for change. As such there will always be leaders and there will always be followers. Hence institutions and molecular compounds, mighty poets, shining lights, and safety in numbers.

I dare not trust ANY authority, unless I first taste its fruit. But individual tastes change, shift, capsize. As circumstances change, so usually does the hand that feeds them. Bureaucratic strength is corruptible as a result of its authoritarian nature in caricature of individuality redeemed, and thus l’d prefer living on the outside, accepting that isolation, rather than join any movement that coerces me with threats or ill-gotten gains, phoney, inflated, or otherwise.
You wrote:
My reference to your manifesto being "a little too sweeping" should be explained, I suppose. What I meant was that to assert that nothing of note has happened since the, what? The 1947 International Surrealist Exhibition perhaps? Was going a bit too far. Personally, I find some of [Roberto] Matta's 1960's works a real extension of the Surrealist outlook. Even Pop has a role in furthering our ideas of personal liberation. Of course, I look at the best of Pop as being heavily laced with irony, so that it can be read as a critique of commodity capitalism. I agree with you the balkanization is something we need to transcend.

I write:
But there is no escape from this monstrosity we know as time; time changes all perspectives, hence truth is always in travail. At least none less worthy of our concerns in our current apocalyptic node. We are soldiers called into a life of combat. Each soldier is armed according to whims of the moment. While it is certainly too late to write poems, it is far too early to burn books and paper money on the trash heap of our own impatient imaginations. Socialism will supplant capitalism, but not tomorrow, or the next day. There is much yet to be done in the name of competitive fetishism. Do I have proof of this? Does it matter except along the broad avenues and speculative pitter patter of the chattering classes?

You wrote:
I too am an autodidact, to a large degree. I do have 24 semester hours' credit from Roosevelt University in Chicago dating from 1972-74. My first great epiphany came at attending the Marcel Duchamp retrospective at the Art Institute of Chicago in March 1974. His work and life showed me that formal education provided more obstacles than opportunities. I find academia to be one of the principal obstacles to both individual and social transformation. My second great epiphany came from understanding the intimate connection between [Rene] Duchamp and Max Stirner in 1989. My course has been set ever since. The bulk of the fruits of my interest in this connection is forthcoming, but it won't be too long now.

To announce that the individual is the primary thrust of existence is hardly breakthrough revolutionary cant, but it is Stirner's rejection of revolution, even as his distrust in institutions is genuine, that interests me, and I thank you for bringing him to my attention, if for nothing more than hereditary concerns
I wrote:
Having run willy nilly through all those blackened doors and those well-read windows, what have I gained that will put starch in my speech? Am I not the same dissatisfied sojourner that I was at 8, 14, 18, 22, refusing to memorize the lives and works of others so that I can exercise more freely the haunts withering within myself, only to be mocked as an unschooled ignoramus and a wasteling, no talent fool? What is it that we are really seeking, you and I? Should I yawn or squeeze a peach into my fist? Freedom? Like Pilate, I ask, what is freedom? What is truth? Is the only damned truth I can ever know for certain (because it has been with me the longest) is that every day of every year of my freelanced life has been augured by the truth and the lie shaped like a bonzai tree that encourages me to lose my ephemeral status, my skin, my gender, my race, my stinking unresolved life for the sake of OTHERS and their own unresolved notions? What do I care about others? Do they care about me? What is this truth I prefer to think as the ONLY TRUTH? If my life is nothing but a zen koan, has not my own insignificance been the only path worth noting. Debord was a hard-nosed poseur, just like the multitudes grinning with marmalade teeth, but he indeed invented himself, the poet and raconteur with critical aims. Six billion individuals, or five giant nations under one roof? What are the odds of me inventing either possibility?

You wrote:
You really shouldn't lift whole sections of material from the Encyclopedia of Philosophy on Stirner and present it as your own thought, although you chose a reputable source. George Woodcock, although prone to some of the same collectivist biases as so many other commentators on Stirner, did do a pretty good job at characterizing his thought.

I write:
Well lad, I hardly presented that chunk as my own writing. Methinks it twas a dead giveaway...

