Death, Desire and Loss in Western Culture 0415921740

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Death, Desire and Loss in Western Culture

BY T H E SAME

Radical

Tragedy:

Drama

Religion,

of Shakespeare Political

AUTHOR

Ideology

and Power

and His

in the

Contemporaries

Shakespeare

(editor, w i t h A l a n Sinfield) Sexual Dissidence:

Augustine

to Wilde,

Freud to

Foucault

JONATHAN

DOLLIMORE

Death, Desire and Loss in Western Culture

This edition published 2011 by Routledge: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group 711 Third Avenue New York, NY 10017

Routledge Taylor & Francis Group 2 Park Square, Milton Park Abingdon, Oxon 0X14 4RN

Published in the United States in 1998 by Routledge 29 West 35 Street, N e w York, N Y IOOOI www.routledge-ny.com

Published by arrangement with A l l e n Lane, T h e Penguin Press, Penguin Books L t d . , 27 Wrights Lane, L o n d o n w8 5 T Z , England Copyright © Jonathan D o l l i m o r e , 1998 T h e moral right of the author has been asserted A l l rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book

Set in 11/14 pt PostScript M o n o t y p e Sabon typeset by Rowland Phototypesetting L t d , Bury St Edmunds Suffolk

A C I P catalogue record for this book is available from the L i b r a r y of Congress

I S B N 0-415-92.174-0

Contents

Acknowledgements

vii

Introduction

ix I

T H E A N C I E N T

W O R L D

1 E r o s a n d T h a n a t o s , C h a n g e a n d L o s s i n the A n c i e n t W o r l d

3

2 ' A l l W o r d s F a i l t h r o u g h W e a r i n e s s ' : Ecclesiastes

36

3 Escaping Desire: Christianity, Gnosticism and B u d d h i s m

43

II

M U T A B I L I T Y , QUEST:

M E L A N C H O L Y

T H E

A N D

RENAISSANCE

4 F a t a l C o n f u s i o n s : Sex a n d D e a t h i n E a r l y M o d e r n C u l t u r e

59

5 ' D e a t h ' s Incessant M o t i o n '

71

6 D e a t h a n d Identity

84

7 ' D e s i r e is D e a t h ' : S h a k e s p e a r e III

SOCIAL

102 D E A T H

8 T h e D e n i a l of Death?

119

9 Degeneration and Dissidence

128

10 B e t w e e n D e g e n e r a t i o n a n d the D e a t h D r i v e : J o s e p h C o n r a d ' s Heart

of Darkness IV

THE 11

M O D E R N I T Y

145 A N D

A U T H E N T I C I T Y

PHILOSOPHY:

OF N O T H I N G N E S S

T h e Philosophical Embrace of Death: Hegel

12 H e i d e g g e r , K o j e v e a n d Sartre

153 161

C O N T E N T S

V

T H E DESIRE

NOT TO

BE: LATE M E T A P H Y S I C S

A N D P S Y C H O A N A L Y S I S 13 D y i n g as the R e a l A i m o f L i f e : S c h o p e n h a u e r

173

14 F r e u d : L i f e as a D e t o u r t o D e a t h

180

VI 15

R E N O U N C I N G

D E A T H

The Philosophy of Praxis and Emancipation: Feuerbach, M a r x , Marcuse VII

T H E A E S T H E T I C S OF

16 F i g h t i n g Decadence: 17

201 E N E R G Y

N i e t z s c h e against S c h o p e n h a u e r a n d

Wagner

231

Ecstasy and A n n i h i l a t i o n : Georges Bataille

249

18 I n S e a r c h o f P o t e n c y : D . H . L a w r e n c e VIII

D E A T H

A N D T H E

258

H O M O E R O T I C

19 W r e c k e d b y D e s i r e : T h o m a s M a n n

275

20 P r o m i s c u i t y a n d D e a t h

294

21

312

T h e W o n d e r o f the P l e a s u r e Notes

329

Bibliography

360

Index

381

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Percival M a r s , w h o changed me, to A l a n Sinfield a n d R a c h e l B o w l b y for changing me some more. A n d to H e l e n a D o l l i m o r e for her w i t a n d for keeping me half honest. Others deserving of thanks include Leo Bersani, Elizabeth C l a r k , Laura

C h r i s m a n , B o b D a v e n p o r t , M a r g r e t t a de G r a z i a , R o d n e y

Hillman,

Tony

Inglis, R i c h a r d K i n g ,

Penny

McCarthy,

Charles

M a r t i n d a l e , Peter O s b o r n e , W i l l i a m O u t h w a i t e , Peter S t a l l y b r a s s , K a t e S o p e r , T e d T i m m s , C e d r i c W a t t s . I a m v e r y g r a t e f u l t o the H u m a n i t i e s R e s e a r c h B o a r d o f the B r i t i s h A c a d e m y f o r the g r a n t w h i c h m a d e the t i m e t o w r i t e s o m e o f t h i s b o o k . F o r p e r m i s s i o n t o r e p r i n t c o p y r i g h t m a t e r i a l , the a u t h o r a n d p u b l i s h e r s g r a t e f u l l y a c k n o w l e d g e as f o l l o w s : F o r The Complete

Letters

ofSigmund

Freud to Wilhelm

Fliess,

i88y-

1904, t r a n s l a t e d b y J M M a s s o n , c o p y r i g h t 1985 t o J M M a s s o n a n d S i g m u n d F r e u d C o p y r i g h t L t d , reprinted by permission of H a r v a r d U n i v e r s i t y Press; f o r Collected

Poems,

C P C a v a f y , (1990) t o C h a t t o

&C W i n d u s o n b e h a l f o f C P C a v a f y ; f o r Thomas 1918-1939,

Ed R &

Mann:

Diaries

C W i n s t o n , (1983) t o A n d r e D e u t s c h L t d ; f o r

' O u r S h a d o w s ' b y A l a n B r a y n e i n Take Any

Train

e d . Peter D a n i e l s

(1991) t o Peter D a n i e l s , T h e O s c a r s Press; f o r ' T h e S e c o n d C o m i n g ' a n d ' S u p e r n a t u r a l S o n g s , V I I I ' f r o m The

Collected

Poems

ofW.

B.

Yeats (1971) t o A P W a t t L t d o n b e h a l f o f M i c h a e l Y e a t s ; f o r ' D e a t h i n V e n i c e ' f r o m Selected

Stories

Seeker & W a r b u r g ; f o r Letters

b y T h o m a s M a n n (1988) t o M a r t i n 1889—1955

b y T h o m a s M a n n (1970)

t o M a r t i n Seeker & W a r b u r g ; f o r e x t r a c t s f r o m " O n S e x u a l i t y " f r o m

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S

" O n the U n i v e r s a l T e n d e n c y " , " O n M e t a p s y c h o l o g y " , " B e y o n d the P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e " , " W h y W a r ? " , " C i v i l i s a t i o n a n d its D i s c o n t e n t s " , a n d " C i v i l i s a t i o n , S o c i e t y a n d R e l i g i o n " f r o m The Standard of the

Complete

Works

of Sigmund

Freud

Edition

translated and edited

b y J a m e s S t r a c h e y t o S i g m u n d F r e u d C o p y r i g h t s , T h e Institute o f P s y c h o a n a l y s i s a n d T h e H o g a r t h Press; f o r ' B u r n t N o r t o n ' , i n T o u r Q u a r t e t s ' , Collected

Poems 1909-1962

a n d F a b e r ; f o r ' L u l l a b y ' i n Collected

b y T . S. E l i o t (1944) t o F a b e r Poems b y W . H . A u d e n (1944)

to Faber a n d Faber. E v e r y effort has been m a d e t o c o n t a c t o r trace c o p y r i g h t h o l d e r s . T h e p u b l i s h e r s w o u l d be g r a t e f u l t o be n o t i f i e d o f a n y a d d i t i o n s t h a t s h o u l d be i n c o r p o r a t e d i n the n e x t e d i t i o n o f this v o l u m e .

Introduction

H u g o , the p r o t a g o n i s t o f O s c a r M o o r e ' s 1991 n o v e l A Matter

of

Life

and Sex, i n i t i a l l y p r o m i s e s t o be the h o r n y a d o l e s c e n t so d e s i r a b l e i n m o d e r n c u l t u r e : k n o w i n g a n d s t r e e t w i s e , yet i n n o c e n t l y n a r c i s s i s t i c t o o — the 'sassy street u r c h i n w h o k n e w w h a t he w a n t e d a n d w a n t e d it n o w ' ; the ' f l o u t i n g , flaunting r u d e b o y ' w h o d o e s n ' t c o m e i n t o tissues, p r e f e r r i n g i n s t e a d ' t o see his s p e r m fly'. F u l l o f l i f e , a n d the m o r e so f o r b e i n g w i l d l y d i s s i d e n t . B u t i n t h i s n a r r a t i v e he is a l s o the b o y w h o c o u r t s d e a t h t h r o u g h sex a n d w h o dies o f A I D S . E v e n t u a l l y , i n the m i d s t o f a n a r c h i c s e x u a l y e a r n i n g i n a P a r i s b a t h h o u s e , d e a t h is e n t e r t a i n e d w i t h a strange c a l m a m i d the desperate u r g e n c y o f it a l l . ' W i t h sex c h o k i n g h i s t h r o a t a n d t h u m p i n g a g a i n s t his chest', H u g o throws himself into the clinch of sex w i t h the smile of one preparing his last fix. There, i n the stream of sweat and hallucination of a m y l . . . as the man's penis swelled and loomed . . . and H u g o ' s m o u t h and eyes drooled i n one gasping hunger, a quiet voice whispered - this c o u l d be the boy that kills y o u . A n d a quiet voice answered back - so then, this is the way to die. (pp. 29, 39, 116, 49,

C o m p a r e t h a t w i t h a r e v i e w e r o f J a m e s M i l l e r ' s c o n t r o v e r s i a l 1993 b i o g r a p h y o f M i c h e l F o u c a u l t , w h o m s o m e r e g a r d as the m o s t s i g n i f i c a n t p h i l o s o p h e r o f the late t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y : In the autumn of 1983, after he had already collapsed and less than a year before his o w n death, [Foucault] could still be found i n the baths and bars. H e laughed at talk of 'safe-sex' and reportedly said [to D . A . M i l l e r ] 'to die for the love of boys: what could be more beautiful?' (Lilla, p. 4)

ix

I N T R O D U C T I O N

M i l l e r takes t h i s as evidence o f F o u c a u l t ' s a t t r a c t i o n t o d e a t h - s u i c i d e e s p e c i a l l y - a n d r e m i n d s us t h a t , i n F o u c a u l t ' s i m m e n s e l y i n f l u e n t i a l History

of Sexuality,

the p h i l o s o p h e r speaks o f 'the i n d i v i d u a l d r i v e n ,

i n spite o f h i m s e l f , b y the s o m b r e m a d n e s s o f sex' (History,

I.39). F o r

his p a r t , the r e v i e w e r r e m a r k s s o l e m n l y t h a t F o u c a u l t ' r e m a i n e d a g l u t t o n f o r s e x u a l d a n g e r a n d excess' (p. 4). T o d i e f o r the l o v e o f b o y s is o n e t h i n g . B u t w h a t a b o u t k i l l i n g t h e m ? I n 1983 a r u m o u r w a s c i r c u l a t i n g a l l e g i n g t h a t F o u c a u l t , i n J a m e s M i l l e r ' s w o r d s , ' k n o w i n g he w a s d y i n g o f A I D S . . . d e l i b e r a t e l y t r i e d t o infect o t h e r p e o p l e w i t h the disease' (p. 375). T h e s u p p o s e d l i n k b e t w e e n h o m o s e x u a l i t y a n d d e a t h is o f t e n i m a g i n e d t o i n c l u d e b o t h i m p u l s e s : the s u i c i d a l a n d the m u r d e r o u s . T h i s t o o has a p a r a l l e l i n M o o r e ' s n o v e l , w h e r e , s o m e o n e h u n d r e d pages o n , w e r e a d o f 2

the s a m e o r a n o t h e r P a r i s i a n b a t h h o u s e i n w h i c h H u g o ' f u c k e d a m a n i n the b a c k r o o m . . . a n d released jets o f p o i s o n e d s p u n k i n t o h i s b o w e l s ' (p. 255). M o o r e ' s is a n o v e l i n w h i c h sex a n d d e a t h , desire a n d disease, w e l d together i n l u r i d d e a t h b e d d r e a m s w h i c h h a v e s i g n i f i c a n t c u l t u r a l precedents; they i n v o k e , f o r i n s t a n c e , the m e d i e v a l o r J a c o b e a n obsess i o n w i t h d e a t h as s o m e h o w the m o t o r o f life: In this light people changed all the time. One moment they were pristine youth, the next a skull peered through the dark and cavities replaced the eyes. (p. 137) J a c o b e a n t o o is the w a y i n w h i c h age is r e a d b a c k i n t o y o u t h ; f u t u r e d e a t h , a n d the d e c l i n e t h a t leads i n e l u c t a b l y t o i t , is v i v i d l y i m a g e d as the t r u t h o f the here a n d n o w : T h e dark was never dark enough i n the bathhouse. Light played tricks, switching the pretty boy of one minute into a skeleton the next, the lissom youth suddenly chomping toothlessly on his dick, a body muscled and rippling in the spotlight that sagged and collapsed i n the harsher light of the showers . . . H e didn't k n o w anymore whether he was standing or lying, whether this was sex or death, (p. 304) A Matter

3

of Life and Sex is e m p h a t i c a l l y n o t a text f r o m the p u n i t i v e

m o r a l r i g h t i n w h i c h A I D S is a p u n i s h m e n t f o r p r o m i s c u i t y , the w a g e s o f s i n . H u g o lives a n d dies a c c o r d i n g t o the creed o f a guiltless a n d x

I N T R O D U C T I O N

e v e n b l a m e l e s s f a t a l i s m ; even at his m o s t c o m p u l s i v e a n d d r i v e n he seems t o refuse a l l the o l d m o r a l i z i n g m y s t i f i c a t i o n s . S i m p l y , 'sex has b e e n h i s m a k i n g a n d h i s u n d o i n g ' , s o m e t h i n g he r e g a r d e d as at o n c e a d d i c t i v e a n d a b s u r d a n d w h i c h , i n d u l g e d , k i l l s h i m as s u r e l y as w o u l d a b s t i n e n c e (p. 145). B u t i f H u g o r e m a i n s m o s t l y free o f g u i l t , r e m o r s e , r e p r o a c h , o r the desire f o r r e d e m p t i o n — a l l a t t i t u d e s o f e a r l i e r t i m e s , a n d r e t u r n i n g i n o u r o w n - it is the m o r e s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t m u c h o f the past is e c h o e d i n t h i s f a t a l i s t i c b i n d i n g t o g e t h e r o f sex a n d d e a t h . F r o m the o u t s e t , H u g o ' s fate (death) seems t o be l a t e n t i n h i s desire. A I D S is n o t so m u c h a p u n i s h m e n t f o r p r o m i s c u i t y - the w a g e s o f s i n - as a b r u t a l m a t e r i a l p r o o f o f s o m e t h i n g k n o w n b u t never q u i t e c o m p r e h e n d e d , namely that death inhabits sexuality: perversely, lethally, ecstatically. A n d t h i s has l e d s o m e t o r e g a r d the v i s i o n o f t h i s n o v e l as a l m o s t as offensive as the h o m o p h o b i a o f the m o r a l r i g h t , just as o t h e r s h a v e denounced

Miller's

biography

of

Foucault.