So I make no excuses. As to Stirner, the following is all I know... Notice the all caps, vital dates in parentheses. I suppose I could have pasted myself into the narrative, or simply given a reference. Or said I knew nothing, and let it go at that. Yawn.

max-stirner

Max Stirner

STIRNER, MAX (1806-1856), was the nom de plume of the German individualist philosopher Johann Kaspar Schmidt. Born in Bayreuth, Bavaria, Schmidt had a poor childhood (like myself). His academic career was long and fragmented. I am uneducated, while sponging from the world of books and media like there is no other purpose to life than to have read too much to be of any worldly good.

Et cetera. The point being, those who know anything about the "inimitable" unrequited fashion I shove ink to paper, know that I splatter adverbs, adjectives and lengthy unbounded syntax around the page like wood nymphs in search of an unsoiled Grecian urn, and either praise me, criticize me, or shriek delightfully at the joke, but the word inimitable always sets the pace. It was rather obvious to a seasoned reader of this humble bumbler which particular lines were added for personal affect, about four I think, at the very beginning, and the rest which naturally came from a source written in short brittle academic sentences complete with caps and parentheticals for the pure joy of letting a new sparring partner know that those few paragraphs were indeed ALL I knew of Stirner, line for line, having pulled the historical man distorted or not straight out a book that very morning, scanned, OCR'd, dutifully copied and then routinely pasted into context, prompted of course by your own well-appreciated overtures to him. Apologies that I didn't properly reference the jag for you, but I simply didn't realize I was submitting a white paper unto the authorities. Duly noted is your kind exception to my frightful oversight. See Debord, for more insights into plagiarism, although I really wasn't erecting any such scam.

You wrote:
I guess you're already surmising that I vehemently disagree with your characterization of Stirner as "yet another status quo philosopher". Your evaluation sound a lot like Karl Marx's ideas on the subject, and I am painfully aware that the situationists used Marx as their basic philosophical substrate. Do you know a book that came out in 2002 by Kristin Ross called "May '68 and its Afterlives"? She, too, decries the "creeping individualism" that has seeped into the discourse on May '68 and related phenomena. But that is material for another post.

The only philosophy worth a nutcracker's suite is that which can be applied to the world in play. On the brink of catastrophic destruction, our world is not a safe place. Psychological warriors must gird their loins as the mighty clash for the sake of their history books. Words no longer make a difference, they have withered in the mouths of the arms dealers.
I write:
Status quo in my book projects an entirely other meaning than the one I presume you to harbor. To me status quo is extended to mean that all life is in flux, and since we have always had shining beacons, artists, poets, philosophers, statesmen, soldiers, con men, whores, zealots, saints, sinners, and the rest of us catawauling among the tall timbers, grassy knolls and dry desert sands. To announce that the individual is the primary thrust of existence is hardly breakthrough revolutionary cant, but it is Stirner's rejection of revolution, even as his distrust in institutions is genuine, that interests me, and I thank you for bringing him to my attention, if for nothing more than hereditary concerns.

You wrote:
The thing that is important now is to indicate just why Stirner is not just another apologist for the small-time shopkeeper. The key point has to do with the irreducible toggle in the individualism/collectivism question: can I keep my own prerogatives intact if I allow a collective entity to be primary in my own mind and, by extension, in the world? The answer, I'm afraid, is no, and if this is true, then my own instrumentalism at the hand of the collectivity is inevitable. This engenders what Stanley Milgram (yes, that Milgram) calls the "agentic state", in which I sign away my right of decision in favor of one "in authority". I presume you are aware of the infamous Milgram experiments of 1960. One look at the results of these experiments should be enough to convince that ours is not a world in which "enlightened" egoism rules, only the debased kind, the infantile kind. Where vulgar egoism leaves off, Stirner begins. It is possible to trace a trajectory of an increase in "affective individualism" (as the historian Lawrence Stone terms it), beginning in the late 17th century and continuing up to the present time. Kinship ties have weakened, and individual prerogatives strengthened, in a fairly unbroken progression ever since this began. One of the main problems, in my opinion, is that this process hasonly gone halfway through its cycle.

stadium-alley

Stasis unleashed into a game of blind alley's bluff...