4

Yet

Oscar

Moore

r e m a i n e d u n r e p e n t a n t ; i n o n e o f the last pieces he w r o t e b e f o r e he d i e d o f A I D S - r e l a t e d illnesses at the age o f t h i r t y - s i x i n S e p t e m b e r 1996, he r e i t e r a t e d the v i e w w h i c h seems t o h a v e i n s p i r e d h i s n o v e l : 'sex a n d s e x u a l k n o w l e d g e h a v e a l w a y s been i n e x t r i c a b l y b o u n d i n an embrace w i t h death' ('Rites', p.

16).

5

M o o r e d r a w s o n a death/desire c o n n e c t i o n w h i c h p e r h a p s f o u n d its m o s t e x t r e m e statement i n the R e n a i s s a n c e , b u t w h i c h is e n d e m i c t o W e s t e r n c u l t u r e m o r e g e n e r a l l y a n d , i n recent t i m e s , has b e e n r e v i v e d i n relation to male homosexuality. In certain hostile representations of A I D S , h o m o s e x u a l i t y a n d death have been made to i m p l y each other: h o m o s e x u a l i t y is seen as d e a t h - d r i v e n , d e a t h - d e s i r i n g a n d t h e r e b y d e a t h - d e a l i n g . A s M o o r e ' s n o v e l m a k e s c l e a r , c o n t e s t i n g these n e g a 6

t i v e r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s ( h o m o s e x u a l i t y = p a t h o l o g y = death) c o u l d n e v e r be just a q u e s t i o n o f s u b s t i t u t i n g p o s i t i v e ones ( h o m o s e x u a l i t y

=

h e a l t h = l i f e ) . M a l e h o m o s e x u a l desire has b e e n r e g a r d e d i n d i v e r s e w a y s b y gay p e o p l e t h e m s e l v e s — as d e a t h - d r i v e n , as r e v o l u t i o n a r y , as b e n i g n , as r e d e m p t i v e , as s e l f - s h a t t e r i n g , as i m p o s s i b l e o f f u l f i l m e n t , t o n a m e b u t s o m e . S e v e r a l o f these w a y s o f t h i n k i n g a b o u t i t c l e a r l y d i s t u r b t h o s e s t r i v i n g t o e s t a b l i s h a n a f f i r m a t i v e gay i d e n t i t y p o l i t i c s . A n d n o t s u r p r i s i n g l y : o n the o n e h a n d , t h i s c o n n e c t i o n o f h o m o s e x u a l desire a n d d e a t h has b e e n m a d e b y t h o s e w h o w a n t xi

homosexuals

I N T R O D U C T I O N

l i t e r a l l y t o d i e ; o n the o t h e r , it is a l s o p a r t o f h o m o s e x u a l h i s t o r y , as it is p a r t o f a m o r e g e n e r a l c u l t u r a l h i s t o r y . B u t w i t h a difference: the s e x u a l l y d i s s i d e n t h a v e s o m e t i m e s k n o w n m o r e a b o u t this c o n n e c t i o n , c o n f r o n t i n g a n d e x p l o r i n g w h a t the s e x u a l l y c o n v e n t i o n a l m a y share yet d i s a v o w . I n p a r t i c u l a r , the s e x u a l l y d i s s i d e n t h a v e k n o w n t h a t the strange d y n a m i c w h i c h , i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e , b i n d s d e a t h i n t o desire is n o t the p r o d u c t o f a m a r g i n a l p a t h o l o g i c a l i m a g i n a t i o n , b u t c r u c i a l i n the f o r m a t i o n o f t h a t c u l t u r e . T h a t is o n e a r g u m e n t o f t h i s b o o k .

Loss and desire T h a t there are c o n n e c t i o n s b e t w e e n d e a t h a n d desire is a c o m m o n p l a c e , b u t a p e r p l e x i n g o n e ; after a l l , desire is o n the side o f life, life is o p p o s e d to d e a t h , therefore desire also m u s t be o p p o s e d t o d e a t h . T h o m G u n n writes: M y thoughts are crowded w i t h death and it draws so oddly on the sexual that I am confused confused to be attracted by, in effect, my o w n annihilation. ('In T i m e of Plague') G u n n is r i g h t : a l t h o u g h m a n i f e s t a n d p e r v a s i v e i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e , e s p e c i a l l y its a r t , t h i s a g e - o l d c o n n e c t i o n o f d e a t h a n d s e x u a l i t y does b e c o m e c o n f u s i n g w h e n w e stop to t h i n k a b o u t i t . M o s t l y w e d o n ' t t h i n k a b o u t it — e s p e c i a l l y w h e n w e t h i n k w e k n o w a b o u t it. W h a t this suggests is t h a t here the c o m m o n p l a c e w o r k s as a k i n d o f d i s a v o w a l , a l l o w i n g us to see a n d n o t see at the same t i m e . W e r e c o g n i z e a n d 7

register the sex/death c o n n e c t i o n , b u t i n a w a y w h i c h p r e c i s e l y a l l o w s us n o t to 'see' it. B y a c k n o w l e d g i n g a n ' o b v i o u s ' c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n desire a n d d e a t h , the c o m m o n p l a c e e n c o u r a g e s us to f o r g o t h o u g h t a b o u t i t . S o m e t h i n g s r e m a i n u n k n o w n n o t because they are o c c l u d e d o r u n s p o k e n , b u t because they c i r c u l a t e c o n s t a n t l y a n d v i s i b l y as c o m m o n p l a c e s . A s I w r i t e , a r a d i o arts p r o g r a m m e p r e v i e w s a n e w p r o d u c t i o n o f J o h n W e b s t e r ' s The

White

Devil

(1612). W e are t o l d

t h a t the c o m m o n p l a c e t h e m e o f this a n d o t h e r J a c o b e a n xii

tragedies,

I N T R O D U C T I O N

n a m e l y the c o n n e c t i o n o f sex a n d d e a t h , has r e n e w e d r e l e v a n c e i n o u r o w n A I D S - i n f l i c t e d age. T h e u r b a n e c h a t t e r o f the c u l t u r e j o u r n a l i s t q u i e t l y k e e p s at b a y the q u e s t i o n s t h a t f o r m : W h y w e r e the J a c o b e a n s o b s e s s e d w i t h t h i s c o n n e c t i o n ? Does A I D S r e a l l y m a k e it a r e n e w e d o b s e s s i o n f o r u s , a n d i f so h o w ? F o r the J a c o b e a n s , as f o r us, w h a t c o n n e c t s d e a t h w i t h desire is m u t a b i l i t y - the sense t h a t a l l b e i n g is g o v e r n e d b y a ceaseless p r o c e s s o f c h a n g e i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m an inconsolable always

in excess of the loss of anything

sense of loss

in particular.

somehow

W . B. Yeats put

it s u c c i n c t l y e n o u g h : ' M a n is i n l o v e a n d loves w h a t v a n i s h e s , / W h a t m o r e is there t o say? ( ' N i n e t e e n H u n d r e d a n d N i n e t e e n ' ) . T h e 5

e x p e r i e n c e o f c h a n g e a n d loss exerts a n i n c a l c u l a b l e i n f l u e n c e o n the development of our culture. Western metaphysics and Western religion d e r i v e f r o m t h a t e x p e r i e n c e , e s p e c i a l l y as it l e d t o r e p e a t e d a t t e m p t s t o d i s t i n g u i s h b e t w e e n a p p e a r a n c e a n d r e a l i t y . B r o a d l y s p e a k i n g , the w o r l d w e e x p e r i e n c e w a s s a i d t o be the w o r l d o f a p p e a r a n c e s , the d o m a i n o f u n r e a l i t y , d e c e p t i o n , l o s s , t r a n s i e n c e a n d d e a t h - t o be c o n t r a s t e d w i t h a n u l t i m a t e , changeless r e a l i t y w h i c h w a s either deeper w i t h i n o r e n t i r e l y b e y o n d the w o r l d o f a p p e a r a n c e . T h i s i m m a n e n t o r t r a n s c e n d e n t r e a l i t y w a s a l s o s a i d t o be the s o u r c e o f a b s o l u t e , as d i s t i n c t f r o m r e l a t i v e , t r u t h , a n d e v e n o f e t e r n a l life. S o m e o f the greatest l i t e r a t u r e i n the W e s t derives f r o m the t e n s i o n b e t w e e n the desire f o r t h a t u l t i m a t e r e a l i t y t o e x i s t , a n d t h e r e b y r e d e e m l o s s , a n d the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t , i n r e a l i t y , it does n o t . T y p i c a l l y , the p r o c e s s o f c h a n g e a n d d e c l i n e in time is m o r e d i s t u r b i n g t h a n the i d e a o f n o t b e i n g at a l l ; as S i r W a l t e r R a l e g h p u t it s o m e 4 0 0 years a g o , u n d e r the s w a y o f t i m e ' a l l is d i s s o l v e d , o u r labours c o m e to nought'; m u t a b i l i t y destroys not o n l y l i v i n g things, but all h u m a n endeavour: all droops, all dies, all trodden under dust; the person, place, and passages forgotten; the hardest steel eaten w i t h softest rust, the firm and solid tree both rent and rotten . . . ('The Ocean to Scinthia', 11. 235, 253-6) R a l e g h here takes the o m n i s c i e n t o v e r v i e w , the l o n g , s o l i t a r y p e r s p e c t i v e a c r o s s t i m e a n d loss. O t h e r s r e a l i z e the effects o f m u t a b i l i t y xiii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

i n the fleeting, t r a n s i e n t m o m e n t ; f u t u r e l o s s , c h a n g e a n d u l t i m a t e l y d e a t h are felt as s o m e h o w a l w a y s d i s c e r n i b l e i n the here a n d n o w

-

i n the silence o f a r o o m r e c e n t l y i n h a b i t e d , o r the s o u n d o f the w i n d i n o n e n o t yet o c c u p i e d : N o w first, as I shut the door, I was alone In the new house; and the w i n d Began to moan. O l d at once was the house, A n d I was o l d ; M y ears were teased w i t h the dread O f what was foretold, Nights of storm, days of mist, without end; Sad days when the sun Shone i n vain; o l d griefs and griefs N o t yet begun . . . . . . I learned h o w the w i n d w o u l d sound After these things should be. (Edward T h o m a s , ' T h e N e w House') I n his p o e m ' L o g s o n the H e a r t h ' (1915) T h o m a s H a r d y w r i t e s n o t o f f u t u r e l o s s , b u t o f loss a l r e a d y i n c u r r e d . H e recalls a c h i l d h o o d m o m e n t w h e n he a n d his sister w e r e c l i m b i n g a tree. She is n o w d e a d , the tree has b e e n f e l l e d , a n d the p o e t is w a t c h i n g a l o g f r o m it b u r n i n g i n the grate: T h e fire advances along the log O f the tree we felled, W h i c h bloomed and bore striped apples by the peck T i l l its last hour of bearing knelled. T h e fork that first my hand w o u l d reach A n d then my foot In c l i m b i n g u p w a r d inch by inch, lies n o w Sawn, sapless, darkening w i t h soot.