I write:
Now, THIS is indeed close to the mark! How I have raged raged against the dying of the light when encountering the uncorrected rantings of Ayn Rand and Nietzsche (ditto in spades to leftist scalawags like Marx and his progeny), but yet have been unable to resolve the problem of how to congeal the collective notion, honestly and succinctly, given the range and variations of the specimen. I dare not trust ANY authority, unless I first taste its fruit. But individual tastes change, shift, capsize. As circumstances change, so usually does the hand that feeds them. Bureaucratic strength is corruptible as a result of its authoritarian nature in caricature of individuality redeemed, and thus l'd prefer living on the outside, accepting that isolation, rather than join any movement that coerces me with threats or ill-gotten gains, phoney, inflated, or otherwise. Living in the age of quarrel is no picnic on the high seas, but I think you are indeed traveling the right tracks in pinpointing what ails much of the West, that is the mystery of defining, or uncovering that nexus which balances the rights of the individual with the good of the collective. There has got to be a mathematical proof in this somewhere, but flesh and blood properly inspired is never a game of mathematics where zero and affinity take a stand, and the genetics of sin still rule with transparent and opposing thumbs. The society of the spectacle is no match for the society of dead certainty.

You wrote:
Individual empowerment is what we all need, not a centralized plan of forced income redistribution. This will only result in endless counterrevolution. It is moralism run wild, what confounded the French Revolution and the communist one as well. Collectives that legislate what's good for the others against their consent is no good. Self-directed anarchism could avoid these problems if brutality could be expunged from the consciousness of the millions. That if is so big you can drive a truck through it, I know. But the revolution is impossible without it. Start small, get bigger. Revolution from below. I believe we are not so very far apart philosophically. Breton, as well as Picabia, Max Ernst and Duchamp, all found Stirner to be quite compelling. It is only a question of continuing to resolve all the inconsistencies attending to the implementation of collectively constituted projects that keeps us from moving forward.

I write:
Such is the curse of the dreamer. That revolution from below you declare is part and parcel of the status quo for which I stand. But bullets and bombs, poisons and pride, hand in hand, one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, each a lure of fascination, each a stumbling block. The only philosophy worth a nutcracker's suite is that which can be applied to the world in play. On the brink of catastrophic destruction, our world is not a safe place. Psychological warriors must gird their loins as the mighty clash for the sake of their history books. Words no longer make a difference, they have withered in the mouths of the arms dealers. Flesh on the bone will be burnt to bare cinders and those violent screams and sentimental songs of peace will not be heard in the heavens, but will choke on the smoke of the ancestral homes now in ashes and worse. Gentler minds will continue to seek sanctuary, but will find none, but the ones they were born into like the flesh of the moth. This is the age we live to defy, but few, very few, poets of promise and peace poling along a bloody regime have ever made it out alive, and the next generation often fares worse. But we can't stop dreaming, can we?

Munificently yours,

GT

The Stirner Approach


18 Mar

vanishing-man

Vanishing Individual

samplex

Originally published on March 18, 2003

David Westling wrote:
I found your essay provocative, if a little too sweeping; but essentially I agree. What is your opinion of the role of radical egoism (Stirner) in the revolution that dada could have embodied? Is there an archive of postings that I can access to see what threads of discussion there have been? Thank you for your attention.

I write:
Thanks sir, for your interest in the Scenewash Project website. Unfortunately the work has stalled in its present dormant state for more than three years now, a state precipitated by the rudderless and noisy self-interest of several persons of varying ages and backgrounds scattered across the globe joined together as compatriots only to embark on a no-holds barred investigation we hoped would lead us to an "immediate" worldview, a worldview that both interpreted the world as we know it, and one that deployed us with the marching orders surely every proud intelligence would both recognize as brutally honest and timelessly truthful earmarked for the gristmill of the spectacular society with its impending doom of logical and illogical combatants.

I blame our ultimate failure on the impetuous motives of youth. Half of us were still in college. The other half were in our forties and self-learned (forgive the failures of this particular term, since no one learns in a vacuum, but then collective learning is a misnomer as well). We sputted about for a couple of years and finally spun out without much ado. Of course, the collective project's demise was sealed months, even a year or so before September 11. That dreadful day did nothing to bring us any new energies, and so the project, at least in its collective form, ceased to exist. My plans to return the project to its original state as a personal work is moving forward only in small periodic increments.

Provocative? Yes. First and foremost. Nothing if not provocative. A little too sweeping? Ah, another fine visit from the most frequent criticism aimed at me. No harm done however. Indeed, the problem as I've seen it has always been tackling the universal problem of the balkanization of the universal, and yet while loathing cliche and sloganeering as useless placebos of individual freedom, I have not given myself over to the ultimate work, avoiding it as a painful and perhaps worthless departure from the daily toils of tending to my wife's own dead ends.