xiv

I N T R O D U C T I O N

Where the bark chars is where, one year, It was pruned, and bled T h e n overgrew the w o u n d . But n o w , at last, Its growings all have stagnated. M y fellow-climber rises d i m F r o m her chilly grave Just as she was, her foot near mine o n the bending l i m b , L a u g h i n g , her young b r o w n hand awave. B e i n g u n s e l f c o n s c i o u s l y a l i v e is c o n v e y e d i n a p r e c i s e i m a g e o f s o m e t h i n g o r d i n a r y : the m o v e m e n t o f ' c l i m b i n g u p w a r d i n c h b y i n c h ' . T h e f o r k ' t h a t first m y h a n d w o u l d r e a c h / A n d t h e n m y f o o t ' ( a n d t h i s w a s a tree c l i m b e d m a n y times) is r e a l l y seen o n l y n o w ; o r r a t h e r , seeing i t a g a i n i n the grate - ' S a w n , sapless, d a r k e n i n g w i t h s o o t ' - is t o r e m e m b e r the f a m i l i a r feel o f i t , w h i l e seeing it f o r the first t i m e i n the f u l l e r , b u t n e v e r c o m p l e t e , p e r s p e c t i v e o f t i m e . T h e sense o f loss is m o s t i n t e n s e i n the v i s u a l d e t a i l ( ' W h e r e the b a r k c h a r s ' ) , a n d i n the l o n g e r h i s t o r y w h i c h the d e t a i l e v o k e s : the b a r k w a s p r u n e d , b l e d , r e c o v e r e d , b e c a m e the s t r o n g e r f o r i t , o n l y then t o d i e . H a r d y ' s sister is r e c a l l e d i n a m o m e n t o f u n s e l f c o n s c i o u s h a p p i n e s s n o w f r o z e n f o r ever i n the h a u n t i n g i m m o b i l i t y o f the p h o t o g r a p h i c i m a g e : ' J u s t as she w a s , h e r f o o t n e a r m i n e o n the b e n d i n g l i m b , / L a u g h i n g , h e r y o u n g b r o w n h a n d a w a v e . ' W e grieve because s o m e o n e l o v e d is l o s t f o r ever. B u t there is a n o t h e r aspect t o the e x p e r i e n c i n g o f a loss w h i c h is i n c o n s o l a b l e a n d s o m e h o w i n excess o f a n y specific grief: i m a g e s l i k e t h o s e i n H a r d y ' s p o e m register a h a p p i n e s s s o m e h o w o n l y k n o w n i n r e t r o s p e c t , w h e n it is i r r e t r i e v a b l e . H a p p i n e s s is s o m e h o w n e v e r f u l l y k n o w a b l e i n the f l u x o f t i m e : then it w a s e x p e r i e n c e d as i n c o n s e q u e n t i a l , now

as i r r e v o c a b l y g o n e . H a p p i n e s s is a l w a y s i n a p a s t

w h e r e it n e v e r q u i t e e x i s t e d at the t i m e . If, i n the t r a d i t i o n o f carpe

diem

('seize the d a y ' ) , k n o w l e d g e o f

m u t a b i l i t y a n d loss tends t o i n t e n s i f y r a t h e r t h a n d i m i n i s h the e x i s t e n t i a l v a l u e o f the t r a n s i e n t m o m e n t , it is a l s o t r u e t h a t a n easy, u n q u a l i fied c e l e b r a t i o n o f t h a t m o m e n t is r a r e ; m a n y p o e m s i n the carpe

diem

t r a d i t i o n register n o t just the desire t o c a p t u r e the m o m e n t , b u t the e x i s t e n t i a l d i f f i c u l t y o f d o i n g so. W e n e e d t o s t o p , a n d yet w e c a n n o t . I n o n e o f the m o s t f a m o u s o f a l l carpe

XV

diem

poems, ' T o H i s C o y

I N T R O D U C T I O N

M i s t r e s s ' , A n d r e w M a r v e l l ( 1 6 2 1 - 7 8 ) describes b e i n g c h a s e d b y t i m e towards oblivion: But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; A n d yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. T h e v e r y p a s s i n g o f t i m e , w h i c h m a k e s us so k e e n t o seize the d a y , is a l s o w h a t s o m e h o w prevents us d o i n g so; the d a y slips i n e l u c t a b l y through our hands. S u c h verse is r a r e l y i f ever a b o u t s i m p l y s e i z i n g the d a y ; it is a l s o a b o u t h o w t i m e a n d c h a n g e , d r i v i n g us t o w a r d s a h o r i z o n o f o b l i v i o n , m a k e it h a r d t o seize a n y t h i n g , let a l o n e the d a y , w h i c h , after a l l , is itself a measure of time. A n d if we d o manage to halt time imaginatively, 8

i s o l a t i n g the m o m e n t , it is o f t e n t h e n o n l y to e n c o u n t e r w i t h i n it the h a u n t i n g stillness o f n o n - b e i n g . T h e s o - c a l l e d spots o f t i m e i n W o r d s w o r t h ' s Prelude

c o m e t o m i n d , o r t h i s , f r o m T . S. E l i o t ' s Four

Quartets: Sudden in a shaft of sunlight Even while the dust moves There rises the hidden laughter O f children in the foliage Q u i c k n o w , here, now, always Ridiculous the waste sad time Stretching before and after, (p. 20) T h i s i n a b i l i t y t o seize the d a y is m o r e f u n d a m e n t a l l y a n i n a b i l i t y to realize o u r desires i n a w o r l d g o v e r n e d a n d d e s t r o y e d by t i m e , a n d it p o i n t s to a f u r t h e r , even m o r e d i s t u r b i n g a n d p a r a d o x i c a l , d i m e n s i o n o f desire itself. M u t a b i l i t y is the stuff o f life; w i t h o u t i t , life l i t e r a l l y w o u l d n o t be p o s s i b l e . If, w i t h r e g a r d t o the n a t u r a l w o r l d , this t r u t h is accepted w i t h a w i s e - s a d e q u a n i m i t y , i n r e l a t i o n to h u m a n life it is m o r e u s u a l l y r e g a r d e d as t r a u m a t i c , a n d i n r e l a t i o n to h u m a n desire as a n i n t o l e r a b l e c o n t r a d i c t i o n . H e r e is o n e o f the m o s t s i g n i f i c a n t factors o f a l l i n the c o n n e c t i o n o f desire a n d d e a t h . O n the o n e h a n d , m u t a b i l i t y is the i n e l u c t a b l e e n e m y o f desire because it ceaselessly t h w a r t s it: ' M a n is i n l o v e a n d xvi

INTRODUCTION

loves w h a t vanishes.' In another p o e m , ' T h e D e f i n i t i o n o f L o v e ' , M a r v e l l d e s c r i b e s a l o v e s u b j e c t e d t o t i m e a n d c h a n g e as ' b e g o t t e n b y D e s p a i r / U p o n I m p o s s i b i l i t y ' . O n the o t h e r h a n d , m o v e m e n t , m o t i o n , c h a n g e , i n c o n s t a n c y are the v e r y stuff n o t just o f life b u t a l s o o f d e s i r e ; t h a t is t o say, m u t a b i l i t y i s a l s o t h e i n n e r d y n a m i c o f d e s i r e . A s T . S. E l i o t p u t i t , ' D e s i r e i t s e l f is m o v e m e n t / N o t i n i t s e l f d e s i r a b l e ' (p. 2 0 ) ; or,

i n the w o r d s o f S h e l l e y , desire is ' t h a t u n r e s t w h i c h m e n m i s c a l l

delight' ( A d o n a i s ,

X L ) . I n o t h e r w o r d s , m u t a b i l i t y a n i m a t e s desire

e v e n as it t h w a r t s i t . P u t s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t l y , the v e r y n a t u r e o f desire is w h a t p r e v e n t s its f u l f i l m e n t , w h a t m a k e s it ' i m p o s s i b l e ' . I shall argue that this c o n t r a d i c t i o n becomes p r o f o u n d l y i m p o r t a n t i n the f o r m a t i o n o f i d e n t i t y a n d g e n d e r i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e , n o t least i n the w a y i t r e n d e r s desire s e e m i n g l y i m p o s s i b l e , o r at least f u t i l e and

s e l f - d e f e a t i n g . It is a n o v e r r i d i n g r e a s o n w h y the l a c k w h i c h i s

desire c o m e s t o be r e g a r d e d as i n h e r e n t l y i n c a p a b l e o f s a t i s f a c t i o n and

l i n k e d t o d e a t h . T h u s a p p a r e n t l y a l w a y s d e f e a t i n g itself, desire

c o m e s t o seem d e s t r u c t i v e l y i n s a t i a b l e , a p e r m a n e n t l a c k

whose

a t t e m p t e d f u l f i l m e n t is at o n c e the d e s t i n y o f the self a n d w h a t d e s t r o y s it, l e a d i n g the p o e t t o c r y , i n S h a k e s p e a r e ' s S o n n e t 147, 'I desperate now

a p p r o v e / D e s i r e is d e a t h ' .

9

T h o s e l i n e s o f E l i o t ' s just q u o t e d p e r f e c t l y c o n j o i n the a m b i v a l e n t a t t i t u d e s i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e t o w a r d s b o t h desire a n d m o v e m e n t : desire as u n d e s i r a b l e m o v e m e n t . I l l i c i t desire is e s p e c i a l l y p r o n e t o b e i n g c o n c e p t u a l i z e d as a b e r r a n t m o v e m e n t . F o r e x a m p l e , the i d e a o f d e v i a t i o n - i t s e l f the c o n c e p t u a l h e a r t o f the i d e a o f p e r v e r s i o n - is a b o u t a m o v e m e n t w h i c h is d a n g e r o u s o r s u b v e r s i v e : t o d e v i a t e = t o go a s t r a y . C o n v e r s e l y , the g o o d , the safe a n d the t r u e are a b o u t n o t d e v i a t i n g ( s t i c k i n g t o the s t r a i g h t a n d n a r r o w ) , w h i l e r e l a t e d v i r t u e s like order, stability and h a r m o n y presuppose restricted, limited or c o n t r o l l e d m o v e m e n t , o f t e n e c h o i n g the u l t i m a t e m e t a p h y s i c a l i d e a l of

fixity,

p r e d e t e r m i n a t i o n o r stasis: the fixed o r i g i n , fixed d e s t i n y ,

fixed i d e n t i t y , a n d so o n . A n d yet, as w e s h a l l see, even as it i d e a l i z e s the p r e d e t e r m i n e d a n d the s t a t i c , n o c u l t u r e has a m o r e s i g n i f i c a n t h i s t o r y o f o b s e s s i v e , e x p a n s i v e , restless m o v e m e n t .

xvii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

The death of man? I e x p l o r e the h i s t o r y o f this m o v e m e n t i n a w a y w h i c h leads t o a q u e s t i o n i n g o f s o m e o f the e m e r g i n g o r t h o d o x i e s o f c o n t e m p o r a r y t h o u g h t , e s p e c i a l l y i n r e l a t i o n t o the s o - c a l l e d ' d e a t h ' o f m a n . B r i e f l y , this is the a r g u m e n t t h a t there has o c c u r r e d , r e l a t i v e l y r e c e n t l y a n d s o m e w h a t m o m e n t o u s l y , the c o l l a p s e o f a W e s t e r n h u m a n i s t i d e o l o g y o f i n d i v i d u a l i s m . W h e r e a s o n c e the W e s t e r n e x p a n s i o n i s t p r o j e c t (for e x a m p l e i n the spheres o f r e l i g i o u s d o m i n a t i o n , c u l t u r a l i m p e r i a l i s m , c o l o n i z a t i o n o r the f o r m a t i o n o f e m p i r e ) w a s u n d e r p i n n e d b y a p o w e r f u l a n d c o n f i d e n t sense o f i n d i v i d u a l s e l f h o o d , i n o u r o w n t i m e - a n d c o r r e s p o n d i n g to the crisis i f n o t the c o l l a p s e o f t h a t e x p a n s i o n i s t e r a - w e h a v e w i t nessed the d e a t h o f this i n d i v i d u a l a n d ' h i s ' u n i v e r s a l c o u n t e r p a r t , ' m a n ' . F o r several decades n o w , i f n o t l o n g e r , the h u m a n i t i e s h a v e been d o m i n a t e d b y this c l a i m . B u t , as w e s h a l l see, i n the W e s t e r n t r a d i t i o n the i n d i v i d u a l has a l w a y s been i n c r i s i s , e n e r g i z e d a n d d r i v e n f o r w a r d b y the same forces o f m u t a b i l i t y a n d d e a t h w h i c h d e s t a b i l i z e a n d f r a g m e n t . T h a t passage f r o m M a r v e l l ' s p o e m c i t e d e a r l i e r is i n t e r e s t i n g i n this c o n t e x t t o o , d e s c r i b i n g as it does b e i n g d r i v e n f r o m b e h i n d b y t i m e i n t o a f u t u r e o f n o n - b e i n g , the deserts o f a vast e t e r n i t y . A n d those l i k e J o h n D o n n e ( b e l o w , C h a p t e r 5) find it easy t o m a k e the perverse i m a g i n a t i v e l e a p w h e r e b y the r e a l m a t e r i a l energies o f the u n i v e r s e s e e m i n g l y reside n o t i n the generative life-force b u t i n the d i s i n t e g r a t i v e p o t e n c y o f d e a t h . E v e n m o r e p e r v e r s e l y , the d i s i n t e g r a t ive p o w e r o f d e a t h is f o u n d at the h e a r t o f g e n e r a t i o n . A n d t i m e a n d a g a i n this m o s t p e s s i m i s t i c o f v i s i o n s , even as i t r e n o u n c e d the w o r l d , r e m a i n e d a n i n d i s p e n s a b l e c o m p o n e n t o f a c u l t u r e o f ceaseless a c t i v i t y w h o s e ' a g e n t ' w a s , p r e c i s e l y , the i n d i v i d u a l i n c r i s i s . M u c h o f this is h a l f - s a n c t i o n e d i n the m o s t r e v e r e d o f a l l W e s t e r n aesthetic genres, t r a g e d y , as it rehearses o n e o f the m o r e e n d u r i n g p a r a d o x e s a n i m a t i n g the energies w h i c h h a v e ' m a d e ' W e s t e r n c u l t u r e : even as w e are d r i v e n f o r w a r d b y a secular fear o f f a i l u r e , w e r e s o r t t o the m e t a p h y s i c a l reassurance t h a t s u c h f a i l u r e is u l t i m a t e l y i n e v i t a b l e . A n d i f that reassurance sometimes invites r e n u n c i a t i o n a n d w i t h d r a w a l , i t r a t h e r m o r e o f t e n r e d o u b l e s the s e c u l a r effort b y i m p a r t i n g t o it a f a t a l i s t i c ' l i f t ' . A f t e r a l l , E n o c h P o w e l l ' s f a m o u s o b s e r v a t i o n xviii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

t h a t ' A l l p o l i t i c a l lives . . . e n d i n f a i l u r e because t h a t is the n a t u r e o f p o l i t i c s a n d o f h u m a n a f f a i r s ' (p. 151) m a y w e l l h a v e b e c o m e a t r u i s m , b u t i t does n o t deter p o l i t i c i a n s , w h o s e a c t i o n s o f t e n i m p l y s y m p a t h y w i t h M a c b e t h ' s reflection o n his o w n increasingly m u r d e r o u s a n d s e l f - d e f e a t i n g a t t e m p t t o h a n g o n t o p o w e r : 'I a m i n b l o o d / S t e p p ' d i n so f a r , t h a t , s h o u l d I w a d e n o m o r e , / R e t u r n i n g w e r e as t e d i o u s as go o ' e r ' ( I I I . i v . 1 3 5 - 7 ) . A t r u i s m o f the m o d e r n w o r l d it m a y be, b u t it t o o k a c l a s s i c a l s c h o l a r t o c o m e u p w i t h i t . T h e ' c r i s i s ' o f the i n d i v i d u a l is less a c r i s i s t h a n a r e c u r r i n g i n s t a b i l i t y d e r i v i n g f r o m the t h e o l o g i c a l o b s e s s i o n w i t h d e a t h , loss a n d f a i l u r e . A n d it d o e s n o t set i n o n l y at the p o i n t w h e n the e x p a n s i o n i s t tendencies o f W e s t e r n c u l t u r e f a l t e r ; o n the c o n t r a r y , it has a l w a y s b e e n a n i n t e g r a l , f a c i l i t a t i n g aspect o f those t e n d e n c i e s . L i k e the e x p a n s i o n i s t p r o j e c t , i f less o b v i o u s l y , t h a t c r i s i s a n d the t h e o l o g y f r o m w h i c h it d e r i v e s b o t h h a v e a h i s t o r y a n d h a v e m a d e h i s t o r y , e s p e c i a l l y at the p o i n t w h e r e they intersect as the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t d e a t h a n d loss s i m u l t a n e o u s l y d r i v e a n d f r u s t r a t e desire. W h i l e i t w o u l d be w r o n g t o r e g a r d t h i s c o n v i c t i o n as u n i q u e t o W e s t e r n c u l t u r e - B u d d h i s m , after a l l , r e g a r d s desire o r c r a v i n g as the s o u r c e o f a l l s u f f e r i n g - the f o r m s i t has t a k e n i n the W e s t h a v e been d i s t i n c t i v e . I h a v e i n m i n d e s p e c i a l l y t h o s e i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d aesthetic d e v e l o p m e n t s across the last t w o m i l l e n n i a w h i c h h a v e d r i v e n d e a t h ever f u r t h e r i n t o desire - f r o m the C h r i s t i a n b e l i e f t h a t m a n , t h r o u g h transgressive d e s i r e , b r o u g h t d e a t h i n t o the w o r l d , w i t h the c o n s e q u e n c e t h a t h e n c e f o r t h i t w o u l d h a u n t d e s i r e as the s o u r c e o f a l l s u f f e r i n g (e.g. R o m a n s 5:12, 6:23), t o the p s y c h o a n a l y t i c t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e , w h e r e b y , as F r e u d p u t i t , ' "the aim of all life is death"

' {Beyond the Pleasure

Principle,

p. 3 1 1 ) .

10

D e v e l o p i n g the C h r i s t i a n n a r r a t i v e i n t o o n e o f its m o r e a g o n i z e d a n d r a d i c a l theological f o r m u l a t i o n s , Augustine contended that a d e a t h - i n f e c t e d m u t a b i l i t y p e r v a d e s d e s i r e , a n d is t r a n s m i t t e d f r o m o n e g e n e r a t i o n t o the n e x t v i a s e m e n a n d the ' u n c l e a n m o t i o n ' o f the s e x u a l act ( b e l o w , C h a p t e r 3). T h i s m e a n s t h a t m u t a b i l i t y is a l s o e x p e r i e n t i a l l y ever-present as the a n a r c h y o f a desire a l w a y s p o t e n t i a l l y o u t o f c o n t r o l (even d o w n t o the u n r u l y ' m o t i o n s ' o f erection) a n d a l w a y s t h r e a t e n i n g t o u n d o the self. A n d w h e n , m u c h l a t e r , D o n n e o r a n y o n e o f a n u m b e r o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s describes m a n as a f r a g i l e being a l l the t i m e being d i s i n t e g r a t e d b y a b e r r a n t desire ('I xix

I N T R O D U C T I O N

find

m y s e l f s c a t t e r e d , m e l t e d ' , Selected

Prose,

p . 114) he is m a k i n g

m u t a b i l i t y even m o r e c e n t r a l to b o t h i n d i v i d u a l i d e n t i t y a n d desire. S u c h e a r l i e r a c c o u n t s o f desire as the r a d i c a l u n d o i n g o f the v i r t u o u s self m a y seem o f l i t t l e interest t o d a y , e s p e c i a l l y i f w e assume t h e m t o be n o less o b s o l e t e t h a n they are o b j e c t i o n a b l e . O n the o t h e r h a n d , w e m i g h t l i s t e n c l o s e l y w h e n o u r p s y c h o a n a l y s t tells us that u n c o n s c i o u s desire, p e r m a n e n t l y at o d d s w i t h the d e m a n d s o f c i v i l i z a t i o n , is w h a t w i l l a l w a y s w r e c k the ego's a t t e m p t t o forge a c o h e r e n t sense o f self. In c e r t a i n respects o n l y the t e r m i n o l o g y is d i f f e r e n t , a n d F r e u d , i n f o u n d i n g p s y c h o a n a l y s i s , c e r t a i n l y d r e w o n a t h e o l o g i c a l past. F u r t h e r , the c o n s i d e r a b l e i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d p o l i t i c a l influence o f A u g u s t i n e focuses a p a r a d o x w h i c h c a m e t o f a s c i n a t e F r e u d : even as it preaches the i n h e r e n t i n s t a b i l i t y , f u t i l i t y a n d m i s e r y o f m o r t a l e x i s t e n c e , this t h e o l o g y o f d e a t h keeps its adherents r e l u c t a n t l y f u t u r e d i r e c t e d - s a v a g e d i n t e r n a l l y b y d e a t h a n d c h a n g e , they are a l s o d r i v e n f o r w a r d b y t h e m . R e l i g i o u s l y , the desire f o r e t e r n i t y w o u l d be e x p r e s s e d i n life as a c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n the n e e d t o struggle f o r w a r d a n d the y e a r n i n g to r e t u r n , b o t h p a t h s l e a d i n g t o a d i v i n e d e a t h - t h a t peace t h a t passes a l l u n d e r s t a n d i n g . If t h e o l o g y intensifies, t h w a r t s , deflects a n d e x p l o i t s a desire f o r d e a t h , F r e u d ' s t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e ( b e l o w , C h a p t e r 14) is at o n c e a b r i l l i a n t r e w o r k i n g o f t h a t t h e o l o g y a n d a d e v a s t a t i n g c h a l l e n g e to i t .

Eroticizing

death

W e l l before F r e u d , there w e r e those w h o e n t e r t a i n e d the a t t r a c t i o n o f d e a t h a l m o s t as s c a n d a l o u s l y as he d i d . T h e y d i d n o t n e e d a t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e t o k n o w t h a t i f d e a t h b o t h d r i v e s a n d frustrates desire i t is a l s o w h a t desire m a y seek i n o r d e r to be free o f itself. A s H a m l e t f a m o u s l y m e d i t a t e d , t o d i e is a c o n s u m m a t i o n d e v o u t l y t o be w i s h e d . F r o m the earliest t i m e s , d e a t h has h e l d o u t the p r o m i s e o f a release n o t just f r o m desire b u t f r o m s o m e t h i n g i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m i t , n a m e l y the p a i n o f b e i n g i n d i v i d u a t e d (separate, d i f f e r e n t i a t e d , alone) a n d the f o r m o f self-consciousness

w h i c h goes w i t h t h a t — w h a t

p h i l o s o p h e r s l i k e S c h o p e n h a u e r c a l l the p r i n c i p l e o f i n d i v i d u a t i o n (principium

individuationis).

I n o t h e r w o r d s , d e a t h h o l d s o u t the

XX

I N T R O D U C T I O N

p r o m i s e o f a release f r o m the v e r y i n d i v i d u a l i t y w h o s e

formation

w o u l d have been u n t h i n k a b l e w i t h o u t it. I d e n t i t y is e x p e r i e n c e d a m b i v a l e n t l y , a n d the urge t o c o n s o l i d a t e it is c o m p l i c a t e d b y the w i s h t o r e l i n q u i s h i t . T h e seductiveness o f the i d e a o f t h i s d e a t h o f the self has a l w a y s b e e n a p a r t o f W e s t e r n i n d i v i d u a l i s m . A n d , w i t h t h a t energetic, perverse h u b r i s so c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f t h i s i n d i v i d u a l i s m , there w i l l be t h o s e w h o seek d e a t h n o t o n l y as the release f r o m d e s i r e , b u t a l s o as its object; f r o m the earliest times, but later increasingly, death becomes eroticized; already for H a m l e t i t w a s a ' c o n s u m m a t i o n ' . I n c o n t e x t (Hamlet

III.i.63) the w o r d

is p r e c i s e l y s i g n i f i c a n t , m e a n i n g b o t h s a t i s f y i n g c l i m a x a n d

being

c o n s u m e d o r v a n i s h i n g i n t o n o t h i n g . (It is s o m e t i m e s s a i d t h a t H a m let's p r o b l e m is t h a t he c a n n o t o r w i l l n o t act, s u f f e r i n g as he d o e s f r o m a n i n e r t i a o f the w i l l . A c t u a l l y , H a m l e t is the e p i t o m e o f the i n d i v i d u a l ' i n c r i s i s ' r a c k e d w i t h d e s i r e , obsessed w i t h d e a t h , a n d t h e r e b y d r i v e n t o act.) If d e a t h is m o s t f a m o u s l y e r o t i c i z e d b y W a g n e r i n Tristan Isolde,

and

m a n y o t h e r s h a v e d o n e it n o less m e m o r a b l y , i n c l u d i n g K e a t s

in ' O d e to a Nightingale': 3 Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget W h a t thou amongst the leaves hast never k n o w n , T h e weariness, the fever, and the fret Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies, Where but to think is to be full of sorrow A n d leaden-eyed despairs

. . . for many a time I have been half i n love w i t h easeful Death N o w more than ever seems it rich to die, T o cease upon the midnight w i t h no p a i n , W h i l e thou art p o u r i n g forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

xxi

I N T R O D U C T I O N

K e a t s ' s letter t o F a n n y B r a w n e o f 25 J u n e 1819, w r i t t e n just w e e k s after this o d e , says s o m e t h i n g s i m i l a r , a n d r a t h e r d i r e c t l y : I have two luxuries to brood over in my w a l k s , your Loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute. I hate the w o r l d : it batters too much the wings of my self-will, and w o u l d I could take a sweet poison from your lips to send me out of it. F r o m no others w o u l d I take it. {Letters, p. 271) D e s i r e , the s o u r c e o f so m u c h p a i n , a l s o h o l d s o u t the p r o m i s e o f the p l e a s u r a b l e d e a t h o f the self - o r at the very least o f w h a t I c a l l ' s e l f - d i s i d e n t i f i c a t i o n ' . A n d here w e c o n f r o n t just s o m e o f the v a r i o u s w a y s i n w h i c h the d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n l i t e r a l a n d m e t a p h o r i c d e a t h is so o b v i o u s , yet a l w a y s b e i n g c o n f u s e d : w h y does the w e a v e o f W e s t e r n aesthetic c u l t u r e o w e as m u c h t o the c o n f u s i o n , endlessly rehearsed i n ' f a n t a s y ' , as t o the d i s t i n c t i o n itself, e q u a l l y i n s i s t e n t l y rehearsed i n ' r e a l i t y ' ? If G o d a l w a y s h e l d o u t the p r o m i s e o f d e a t h - the peace t h a t passes a l l u n d e r s t a n d i n g - t h e n , as w e see i n later c h a p t e r s , w h e n h u m a n i s t s l i k e F e u e r b a c h t o o k G o d b a c k i n t o m a n they t o o k b a c k d e a t h t o o . I n f l u e n t i a l d e v e l o p m e n t s i n m o d e r n t h o u g h t i n t e r n a l i z e d e a t h as never before. T h i s is t r u e o f w r i t e r s as d i v e r s e as H e g e l , S c h o p e n h a u e r , Heidegger, F r e u d , Bataille and Kojeve, a l l of w h o m contribute to one o f the m o s t f a s c i n a t i n g p a r a d o x e s o f m o d e r n p h i l o s o p h i e s o f h u m a n i d e n t i t y : d e a t h is t a k e n i n t o c o n s c i o u s n e s s i n a w a y w h i c h is at o n c e an expansion a n d a nullification of consciousness (below, Parts I V - V ) . P e r h a p s i t has a l w a y s been the case t h a t the r a d i c a l elements i n h u m a n i s m have included a strain of a n t i - h u m a n i s m whereby

con-

sciousness identifies w i t h w h a t threatens i t , a n d e s p e c i a l l y w i t h w h a t it s u b m i t s t o , t h e r e b y e m p o w e r i n g a n d d e s t a b i l i z i n g itself b o t h at once. It is c e r t a i n l y the case t h a t i n the W e s t s u b m i s s i o n to d e a t h is never q u i t e w h a t it seems. A l o n g s i d e o r i n s i d e a n abject s u b m i s s i o n t o d e a t h there is often a n a r r o g a n t i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h i t . S i m i l a r l y , w h i l e the i n s t a b i l i t i e s , a n x i e t i e s a n d c o n t r a d i c t i o n s t o be f o u n d i n s u b j e c t i v i t y c a n be t r u l y self-destructive, they are a l s o the p r e c o n d i t i o n , a n d the i n c e n t i v e , f o r s u c h a n i d e n t i f i c a t i o n . A s w e s h a l l see, f r o m C h r i s t i a n t h e o l o g y to p o s t - m o d e r n i s m , a d e s i r i n g i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h d e a t h is xxii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

o n e o f the m o s t r e m a r k a b l e aspects o f o u r c u l t u r e . S o m e

post-

m o d e r n i s t s seek e m p o w e r m e n t i n a quest f o r p e r p e t u a l i n s t a b i l i t y h e n c e i n p a r t t h e i r p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h the d e a t h o f m a n , the d e a t h o f the a u t h o r , the d e a t h o f the subject. (By r e p l a c i n g ' i n d i v i d u a l ' w i t h the m o r e t e c h n i c a l t e r m ' s u b j e c t ' , c u l t u r a l t h e o r i s t s are c o n v e y i n g the i d e a t h a t o u r s u b j e c t i v i t y , f a r f r o m b e i n g a u t o n o m o u s , is ' s u b j e c t e d ' t o the h i s t o r i c a l a n d s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e s w h i c h d e t e r m i n e it.) F a r f r o m b e i n g r a d i c a l l y i n n o v a t i v e , as t h e i r a d h e r e n t s c l a i m , s u c h recent ideas are m u t a t i o n s o f o l d e r ones. D e v o t e e s o f p o s t - m o d e r n t h e o r y , o f t e n i g n o r a n t o f i n t e l l e c t u a l h i s t o r y , r e m a i n u n a w a r e o f the e x t e n t t o w h i c h earlier w a y s of t h i n k i n g w h i c h it claims to have entirely superseded r e m a i n obscurely active w i t h i n it.