However, I make no excuses.

As to Stirner, this is all I know...

STIRNER, MAX, was the nom de plume of the German individualist philosopher Johann Kaspar Schmidt. Born in Bayreuth, Bavaria, Schmidt had a poor childhood (like myself). His academic career was long and fragmented. I am uneducated, while sponging from the world of books and media like there is no other purpose to life than to had read tto much to be of any worldly good.

From 1826 to 1828 Stirner, however, studied philosophy at the University of Berlin, where he fell under the influence of Hegel. After brief periods at the universities of Erlangen and Konigsberg, he returned to Berlin in 1832 and with some difficulty gained a certificate to teach in Prussian Gymnasiums. Several years of poverty and unemployment followed, until Schmidt found a position as teacher in a Berlin academy for young ladies run by a Madame Gropius. After this he lived something of a double life: the respectable teacher of young ladies also marked time as the aspiring philosophical writer who assumed the name of Stirner.

The immediate stimulus that provoked Stirner to write his one important book, Der Einzige und sein Eigentum (Leipzig, 1845; translated by Steven T. Byington as The Ego and His Own, New York, 1907), was his association with the group of young Hegelians known as Die Freien (the "free ones"), who met under the leadership of the brothers Bruno and Edgar Bauer. In this company Stirner met Marx, Engels, Arnold Ruge, Georg Herwegh, and many other revolutionary intellectuals. In the same circle he also met Marie Dahnhardt, whom he married in 1843 and who left him in 1847. Before the publication of his book Stirner produced only a few brief periodical pieces, including an essay on educational methods printed by Karl Marx in Rheinische Zeitung.

His thought. Der Einzige und sein Eigentum, a treatise in defense of philosophic egoism, carried to its extreme the young Hegelian reaction against Hegel's teachings. In part it was a bitter attack on contemporary philosophers, particularly those with social inclinations. Stirner's associates among Die Freien were rejected as strongly as Hegel and Feuerbach.

Stirner's approach was characterized by a passionate anti-intellectualism which led him to stress the will and the instincts as opposed to the reason. He attacked systematic philosophies of every kind, denied all absolutes, and rejected abstract and generalized concepts of every kind. At the center of his vision he placed the human individual, of whom alone we can have certain knowledge; each individual, he contended, is unique, and this uniqueness is the very quality he must cultivate to give meaning to his life. Hence, he reached the conclusion that the ego is a law unto itself and that the individual owes no obligations outside himself. All creeds and philosophies based on the concept of a common humanity are, in Stirner's view, false and irrational; rights and duties do not exist; only the might of the ego justifies its actions.

There is much in common between Stirner's embattled ego and Nietzsche's superman; indeed, Stirner was seen as a forerunner of Nietzsche during the 1890s.

Stirner has often been included with the anarchist philosophers, and he has much in common with them. However, he differs from writers like Godwin, Proudhon, and Kropotkin in that the idea of a system of natural law, or immanent justice, which human law negates, is essential to their points of view. Stirner, however, rejected the idea of any such law, and in this respect he stands nearer to certain existentialists and the nihilists, Furthermore, while the anarchist seeks freedom as his ultimate goal, Stirner regarded such an aim as always being limited by external necessities; in its place he sought uniqueness or "ownness." "Every moment," he said, "the fetters of reality cut the sharpest welts in my flesh. But my own I remain."

Stirner agreed with the anarchists, however, in regarding the state as the great enemy of the individual who seeks to fulfill his "own will," The state and the self-conscious and willful ego cannot exist together; therefore the egoist must seek to destroy the state, but by rebellion rather than by revolution. This distinction is essential to Stirner's doctrine. Revolution, in overthrowing an established order, seeks to create another order; it implies a faith in institutions. Rebellion is the action of individuals seeking to rise above the condition they reject; it "demands that one rise, or exalt oneself." Revolution is a social or political act; rebellion is an individual act, and therefore appropriate to the egoist. If rebellion prospers, the state will collapse.

In rebellion the use of force is inevitable, and Stirner envisaged "the war of each against all," in which the egoist fights with all the means at his command. This viewpoint led Stirner to justify and even to exalt crime. Crime is the assertion of the ego, the rejection of the sacred. The aim of egoist rebellion is the free wielding of power by each individual.

In Stirner's view the end of this process is not conflict but a kind of dynamic balance of power between men aware of their own might, for the true egoist realizes that excessive possessions and power are merely limitations on his own uniqueness. His assertion is based on the absence of submissiveness in others; the withdrawal of each man into his uniqueness lessens rather than increases the chance of conflict, for "as unique you have nothing in common with the other any longer, and therefore nothing divisive or hostile either." Stirner argued that far from producing disunity among individuals, egoism allows the freest and most genuine of unions, the coming together without any set organization of the "Union of Egoists," which replace not only the state with its political repression but also society with its less obvious claims.

Later years. Der Einzige und sein Eigentum is not just a most extreme expression of individualism, it is also the single manifestation of Stirner's own revolt against a frustrating life that finally submerged him. In his totally undistinguished later years he embarked on a series of unsuccessful commercial ventures and translated English and French economists. His remaining work, Die Geschichte der Reaktion (Berlin, 1852), lacked the fire of discontent that made his earlier works provocative. Stirner's last years were shadowed by declining powers and haunted by creditors; he died poor and forgotten in 1856.


Yet another status quo philosopher, n'est pas? The world is THE WAY IT IS BECAUSE of radical egos at work and at play. The problem with Stirner's (and Nietzsche, and Ayn Rand, and yadda yadda's) brand of ME FIRST AND ONLY ideology (or anti-ideology) is that the world simply is, no matter what we or he or she believes (in ultra-competition or ultra-cooperation or the bastard hybrid we know now), and while Stirner's description of his own sense of freedom may very well describe most of the world's peculiar sense of ascendency, it does not and can not or at least should not describe it wholly. Limitless freedom is hardly freedom at all but mere tyranny (as Stirner but not Rand points out). And isn't it strange that we can find dozens of competing philosophies with which we find ourselves agreeing with on the surface, until we find ourselves in contradiction as soon as we make our first move in the eternal chess game, taffy-pull, or spelling bee down the block?

I am intrigued however with Stirner's language. Thanks for the tip. For now I have recently discovered Karl Popper, a veritable antithesis to Stirner, and so it goes. As for the archive you request, a partial archive can be found at:

[The following, marked in italics, is no longer available but I include it for memory's sake: Click on the SWILL archive link. I'd say that 60% of the original sworgster swill listserv has been archived. Again, I don't know when or how the other chunk will get posted. The server is a bit slow in returning what's already been punched into the database. There's some decent reading there if you can find it via keyword. Have fun. Join the SWILL. Suffice to say it's also dormant at this hour. Tthe other guys have bailed for one failed premise or another (always distilled to self-interest, or vital necessity in schedule, time, finances, strength, the best excuses in the world, since everybody uses them) but who knows what the future holds in store...]
Except the future does not exist until it becomes the present, even in terms of predestination or teleology.

Prelude To Max Stirner


04 Feb

swillsamplex

Originally published on February 4, 2003. This letter was preceded by The Stirner Approach. My response to this Prelude is posted here.

Dear Gabriel Thy,

Thanks for replying so thoughtfully to my post. I would like to comment on what you wrote. Your comments pique my interest on just what kind of disagreements might have been responsible for the group's demise. "Noisy self-interest" covers a lot of ground. It seems to me that in the aftermath of the fall of communism disagreements on the left compounded. 1938 brought a similar crisis to the left. For or against Stalin. Three years earlier Breton's Surrealists experienced a similar debacle. There was no bridging the gap between the poet's investigation into experience and the Party's requirements of practical administration. But it arguably brought to light an irreducible toggle at the very core of the revolutionary project: does the collective or the individual have the ultimate say in charting direction of the revolution? The Surrealists never satisfactorily resolved this problem, and even as late as 1952, Breton indicated that his answer to the question "does the revolution require that social liberation must occur before individual liberation can?" was yes. I don't believe he really thought out all the possible implications that attend to this issue.

If social liberation is primary, doesn't it follow that individuals are reduced to an instrumental role? This question goes to the core of the entire Marxist project. My reference to your manifesto being "a little too sweeping" should be explained, I suppose. What I meant was that to assert that nothing of note has happened since the, what? The 1947 International Surrealist Exhibition perhaps?

Was going a bit too far. Personally, I find some of Matta's 1960's works a real extension of the Surrealist outlook. Even Pop has a role in furthering our ideas of personal liberation. Of course, I look at the best of Pop as being heavily laced with irony, so that it can be read as a critique of commodity capitalism. I agree with you the the "balkanization of the universal" is something we need to transcend. I too am an autodidact, to a large degree. I do have 24 semester hours' credit from Roosevelt University in Chicago dating from 1972-74.