Sexual/gender

differences

It has b e e n s a i d t h a t the ' m a n ' w h o has r e c e n t l y d i e d w a s i n d e e d e x c l u s i v e l y m a l e , a n d the i d e o l o g i e s he s e r v e d q u i n t e s s e n t i a l l y m a s c u l i n i s t . It w i l l be c l e a r i n w h a t f o l l o w s t h a t the W e s t e r n p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h , d e s i r e a n d loss is a l s o s i g n i f i c a n t l y g e n d e r e d . I n o n e respect it c o u l d h a r d l y be o t h e r w i s e , g i v e n t h a t the v a s t m a j o r i t y o f the w r i t e r s w h o a p p e a r here are m a l e ( a n d q u i t e a f e w c o n s p i c u o u s l y m i s o g y n i s t as w e l l - S c h o p e n h a u e r a n d N i e t z s c h e i n c l u d e d ) . E v e n w h e n (like S c h o p e n h a u e r a n d N i e t z s c h e ) they are h o s t i l e t o C h r i s t i a n i t y , it is t h a t r e l i g i o n w h i c h r e m a i n s the m o s t s i g n i f i c a n t p r e c e d e n t f o r t h e i r m i s o g y n y - e s p e c i a l l y the n a r r a t i v e o f the F a l l , w h i c h r e s o n a t e s p o w e r f u l l y i n o u r c u l t u r e to t h i s d a y . It w a s o r is a n a r r a t i v e i n w h i c h w o m a n is h e l d r e s p o n s i b l e f o r b r i n g i n g d e a t h a n d m u t a b i l i t y i n t o the w o r l d . A s m i g h t be e x p e c t e d , there is n o d e a r t h o f p s y c h o a n a l y t i c e x p l a n a t i o n s for

this association of w o m e n w i t h death, r a n g i n g f r o m c h r o n i c

u n c o n s c i o u s m a l e fear o f e n g u l f m e n t o r even c a s t r a t i o n i n s e x u a l i n t e r c o u r s e , t o the d i f f i c u l t y o f the b o y c h i l d l e a v i n g the m o t h e r f o r a n o t h e r w o m a n . It has a l s o b e e n suggested t h a t there m i g h t be a deep envy of w o m e n ' s procreative ability ( w o m b envy). Recently C a m i l l e Paglia h a d gone rather further, arguing that men's fear o f w o m e n is n a t u r a l , even r a t i o n a l , a n d b i o l o g i c a l l y ( a n a t o m i c a l l y ) g r o u n d e d . A n d she d o e s so i n the c o n t e x t o f a l a r g e r a r g u m e n t w h i c h xxiii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

also associates w o m e n w i t h d e a t h a n d w h i c h revives the i d e a t h a t n a t u r e is m o s t f u n d a m e n t a l l y a force o f d e g e n e r a t i o n . F o r P a g l i a h u m a n h i s t o r y is a struggle b e t w e e n the A p o l l o n i a n a n d the D i o n y s i a n . B y the latter she m e a n s n o t a t a m e , h u m a n i z e d l i v e l i n e s s , b u t a n i n s t i n c t u a l a n d a m o r a l life-force r o o t e d i n c o m p e t i t i o n : ' w e are o n l y for s o m e t h i n g b y b e i n g against

s o m e t h i n g else'. M o r e f u n d a m e n t a l l y

s t i l l , the life-force is a l s o a force o f d e a t h , d i s s o l u t i o n a n d d e s t r u c t i o n ; n a t u r e itself operates a c c o r d i n g to the p r i n c i p l e o f the ' c h t h o n i a n ' , w h i c h m e a n s ' o f the e a r t h ' - ' b u t e a r t h ' s b o w e l s , n o t its surface . . . the b l i n d g r i n d i n g o f s u b t e r r a n e a n f o r c e , the l o n g s l o w s u c k , the m u r k a n d o o z e ' (pp. 5 - 6 ) . A n d i f w e h a v e a n e v o l u t i o n a r y r e v u l s i o n f r o m s l i m e , i t is p r e c i s e l y because it is the site o f o u r o r i g i n . A l l c u l t u r e , says P a g l i a i n a n a r g u m e n t w h i c h resembles t h a t o f G e o r g e s B a t a i l l e ( b e l o w , C h a p t e r 17), i n c l u d i n g aesthetics a n d science, is b u i l t o n the r e p r e s s i o n o r e v a s i o n o f the c h t h o n i a n , a n d o f the fact t h a t there are n o stable objects i n n a t u r e , o n l y the e r o s i o n o f n a t u r a l f o r c e , r e d u c i n g e v e r y t h i n g t o f l u i d , the p r i m a l s o u p f r o m w h i c h n e w life struggles i n t o b e i n g : Everything is melting i n nature . . . A n apple tree laden w i t h fruit: h o w peaceful, h o w picturesque. But remove the rosy filter of humanism f r o m our gaze and look again. See nature spurning and frothing, its mad spermatic bubbles endlessly spilling out and smashing i n that inhuman round of waste, rot, and carnage . . . N a t u r e is the seething excess of being, (pp. 1-6,

41-2)

M e n create c u l t u r e as a defence against n a t u r e , a n d , since w o m e n are i d e n t i f i e d w i t h n a t u r e , c u l t u r e is a l s o a defence a g a i n s t f e m a l e n a t u r e , w h i c h i s , P a g l i a i n s i s t s , essentially c h t h o n i a n - n a t u r e is a ' m i a s m i c s w a m p w h o s e p r o t o t y p e is the s t i l l p o n d o f the w o m b ' . F u r t h e r m o r e , ' F e m i n i s m has been s i m p l i s t i c i n a r g u i n g t h a t f e m a l e a r c h e t y p e s w e r e politically motivated falsehoods by m e n . T h e historical repugnance t o w o m a n has a r a t i o n a l basis: disgust is reason's p r o p e r response t o the grossness o f p r o c r e a t i v e n a t u r e ' (p. 1 2 ) . It

follows,

for

Paglia,

that

all

11

relationships

are

necessarily

e x p l o i t a t i v e , a n d there is a r a d i c a l d i s j u n c t i o n b e t w e e n the sexes w h i c h begins a n d ends i n the b o d y . Sex is u n f r e e , i n h u m a n e , c o m p u l s i v e a n d aggressive, c h a r a c t e r i z e d b y a ' d a e m o n i c i n s t a b i l i t y ' (p. 13). It is a l s o regressive, a r i t u a l i s t i c a c t i n g o u t o f past h i s t o r i e s - b i o l o g i c a l a n d xxiv

I N T R O D U C T I O N

social -

w i t h the r e s u l t t h a t 'every o r g a s m is s h a p e d b y p s y c h i c

s h a d o w s ' (p. 4). M o r e e l e m e n t a l l y s t i l l , i n sex w e are c a u g h t u p i n a ' b a c k w a r d m o v e m e n t t o w a r d s p r i m e v a l d i s s o l u t i o n ' ; sex

threatens

a n n i h i l a t i o n . T h i s , says P a g l i a , is w h y so m a n y m e n t u r n a w a y o r flee after sex: ' t h e y h a v e sensed the a n n i h i l a t i o n o f the d a e m o n i c ' (pp. 4 5). M a l e s e x u a l i t y is e s p e c i a l l y a n d i n h e r e n t l y i n s e c u r e , a l w a y s h a u n t e d b y the p r o s p e c t o f f a i l u r e a n d h u m i l i a t i o n ('a flop is a flop'), a n d even w h e n a p p a r e n t l y successful it is i n h e r e n t l y m u t a b l e , g o i n g f r o m e r e c t i o n t h r o u g h o r g a s m t o d e t u m e s c e n c e : ' M e n enter i n t r i u m p h b u t w i t h d r a w i n d e c r e p i t u d e . T h e sex act c r u e l l y m i m i c s h i s t o r y ' s d e c l i n e a n d f a l l ' (p. 2 0 ) . W h i c h a l s o m e a n s t h a t m a l e s e x u a l i t y is i n h e r e n t l y m a n i c d e p r e s s i v e a n d a l w a y s d r i v e n b e y o n d a n d h a u n t e d b y its o w n i m p o s s i b i l i t y o f f u l f i l m e n t : ' M e n k n o w they are s e x u a l e x i l e s . T h e y w a n d e r the e a r t h s e e k i n g s a t i s f a c t i o n , c r a v i n g a n d d e s p i s i n g , never c o n t e n t . T h e r e is n o t h i n g i n t h a t a n g u i s h e d m o t i o n f o r w o m e n t o e n v y ' (p. 19). F o r e v e r y o n e , she says, the o n l y perfect f r e e d o m is d e a t h (p. 3). U n s u r p r i s i n g l y , it is i n the f e m i n i s m w h i c h P a g l i a r e p e a t e d l y a t t a c k s t h a t w e find a n o p p o s i n g p e r s p e c t i v e t o hers. M o s t f e m i n i s t s w o u l d reject the w a y i n w h i c h P a g l i a associates f e m a l e s e x u a l i t y w i t h d e a t h , seeing d e a t h as m u c h m o r e a c o n c e r n o f m a l e s e x u a l i t y , b u t e v e n t h e n m a k i n g the c o n n e c t i o n h i s t o r i c a l l y c o n t i n g e n t r a t h e r t h a n n a t u r a l l y necessary. S i m o n e de B e a u v o i r w a s the a u t h o r o f The

Second

Sex, c r u c i a l l y

f o r m a t i v e f o r m o d e r n f e m i n i s m . It w a s a b o o k w h i c h n o t o n l y c h a n g e d the lives o f t h o u s a n d s o f w o m e n , b u t , a c c o r d i n g t o T o r i l M o i , ' p o s e d every o n e o f the p r o b l e m s f e m i n i s t s t o d a y are w o r k i n g t o s o l v e ' (p. 3) .

1 2

So i t is i n s t r u c t i v e t o l e a r n t h a t B e a u v o i r ' s i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d c u l t u r a l achievements

w e r e i n e x t r i c a b l y b o u n d u p w i t h d e a t h . She

wrote

t i r e l e s s l y ; M o i observes t h a t h e r a u t o b i o g r a p h i e s a n d letters a l o n e r u n t o w e l l o v e r a m i l l i o n w o r d s (p. 4). I n t h i s w r i t i n g , a g e i n g a n d d e a t h are r e c u r r i n g t h e m e s , e v e n o b s e s s i o n s . A t the e n d o f The

Prime

of

Life she w r i t e s , ' O n e n i g h t i n J u n e 1 9 4 4 , 1 t r i e d t o e x o r c i z e d e a t h w i t h w o r d s . I e x c e r p t s o m e o f m y n o t e s here . . .'; t o w r i t e at a l l b e c o m e s ' m y last a n d greatest r e c o u r s e a g a i n s t d e a t h ' (pp. 4 7 5 - 6 ) . I n de Beavoir:

Encounters

with Death,

Simone

E l a i n e M a r k s contends that all

B e a u v o i r ' s w r i t i n g s m a y be seen as desperate efforts t o e x o r c i z e d e a t h w i t h w o r d s (p. 11). P u t a n o t h e r w a y , it w a s d e a t h w h i c h d r o v e h e r

XXV

I N T R O D U C T I O N

to w r i t e . D e a t h w a s b o t h a v i o l a t i o n o f her b e i n g a n d w h a t i m p a r t e d to it a n a n g u i s h e d energy ( M a r k s , passim;

M o i , pp. 236-52).

F o r B e a u v o i r d e a t h is ever-present as m u t a b i l i t y - a p r o f o u n d sense o f loss a r i s i n g f r o m b u t a l w a y s e x c e e d i n g the r e a l i z a t i o n o f o n e ' s o w n p h y s i c a l d e c l i n e : ' T h e e p h e m e r a l w a s m y l o t . A n d d o w n the s t r e a m o f T i m e , h i s t o r y b o r e its vast j u m b l e o f i n c u r a b l e i l l s , its b r i e f m o m e n t s o f g l o r y ' (p. 473). A n d yet f o r B e a u v o i r d e a t h is a b o u t t e r r o r r a t h e r t h a n the s e d u c t i o n o f n o n - b e i n g : 'I c o u l d n o t bear t o t h i n k o f m y s e l f as finite a n d e p h e m e r a l , a d r o p o f w a t e r i n the o c e a n ; at t i m e s a l l m y e n d e a v o u r s seemed v a n i t y , h a p p i n e s s b e c a m e a false l u r e , a n d the w o r l d w o r e the m o c k i n g , i l l u s o r y m a s k o f N o t h i n g n e s s ' (p. 475). M e n h a v e , o f c o u r s e , w r i t t e n a b o u t the t e r r o r o f n o n - b e i n g . B u t , f r o m the h i s t o r y w h i c h I e x p l o r e i n this b o o k , I h a z a r d the g e n e r a l i z a t i o n t h a t it is m e n m o r e t h a n w o m e n w h o e x p e r i e n c e the s e d u c t i o n o f n o n being. F e m i n i s t w r i t e r s w h o d r a w o n p h i l o s o p h y a n d p s y c h o a n a l y s i s are i n c l i n e d t o r e g a r d the g e n d e r i n g o f d e a t h as c o m p l e x . A l t h o u g h , as w e ' v e seen, p s y c h o a n a l y s i s p r o v i d e s m a n y m o d e l s f o r e x p l a i n i n g a m a l e fear o f female s e x u a l i t y — a n d e s p e c i a l l y a m a l e a s s o c i a t i o n o f f e m a l e s e x u a l i t y a n d d e a t h - it is a l s o the case t h a t w o m e n p s y c h o a n a lysts l i k e M e l a n i e K l e i n , J u l i a K r i s t e v a a n d J u l i e t M i t c h e l l d o n o t l o c a t e the c o n v e r g e n c e o f s e x u a l i t y a n d d e a t h w i t h i n the m a l e p s y c h e a l o n e . In her p r e d o m i n a n t l y p s y c h o a n a l y t i c s t u d y Over Her Dead

Body,

E l i s a b e t h B r o n f e n argues t h a t gender c o n s t r u c t i o n s are ' s u p p l e m e n t a r y t o the d i v i s i o n b e t w e e n life a n d d e a t h ' (p. 266). B r o n f e n ' s t h e m e is the p e r v a s i v e aesthetic c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n

death a n d femininity,

themselves the t w o c e n t r a l e n i g m a s o f W e s t e r n d i s c o u r s e . She s h o w s h o w the i m a g e o f the d e a d o r d y i n g w o m a n is so p e r v a s i v e i n o u r c u l t u r e t h a t w e often f a i l to see i t . E d g a r A l l a n P o e o n c e s a i d , ' T h e d e a t h o f a b e a u t i f u l w o m a n i s , u n q u e s t i o n a b l y , the m o s t p o e t i c a l t o p i c i n the w o r l d ' ( B r o n f e n , p p . 5 9 - 6 0 ) . F o r s o m e f e m i n i s t s , s u c h a r e m a r k e p i t o m i z e s the hatefulness o f p a t r i a r c h a l society i n aesthetic disguise - a k i n d o f n e c r o p h i l i c m i s o g y n y . F o r B r o n f e n , s u c h a response to P o e ' s r e m a r k i n v o l v e s the e r r o n e o u s a s s u m p t i o n o f a s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d connection between

cultural image and experienced

reality -

an

a s s u m p t i o n ' w h i c h defuses b o t h the real v i o l e n c e o f p o l i t i c a l d o m i n a t i o n a n d the p o w e r o f r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s ' (p. 59). It a l s o i g n o r e s the xxvi

I N T R O D U C T I O N

m u l t i p l i c i t y o f t h e m e s w h i c h are c o n d e n s e d a n d d i s p l a c e d i n the i m a g e , a n d its a m b i v a l e n t f u s i o n o f s u b v e r s i v e as w e l l as c o n s e r v a t i v e d r i v e s , a l l o f w h i c h l e a d B r o n f e n n o t s i m p l y t o reject P o e ' s r e m a r k , b u t t o q u e s t i o n it p s y c h o a n a l y t i c a l l y . W h y a dead w o m a n ? E q u a l l y i m p o r t a n t , w h y a beautiful

w o m a n ? A n d , a b o v e a l l , ' w h y the u n c o n d i t i o n e d

"unquestionably", why

the

superlative

"most

p o e t i c a l " '?

What

emerges f r o m P o e ' s r e m a r k are s o m e e n d u r i n g p a r a d o x e s a n d c o n t r a d i c t i o n s i n o u r c u l t u r e . F o r i n s t a n c e , b e a u t y is f o u n d t o be n o t the l i f e - a f f i r m i n g o p p o s i t e o f d e a t h , b u t its m a s k -

a mask allowing

for a n insecure t r a n s l a t i o n of anxiety i n t o desire. F u r t h e r , B r o n f e n a r g u e s t h a t aesthetics a n d f e m i n i n i t y s t a n d i n a n a n a l o g o u s r e l a t i o n t o d e a t h , i n t h a t b o t h , b y g i v i n g the i l l u s i o n o f i n t a c t n e s s a n d u n i t y , c o v e r the i n s u p p o r t a b l e e x t e n t o f l a c k , d e f i c i e n c y a n d t r a n s i e n c y i n life i t s e l f .

13

If w r i t e r s as d i f f e r e n t as P a g l i a a n d B r o n f e n c o n f i r m the sense t h a t the W e s t e r n p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h desire's r e l a t i o n s t o d e a t h is u n d o u b t e d l y g e n d e r e d , as are the f o r m s t h i s p r e o c c u p a t i o n t a k e s , they a l s o suggest the i n a d e q u a c y o f s i m p l i s t i c o r r e d u c t i v e a c c o u n t s as t o h o w o r w h y . W e d o n o t h a v e t o accept t h e i r o w n p e r s p e c t i v e s t o share w i t h t h e m the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t t h i s is s o m e t h i n g t h a t c r u c i a l l y i n v o l v e s , b u t goes b e y o n d , g e n d e r . M y o w n r e s p o n s e t o the c l a i m t h a t t h i s p r e o c c u p a t i o n is e s s e n t i a l l y a n d o n l y the preserve o f m e n is s i m p l y t o r e c a l l t h a t w e h a v e b e e n here before: f e m i n i s t s h a v e c o n t e n d e d t h a t c e r t a i n k i n d s o f r e p r e h e n s i b l e b e h a v i o u r are c o n f i n e d t o m e n , just as l e s b i a n s a n d gays h a v e c o n t e n d e d t h a t o t h e r k i n d s o f b e h a v i o u r are confined to heterosexuals, o n l y to then have other feminists, lesbians a n d gays l a y c l a i m t o p r e c i s e l y the b e h a v i o u r s d e n i e d t o t h e m , a n d , in

the

process,

revalue

those

behaviours

as

more

than simply

reprehensible.

Social

death

I n the last c e n t u r y fears o f f a i l u r e h a v e i n t e n s i f i e d i n p r o p o r t i o n t o the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t the s o c i a l o r d e r c a n o r s h o u l d be e n g i n e e r e d . T h e s e fears h a v e b e e n e x p r e s s e d as a h e i g h t e n e d c o n c e r n a b o u t the t h r e a t o f s o c i a l d e a t h — the fear t h a t s o c i e t y is e n d a n g e r e d , e v e n t o the p o i n t xxvii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

o f p o s s i b l e e x t i n c t i o n , b y forces i n t r i n s i c t o i t , as d i s t i n c t f r o m e x t e r n a l agents. T h i s fear has i n c l u d e d the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t

contemporary

s o c i e t y , a n d p r o b a b l y the entire c i v i l i z a t i o n , is b e i n g t h r e a t e n e d b y d e g e n e r a t i n g l i f e - f o r m s - the r a c i a l o t h e r , the s e x u a l d e v i a n t ,

the

u r b a n p o o r , t o n a m e b u t s o m e . T h e m o s t e l a b o r a t e d a c c o u n t o f this i d e a w a s p r o v i d e d b y d e g e n e r a t i o n t h e o r y ( b e l o w , P a r t III). D e g e n e r a t i o n t h e o r i s t s d i d n o t i n v e n t the i d e a o f s o c i a l d e a t h , b u t they refined a n d e v o l v e d i t e n o r m o u s l y , a n d the m u r d e r i n g , a n n i h i l a t i n g strains o f S t a l i n i s m , N a z i s m a n d f a s c i s m b o r r o w e d f r o m t h e m . W h a t w e d i s c o v e r (Part V I ) is t h a t r e v o l u t i o n a r y m o v e m e n t s a l s o

find

the r h e t o r i c o f s o c i a l d e a t h u s e f u l as a w a y o f c o n c e p t u a l i z i n g those elements w i t h i n the s o c i a l w h i c h p r o v e r e c a l c i t r a n t . F e a r s o f s o c i a l d e a t h are p a r t l y a c o n s e q u e n c e the

Enlightenment

onwards,

o f e n o r m o u s c u l t u r a l changes f r o m but

they

also

incorporate

modern

mutations of older anxieties about (uncontrollable) change a n d death. In s o m e w a y s the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t the s o c i a l c a n o r s h o u l d be c o n t r o l l e d intensifies these o l d e r a n x i e t i e s b u t changes t h e m t o o : n o w the m u t a b l e s o c i a l d e v i a n t — s h i f t i n g a n d d e g e n e r a t i n g a n d f u l l o f a b e r r a n t desire - becomes b o t h a justification of social engineering a n d a scapegoat f o r its f a i l u r e s . S o c i a l h i s t o r i a n s speak o f a n i n c r e a s i n g d e n i a l o f d e a t h i n m o d e r n times (Part III). B u t i n the w r i t i n g w h i c h this b o o k e x a m i n e s there i s , r a t h e r , a c o n t i n u i n g a n d i n t e n s i f y i n g p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h i n this p e r i o d . P h i l o s o p h i c a l l y , aesthetically a n d erotically, m o d e r n i t y n o w intensifies a n d refines, n o w struggles a g a i n s t , n o w seeks to n u l l i f y that merciless i m m a n e n c e o f d e a t h d i s c e r n e d by a f o r m a t i v e e a r l i e r t r a d i t i o n . B u t there is at least o n e p r o f o u n d l y i n f l u e n t i a l area

of

m o d e r n t h o u g h t w h e r e s o m e t h i n g l i k e a d e n i a l o f d e a t h does seem t o o c c u r . It derives f r o m the belief that c h a n g e - o r at least s o c i a l c h a n g e - c a n be c o n t r o l l e d t h r o u g h p r a x i s (Part V I ) . T h e s e m i n a l figure here is M a r x , a n d the c r u c i a l i d e a (by n o m e a n s his alone) is that w e c a n master c h a n g e a n d n o t m e r e l y be helplessly subject to i t . A s M a r x w o u l d p u t it i n the t h i r d o f his Theses on

Feuerbach:

The coincidence of the changing of circumstances and of human activity or self-changing can only be grasped and rationally understood as revolutionary practice.

(Bottomore and R u b e l , p. 83)

xxviii

I N T R O D U C T I O N

T h i s r e p r e s e n t e d a m o m e n t o u s shift i n t h i n k i n g , f o r reasons w h i c h are w e l l - k n o w n . O n c e the v e h i c l e o f d e a t h , c h a n g e is n o w h a r n e s s e d i n t o the service o f l i f e , b e c o m i n g b o t h the r o u t e t o a d i f f e r e n t a n d better e x i s t e n c e — v i a r e v o l u t i o n , o r at v e r y least s o c i a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n - a n d the essence o f w h a t it is t o be h u m a n . I n o t h e r w o r d s , w e r e a l i z e o u r p o t e n t i a l t o c h a n g e the w o r l d b y s i m u l t a n e o u s l y

recognizing

t h a t c h a n g e a n d p o t e n t i a l i t y (rather t h a n m e t a p h y s i c a l fixity) are the g r o u n d s o f w h a t it is t o be h u m a n ; as M a r x p u t s it i n the passage just c i t e d , i n r e v o l u t i o n a r y p r a x i s the c h a n g i n g o f society a n d o f the self c o i n c i d e . T h i s is w h y r e v o l u t i o n a r y f e r v o u r either i g n o r e s the q u e s t i o n o f d e a t h ( M a r x h a r d l y m e n t i o n s it) o r s c o r n s w h a t it regards as the m y s t i f y i n g q u i e t i s m o f the t r a d i t i o n a l p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h c h a n g e as the g r o u n d s o f d e a t h . B u t w h e n r e v o l u t i o n f a i l s , even w h e n

more

m o d e r a t e a s p i r a t i o n s f o r s o c i a l i m p r o v e m e n t are f r u s t r a t e d , the p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h r e t u r n s . I n r e t r o s p e c t w e c a n see t h a t i t w a s n e v e r f a r a w a y - n o t least i n the w a y t h a t f o r i n t e l l e c t u a l s l i k e H e r b e r t M a r c u s e (Part V I ) p o l i t i c a l r a d i c a l i s m is at s o m e l e v e l a n a t t e m p t t o s u b l i m a t e the m e l a n c h o l y t h a t h a u n t s t h e m . It w a s s o m e t i m e s c l a i m e d t h a t p r a x i s a b o l i s h e d the p h i l o s o p h i c a l n e e d f o r r e n u n c i a t i o n , a n d even a b o l i s h e d i f n o t d e a t h i t s e l f t h e n at least w h a t M a r c u s e d e r i d e s as 'the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h ' . B u t t h i s o v e r l o o k e d the fact t h a t f o r Stoics l i k e Seneca a n d M a r c u s A u r e l i u s (Part I), a n d i n a d i f f e r e n t w a y later C h r i s t i a n w r i t e r s l i k e S i r W a l t e r R a l e g h (Part II), the m e t a p h y s i c s o f d e a t h w a s never d i s s o c i a t e d f r o m , o r i n t e n d e d t o p r e - e m p t , w o r l d l y e n g a g e m e n t ; n o r d i d it d e r i v e o n l y f r o m the d i r e c t e x p e r i e n c e o f the f a i l u r e o f s u c h e n g a g e m e n t - o n the c o n t r a r y , the o b s e s s i o n w i t h d e a t h w a s

i n v o l v e d i n the effort

of

e n g a g e m e n t f r o m the start, a n d it s t r a n g e l y i n t e n s i f i e d h u m a n e n d e a v o u r . B u t f o r the p h i l o s o p h i c a l a d v o c a t e s o f a social

p r a x i s it seems

necessary t o i g n o r e , r e d u c e a n d even repress the s i g n i f i c a n c e o f d e a t h . T h e case o f J e a n - P a u l S a r t r e , p e r h a p s the m o s t p o l i t i c a l l y i n v o l v e d p h i l o s o p h e r o f the p o s t w a r e r a , is e s p e c i a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t (Part I V ) .