My first great epiphany came at attending the Marcel Duchamp retrospective at the Art Institute of Chicago in March 1974. His work and life showed me that formal education provided more obstacles than opportunities. I find academia to be one of the principal obstacles to both individual and social transformation. My second great epiphany came from understanding the intimate connection between Duchamp and Max Stirner in 1989. My course has been set ever since. The bulk of the fruits of my interest in this connection is forthcoming, but it won't be too long now.

Collectives that legislate what’s good for the others against their consent is no good. Self-directed anarchism could avoid these problems if brutality could be expunged form the consciousness of the millions. That if is so big you can drive a truck through it, I know. But the revolution is impossible without it. Start small, get bigger. Revolution from below.
You really shouldn't lift whole sections of material from the Encyclopedia of Philosophy on Stirner and present it as your own thought, although you chose a reputable source. George Woodcock, although prone to some of the same collectivist biases as so many other commentators on Stirner, did do a pretty good job at characterizing his thought.

I guess you're already surmising that I vehemently disagree with your characterization of Stirner as "yet another status quo philosopher". Your evaluation sound a lot like Karl Marx's ideas on the subject, and I am painfully aware that the situationists used Marx as their basic philosophical substrate. Do you know a book that came out in 2002 by Kristin Ross called "May '68 and its Afterlives"? She, too, decries the "creeping individualism" that has seeped into the discourse on May '68 and related phenomena. But that is material for another post.

The thing that is important now is to indicate just why Stirner is not just another apologist for the small-time shopkeeper. The key point has to do with the irreducible toggle in the individualism/collectivism question: can I keep my own prerogatives intact if I allow a collective entity to be primary in my own mind and, by extension, in the world?

The answer, I'm afraid, is no, and if this is true, then my own instrumentalism at the hand of the collectivity is inevitable. This engenders what Stanley Milgram (yes, that Milgram) calls the "agentic state", in which I sign away my right of decision in favor of one "in authority". I presume you are aware of the infamous Milgram experiments of 1960. One look at the results of these experiments should be enough to convince that ours is not a world in which "enlightened" egoism rules, only the debased kind, the infantile kind. Where vulgar egoism leaves off, Stirner begins. It is possible to trace a trajectory of an increase in "affective individualism" (as the historian Lawrence Stone terms it), beginning in the late 17th century and continuing up to the present time. Kinship ties have weakened, and individual prerogatives strengthened, in a fairly unbroken progression ever since this began. One of the main problems, in my opinion, is that this process has only gone halfway through its cycle.

Individual empowerment is what we all need, not a centralized plan of forced income redistribution. This will only result in endless counterrevolution. It is moralism run wild, what confounded the French Revolution and the communist one as well. Collectives that legislate what's good for the others against their consent is no good. Self-directed anarchism could avoid these problems if brutality could be expunged form the consciousness of the millions. That if is so big you can drive a truck through it, I know. But the revolution is impossible without it. Start small, get bigger. Revolution from below. Because there will always be struggle. Civilization is not a given. Each generation struggles anew with different, and if not different the same exact variables as the generation of their fathers. Without the foundation of the individual, a civil structure cannot be retained for long.

I believe we are not so very far apart philosophically. Breton, as well as Picabia, Max Ernst and Duchamp, all found Stirner to be quite compelling. It is only a question of continuing to resolve all the inconsistencies attending to the implementation of collectively constituted projects that keeps us from moving forward. Only.

We are not talking small-time stuff here, n'est ce-pas? Please respond if you care to.

Regards,

David Westling

Apologia From Gabriel
Apologies to Mr. Westling for taking the liberty, a liberty he may indeed characterize as overreach in re-publishing our short tet-a-tet without his expressed permission. But I find our brief work here worthwhile in pointing up a few crucial ideas central to any thriving philosophy which, by definition, must thoroughly engage the contemporary situation (where the individual finds himself threatened and made inert) at every level in both leaping tall buildings like storied men of action and crawling upon hands and knees thorough the filthy sewers of a collpasing infrastructure like rodents of an unrepentant generation, if we are to move beyond the fine words of old heroes and other remarkable curvatures of the spine.

S A M P L E X

"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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