xxix

I N T R O D U C T I O N

The aesthetics of energy A n o t h e r movement i n m o d e r n thought involves a conception of change w h i c h is different a g a i n . N o w it is the b e l i e f t h a t W e s t e r n d e c a d e n c e c a n be o v e r c o m e o n l y t h r o u g h a n o n - r a t i o n a l , s e l f - r i s k i n g i m m e r s i o n in

change

(Part V I I ) . R e p r e s e n t e d

most

brilliantly

by F r i e d r i c h

N i e t z s c h e , the c o n c e r n is less t o c o n t r o l change t h a n t o i d e n t i f y w i t h it - e c s t a t i c a l l y , s a c r i f i c i a l l y a n d even m a s o c h i s t i c a l l y . N i e t z s c h e ( b e l o w , C h a p t e r 16) r e a c t e d v i o l e n t l y a g a i n s t a m e t a p h y s i c s o f d e a t h w h i c h he b e l i e v e d h a d been u n d e r m i n i n g W e s t e r n c u l t u r e at least since Socrates a n d w a s m a n i f e s t e d as w o r l d - w e a r i n e s s , a n i n c a p a c i t y f o r struggle a n d resistance, 'a yearning cessation

for

extinction,

of all effort" (Birth, p . 11): i n b r i e f , a w i s h t o d i e . N i e t z s c h e

c a m e t o believe t h a t this decadence f o u n d its m o s t refined e x p r e s s i o n i n S c h o p e n h a u e r a n d W a g n e r , b o t h o f w h o m he h a d e a r l i e r r e v e r e d b u t n o w v e h e m e n t l y r e p u d i a t e d . W a g n e r h a d h i m s e l f been p r o f o u n d l y influenced by Schopenhauer - most especially by his p h i l o s o p h i c a l v i n d i c a t i o n o f d e a t h . T h i s is W a g n e r w r i t i n g a b o u t w h a t he h a d f o u n d in Schopenhauer: the genuine ardent longing for death, for absolute unconsciousness, total non-existence. Freedom f r o m all dreams is our only final salvation. (Wagner on Music and Drama, p. 270) T h i s is e x a c t l y the w o r l d - w e a r i n e s s N i e t z s c h e c a m e t o despise. H e i n s i s t e d t h a t , r a t h e r t h a n e s c a p i n g the w o r l d o f c h a n g e b y s u c c u m b i n g t o the d e a t h - w i s h , o r by s e e k i n g to t r a n s c e n d it m e t a p h y s i c a l l y (in p r a c t i c e m u c h the same t h i n g ) , o n e h a d t o enter i n t o a D i o n y s i a c i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h i t , t h e r e b y s e r v i n g a n d e x e m p l i f y i n g the w i l l t o p o w e r , even to the p o i n t o f w e l c o m i n g d e s t r u c t i o n a n d the s h a t t e r i n g o f self. So i n his i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h change there r e m a i n s a n e m b r a c e o f d e a t h - a n u r g e n t n e e d s i m u l t a n e o u s l y t o energize a n d t o a n n i h i l a t e selfhood. T h i s f u r t h e r shift i n the c o n c e p t i o n o f m u t a b i l i t y resonates t h r o u g h m o d e r n i t y , a n d i f a n y t h i n g b e c o m e s even m o r e s i g n i f i c a n t f o r the p o s t - m o d e r n , a l b e i t i n a n a t t e n u a t e d f o r m . C o m p a r e d t o i t , the f a m o u s p r o n o u n c e m e n t o f N i e t z s c h e ' s m a d m a n ( ' G o d is dead') seems d e r i v a -

XXX

I N T R O D U C T I O N

t i v e . B u t , l i k e m a n y r a d i c a l b r e a k s , it b o t h disguises a n d f a c i l i t a t e s e q u a l l y ' r a d i c a l ' c o n t i n u i t i e s - n o t least b e c a u s e , as I a r g u e ,

what

N i e t z s c h e c a l l s the d e c a d e n t t r a d i t i o n represents n o t a f a l t e r i n g o f the W e s t e r n e x p a n s i o n i s t e n t e r p r i s e (of, i n his t e r m s , its w i l l t o p o w e r ) , b u t a s i g n i f i c a n t s t r a n d o f i t . So t h i s t r a d i t i o n is n o t the a n t i t h e s i s o f the w i l l t o p o w e r b u t its p r e c u r s o r , a n d the N i e t z s c h e a n e m b r a c e o f c h a n g e is i n c e r t a i n respects a m u t a t i o n o f its w a y o f t h i n k i n g , n o t a b r e a k i n g w i t h i t . T h i s is o n e r e a s o n w h y N i e t z s c h e r e m a i n s i n t e n s e l y c o n c e r n e d w i t h the necessity o f c o m b a t i n g the t e n d e n c y t o w a r d s s o c i a l d e a t h c o n s e q u e n t u p o n the p e r c e i v e d d e c l i n e o f W e s t e r n c u l t u r e . B a t a i l l e ( C h a p t e r 17) is different a g a i n , a n d is p a r t i c u l a r l y i n f l u e n t i a l i n t a k i n g the i d e a o f the s e l f - a n n i h i l a t i n g excess o f desire t o its l i m i t s , s u c h t h a t i n ecstasy the d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n d e a t h a n d desire a l m o s t ceases t o s i g n i f y . A n d D . H . L a w r e n c e ( C h a p t e r 18) e x e m p l i f i e s a fascinating a n d recurring c o n t r a d i c t i o n i n m o d e r n i t y — n o w seduced b y d e a t h as release, n o w obsessed w i t h a r a d i c a l i n d i v i d u a l i s m as a n escape f r o m the s o c i a l d e a t h w h i c h is d e s t r o y i n g W e s t e r n c u l t u r e . W h a t makes

L a w r e n c e o f the u t m o s t s i g n i f i c a n c e s t i l l is t h a t

he

e x e m p l i f i e s the e x t r e m e c r i s i s o f a m o d e r n p h i l o s o p h y o f i n d i v i d u a l i s m t h a t professes t o be l i f e - a f f i r m i n g yet is b e l e a g u e r e d b y v i r t u a l l y every d e a t h - o b s e s s i o n i n the W e s t e r n t r a d i t i o n . It is a l s o v i a L a w r e n c e t h a t I r e t u r n i n P a r t V I I I t o the i m p o r t a n c e of h o m o s e x u a l i t y , n o w invested w i t h extraordinary redemptive potent i a l , even as it is a l s o the f o c u s o f intense c u l t u r a l , p s y c h i c a n d p o l i t i c a l anxieties about degeneration a n d death. I n t h i s b o o k I h a v e w a n t e d t o r e a c h n o n - s p e c i a l i s t readers w i t h o u t m a k i n g the p a t r o n i z i n g a s s u m p t i o n t h a t they w i l l be a l i e n a t e d b y a l l b u t the s u p e r f i c i a l . I h a v e n o t just s u m m a r i z e d texts f r o m a f a r , b u t h a v e p r e f e r r e d i n s t e a d t o e x p l o r e t h e m c l o s e - u p i n the h o p e o f g e t t i n g inside a writer's m o o d , language, sensibility a n d philosophy. But I h a v e o n l y i n c l u d e d m a t e r i a l w h i c h I r e g a r d as p o t e n t i a l l y i n t e r e s t i n g a n d accessible t o a n y t h o u g h t f u l r e a d e r . T o say I've r a n g e d w i d e l y is o n l y a n o t h e r w a y o f s a y i n g I've left o u t a great d e a l . I h o p e m y subject e x o n e r a t e s m e f r o m the t a s k o f t r y i n g t o be e x h a u s t i v e . C e r t a i n l y as I w r o t e it t h i s b o o k b e c a m e a d a i l y memento

mori.

I e v e n c a m e t o see b o o k s themselves xxxi

differently,

I N T R O D U C T I O N

e s p e c i a l l y i n the r e m o t e r p a r t s o f l i b r a r i e s a n d s e c o n d - h a n d b o o k s h o p s . T h e t i t l e o f a f o r g o t t e n b o o k a n d the d u s t i t c o l l e c t s h a v e a stillness w h i c h c o n v e y s t h a t sense o f p a s t a c t i v i t y a n d present absence

for

w h i c h d e a t h is a n o t h e r w o r d . W i t h o u t d e a t h there w o u l d be n o p h i l o s o p h y . So s a i d S c h o p e n h a u e r , M o n t a i g n e a n d m a n y o t h e r s . I n fact w i t h o u t d e a t h there w o u l d be n o t h i n g - least o f a l l b o o k s .

xxxii

I THE ANCIENT

WORLD

Eros and Thanatos, Change and Loss i n the Ancient W o r l d

Fragments B e c a u s e the f u l l texts f o r a l l G r e e k p r o s e a u t h o r s before H e r o d o t u s (c. 4 8 5 - c . 425 B C ) , a n d a l l p h i l o s o p h i c a l w r i t i n g b e f o r e P l a t o (c. 4 2 8 c. 348 B C ) , are l o s t , w e k n o w t h e i r w r i t i n g s o n l y t h r o u g h q u o t a t i o n s , r e p o r t s a n d p a r a p h r a s e s i n later l i t e r a t u r e w h i c h s u r v i v e d the c o l l a p s e o f a n c i e n t c i v i l i z a t i o n . T r a c e s , m u t a b i l i t y , the o b s c u r i t y t h a t c o m e s i n t i m e : o f these the G r e e k s o f t e n w r o t e , *and these n o w c h a r a c t e r i z e the G r e e k s ' h i s t o r y , despite the best efforts o f s c h o l a r s . E v e n the act of historical recovery -

most especially archaeological recovery

-

h a u n t i n g l y c o n f i r m s the m u t a b i l i t y o f c u l t u r e . E v e r y success i n g e t t i n g c l o s e r — p a r t i c u l a r l y the m o s t s p e c t a c u l a r — o n l y c o n f i r m s the r e m o t e ness, the i n a c c e s s i b i l i t y o f t h a t w h i c h is g o n e f o r ever. S o m e o f the earliest s u r v i v i n g texts s p e a k p o i g n a n t l y o f t r a n s i e n c e a n d m u t a b i l i t y a n d the s u f f e r i n g they b r i n g . T h i s is M i m n e r m u s (ft. c. 6 3 0 B C ) , o f w h o s e w o r k l i t t l e s u r v i v e s — ' n o t h i n g b u t f r a g m e n t s o f a p a s s i o n a t e p h i l o s o p h y o f l i f e ' ( L e v i , p . 71): like the leaves that the many-blossomed season of spring brings forth when they g r o w swiftly i n the light of the sun . . . we enjoy the flowers of our y o u t h for a short span of time . . -

1

H e goes o n t o say t h a t , because t i m e b r i n g s o l d age ' f u l l o f s u f f e r i n g ' , d e a t h is t o be p r e f e r r e d t o l o n g e v i t y ( T r y p a n i s , p . 135). O f the w o r k o f A n a x i m a n d e r , w h o w a s p r o b a b l y b o r n i n 610 B C a n d d i e d i n 545, o n l y o n e q u o t a t i o n s u r v i v e s , a n d t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h a t v a r y s i g n i f i c a n t l y ; there the d i f f i c u l t i e s o f t r a n s l a t i o n are c o m p o u n d e d b y the elusiveness, the c h a n g e a b l e n e s s o f a d i s t a n t f r a g m e n t

3

which

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

C o r n f o r d i n 1912) c a l l e d 'strange a n d p a r a d o x i c a l ' , a d d i n g , 'the m o r e w e t h i n k a b o u t i t the m o r e p r e p o s t e r o u s it seems' (p. 11). H e r e are three d i f f e r i n g t r a n s l a t i o n s : Things perish into those things out of w h i c h they have their birth, according to that w h i c h is ordained; for they give reparation to one another and pay the penalty of their injustice according to the disposition of time. ( C o r n f o r d , p. 8) A l l the heavens and all the worlds i n them come to be f r o m the one limitless element: and the source out of w h i c h all existing things come to be is the same into w h i c h they are also resolved, by necessity, as they pay penalty and retribution to one another for their injustice according to the assessment of time. (Levi, p. 97) O u t of those things f r o m w h i c h their generation comes [namely, the opposing powers], into these again does the destruction of things take place, i n accordance w i t h what is right and necessary; for they make amends and pay the penalty to one another for their aggression [adikia, injustice] according to the ordinance of T i m e . ( K a h n , p. 18) W h a t is the ' l i m i t l e s s e l e m e n t ' f r o m w h i c h e v e r y t h i n g c o m e s ? It cert a i n l y i s n ' t G o d . O t h e r s t r a n s l a t e it as s o m e t h i n g ' u n d e f i n e d ' o r ' i n d e f i n i t e ' ; p e r h a p s the o r i g i n o f a l l t h i n g s is a state w e c a n best u n d e r s t a n d as ' u n d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n ' . I n K a h n ' s t r a n s l a t i o n it is d i f f e r e n t again: 'opposing powers'. C o r n f o r d construes f r o m A n a x i m a n d e r ' s fragment a threefold level o f e x i s t e n c e . F i r s t there is the m u l t i p l i c i t y o f i n d i v i d u a t e d t h i n g s ; t h i s is the w o r l d w e k n o w . T h e n there are the elements o u t o f w h i c h these t h i n g s emerge: e a r t h , a i r , w a t e r a n d fire. C e r t a i n l y there w a s a b e l i e f at the t i m e t h a t life is b o r n o f a c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n these e l e m e n t s . A c o n f l i c t , n o t a b e n i g n m i x i n g : the p o i n t w a s t h a t these e l e m e n t s w e r e i n p e r p e t u a l w a r w i t h e a c h o t h e r . T h e s e are the ' o p p o s i n g p o w e r s ' o f K a h n ' s t r a n s l a t i o n . I n d i v i d u a t e d f o r m s o f life e v e n t u a l l y d i s s o l v e b a c k i n t o the e l e m e n t s . B u t the elements are n o t p e r m a n e n t ; t h e y

too

e v e n t u a l l y d i s s o l v e b a c k i n t o the p r i m a r y , f o r m l e s s , i n d e f i n i t e state o f t h i n g s . W h a t is m o s t p u z z l i n g t o us, p e r h a p s , is t h a t the d e s t r u c t i o n o f life is d e s c r i b e d m o r a l l y . T h e i m p l i c a t i o n seems t o be t h a t b i r t h , the i n d i v i d u a t i o n o f t h i n g s f r o m the f o r m l e s s v i a the c o n f l i c t o f the

4

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e l e m e n t s , is a c r i m e , a n d t h a t d e a t h a n d d i s s o l u t i o n o f these t h i n g s are a r e p a r a t i o n for this injustice: ' T h e m a n i f o l d w o r l d , i n A n a x i m a n d e r ' s v i e w , c a n arise o n l y b y r o b b e r y a n d m i s a p p r o p r i a t i o n ' ( C o r n f o r d , p . 10). O n e m o d e r n v i e w o f the u n i v e r s e is t h a t l i f e - f o r m s are i n t r i c a t e , c o m p l e x , organized, sometimes symmetrical unities w h i c h m i r a c u l o u s l y e m e r g e f r o m the f o r m l e s s l e s s o f the p r i m o r d i a l . A s C o r n f o r d r e m a r k s (pp. I O - I I ) , i t is as i f A n a x i m a n d e r has the o p p o s i t e v i e w : the e m e r g e n c e o f life is a state o f i n c r e a s i n g i n s t a b i l i t y , a m o v e t h r o u g h c o n f l i c t o f e l e m e n t s i n t o the d i s o r d e r a n d i n s t a b i l i t y a n d i n j u s t i c e o f i n d i v i d u a t e d l i f e - f o r m s . ( A n d , strange as t h i s seems, p e r h a p s t h i s v i e w is n o t u n f a m i l i a r : as w e w i l l see i n C h a p t e r 4, F r e u d ' s t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e w i l l e c h o it.) I n the f r a g m e n t s o f H e r a c l i t u s (533—473 B C ) w e find a n e v e n m o r e acute sense o f the u n i v e r s e as b e i n g i n a state o f p e r m a n e n t c h a n g e a n d ceaseless c o n f l i c t : O n e must understand that war [polemos] is shared and Conflict [eris] is Justice, and that a l l things come to pass (and are ordained?) i n accordance w i t h conflict, ( l x x x i i )

2

I n the m o s t b e a u t i f u l o r d e r H e r a c l i t u s d i s c e r n e d a r a n d o m h e a p o f dust: T h e fairest order i n the universe is a heap of r a n d o m sweepings, (cxxv) T h e p e r c e p t i o n o f m u t a b i l i t y , t r a n s i e n c e a n d c h a n g e leads t o a p r o f o u n d sense o f a n e q u i v a l e n c e b e t w e e n life a n d d e a t h : immortals are m o r t a l , mortals i m m o r t a l , living the others' death, dead i n the others' life, (xcii) T h e name of the b o w is life; its w o r k is death, (lxxix) F o r souls it is death to become water, for water it is death to become earth; out of earth water arises, out of water soul, (cii) T h e r e is e v e n a n e q u i v a l e n c e b e t w e e n eros a n d d e a t h : H a d e s , the g o d o f d e a t h ; D i o n y s u s , the g o d o f eros - these are o n e a n d the s a m e ( c x v i ) . C o n s e q u e n t l y there is n o stable i d e n t i t y either o f t h i n g s o r o f persons:

5

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D E S I R E

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O n e cannot step twice into the same river, nor can one grasp any m o r t a l substance i n a stable condition, but it scatters and again gathers; it forms and dissolves, and approaches and departs, (li) W e step and do not step into the same rivers; we are and are not.

3

I went i n search of myself, (xxviii) F o r H e r a c l i t u s there is n o sense o f p e r s o n a l i m m o r t a l i t y — the u n i v e r s e i n flux i n v o l v e s the c o m p l e t e a n n i h i l a t i o n o f the i n d i v i d u a l . S u c h a n n i h i l a t i o n is the c o n d i t i o n o f r e m a i n i n g p a r t o f the w h o l e . H e r a c l i t u s ' i n s i s t e n c e o n c o n v e y i n g his t h o u g h t t h r o u g h p a r a d o x , i n v e r s i o n a n d the c o l l a p s i n g o f b i n a r y o p p o s i t i o n s has been r e g a r d e d w i t h s u s p i c i o n . L u c r e t i u s f o r o n e m o c k e d 'the d a r k n e s s o f h i s s p e e c h ' , r e g a r d i n g i t as the a f f e c t a t i o n o f a c h a r l a t a n (p. 46). B u t , as w e s h a l l see, p a r a d o x i c a l e x p r e s s i o n is i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m a p r o f o u n d sense o f c h a n g e , m u t a b i l i t y and loss.

4

P a r m e n i d e s (c. 515-c. 4 5 0 B C ) d e v e l o p s a v e r y d i f f e r e n t p h i l o s o p h y . H e elevates r e a s o n , l o g i c a n d d e d u c t i o n o v e r the w o r l d o f

sense,

p e r c e p t i o n a n d i n d u c t i o n ; the f o r m e r give t r u t h , the l a t t e r o n l y decept i v e o p i n i o n a n d d e l u s i o n . T h i s is t o be a c r u c i a l d i s t i n c t i o n . P a r m e n ides argues t h a t c h a n g e is n o t the essence o f t h i n g s ; r a t h e r , there is p e r m a n e n c e w i t h i n a p p a r e n t c h a n g e . T h i s is the T t i s ' — t h a t w h i c h , says P a r m e n i d e s , is ' u n c r e a t e d a n d i n d e s t r u c t i b l e . . . c o m p l e t e , i m m o v a b l e a n d w i t h o u t e n d . . . a l l at o n c e , a c o n t i n u o u s o n e ' . It c a n n o t h a v e c o m e f r o m w h a t is n o t , because ' i t c a n n e i t h e r be t h o u g h t n o r u t t e r e d t h a t a n y t h i n g is n o t . . . T h u s is b e c o m i n g e x t i n g u i s h e d a n d p a s s i n g a w a y n o t t o be h e a r d o f

( B u r n e t , p p . 1 7 4 - 5 ) . ft * this u n c h a n g i n g s

w o r l d o f w h i c h w e h a v e t r u e k n o w l e d g e (as d i s t i n c t f r o m u n r e l i a b l e o p i n i o n ) . W i t h H e r a c l i t u s the u l t i m a t e r e a l i t y is i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m c h a n g e ; f o r P a r m e n i d e s it is e s s e n t i a l l y d i s t i n c t f r o m i t . P a r m e n i d e s a l s o p r i v i l e g e s stasis o v e r m o t i o n . C o r n f o r d argues t h a t , i n the p r o c e s s , he ' e x p u r g a t e s ' the D i o n y s i a c v i e w t h a t life a n d d e a t h are i n s e p a r a b l e a n d f o r m a p e r p e t u a l p r o c e s s o f c h a n g e (p. 220). I m p l i c i t here is t h a t f u n d a m e n t a l d u a l i t y o f the m u t a b l e a n d the i m m u t a b l e w h i c h w i l l so p r o f o u n d l y i n f l u e n c e W e s t e r n p h i l o s o p h y . It does n o t a p p e a r

for

the first t i m e w i t h P a r m e n i d e s , b e i n g a l r e a d y present i n the o l d e r c o n c e p t i o n s o f the u n i v e r s e , b u t w i t h h i m it b e c o m e s i n f l u e n t i a l . B u t

6

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IN

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P a r m e n i d e s c o u l d n o t e x p l a i n the r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n the u n c h a n g i n g w o r l d a n d the w o r l d o f c h a n g e a n d m u t a b i l i t y ; i n fact they

seemed

u n c o n n e c t e d . N o t so f o r Socrates (c. 4 7 0 - 3 9 9 B C ) a n d P l a t o .

The death of Socrates ('the sun is still upon the mountains') O n e v i e w o f the G r e e k s , i n f l u e n t i a l t o t h i s d a y , is t h a t , because they l i v e d at its d a w n , the p e s s i m i s m , n e u r o s i s , g u i l t a n d a l i e n a t i o n w h i c h l a t e r c o m e t o define W e s t e r n c i v i l i z a t i o n , a n d w h i c h are s a i d t o d e r i v e m a i n l y f r o m C h r i s t i a n i t y , were u n k n o w n to them. T h e y were imagined t o c o m b i n e the h e a l t h a n d v i t a l i t y o f the p a g a n ( w i t h o u t its b a r b a r i s m ) w i t h the i n t e l l i g e n c e a n d c u l t u r e o f the c i v i l i z e d ( w i t h o u t its n e u r o s i s ) . T h e r e s u l t - at least i n the H e l l e n i c i d e a l - w a s t h a t ' m a n is at u n i t y w i t h h i m s e l f (Pater, p . 222). N i e t z s c h e ' s v i e w o f the G r e e k s w a s n o t t h a t s i m p l e , b u t i t w a s c o m p a r a b l e . I n the 1886 preface t o The

Birth

of Tragedy

(originally

p u b l i s h e d i n 1872) he regards G r e e k t r a g e d y d u r i n g its greatest p e r i o d as d e r i v i n g f r o m ' a strong

pessimism' rooted in a Dionysiac 'plethora

o f h e a l t h [and] p l e n i t u d e o f b e i n g ' a n d 'the y o u t h f u l c o n d i t i o n o f the r a c e ' ; t h i s is t o be c o n t r a s t e d w i t h a m o d e r n E u r o p e a n

decadent

p e s s i m i s m m a r k e d b y ' w e a k e n e d i n s t i n c t s ' a n d , o f c o u r s e , the d e a t h w i s h - that ' y e a r n i n g for e x t i n c t i o n , cessation of a l l effort'.

This

d e c a d e n t p e s s i m i s m , a c c o r d i n g t o N i e t z s c h e , a l s o c h a r a c t e r i z e d the a n c i e n t H i n d u s . Its p r i n c i p a l m o d e r n m a n i f e s t a t i o n is C h r i s t i a n i t y . B u t w h a t is e s p e c i a l l y i n t e r e s t i n g a b o u t N i e t z s c h e ' s v e r s i o n o f t h i s v i e w is t h a t he b e l i e v e d t h a t the p r o b l e m m a i n l y b e g a n w i t h the G r e e k s : i n h i s o p i n i o n Socrates w a s a l r e a d y d e c a d e n t (Birth,

p p . 4—

15). S o f a r as N i e t z s c h e is c o n c e r n e d , d e c a d e n t forces w e r e a l r e a d y at w o r k i n G r e e k c u l t u r e , n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g its g e n e r a l v i t a l i t y . I n this N i e t z s c h e is e x p r e s s i n g a n o b s e s s i o n c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f h i s t i m e w h i c h we w i l l encounter

l a t e r , n a m e l y the i d e a t h a t the m o r e v i t a l the

l i f e - f o r c e i s , the m o r e v u l n e r a b l e i t is t o the forces o f d e g e n e r a t i o n . I n o n e sense N i e t z s c h e is r i g h t : i n P l a t o n i s m , a n d t h e n i n E p i c u r e a n a n d S t o i c p h i l o s o p h y , there is a p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h s o m e o f the ideas a b o u t desire a n d d e a t h s u b s e q u e n t l y i n f l u e n t i a l i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e ,

7

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i n c l u d i n g the sense o f desire as b e i n g c h a r a c t e r i z e d b y l a c k , a b s e n c e , loss a n d , i n c r e a s i n g l y , f u t i l i t y . I n 399 B C Socrates w a s c h a r g e d w i t h heresy a n d c o r r u p t i n g the m i n d s o f the y o u n g (one o f his m o s t i n t i m a t e p u p i l s h a d b e e n the i n f a m o u s A l c i b i a d e s , r e m e m b e r e d n o w o n l y as a t r a i t o r w h o s e a c t i o n s h a d helped destroy his country). H e was f o u n d guilty a n d c o n d e m n e d t o d e a t h . I n his final address t o the c o u r t , he d e c l a r e d t h a t d e a t h is n o t t o be f e a r e d , because i t e n t a i l s o n e o f t w o t h i n g s : i m m o r t a l i t y o r a n n i h i l a t i o n . I m m o r t a l i t y w o u l d be r e a s s u r i n g f o r o b v i o u s r e a s o n s , a l t h o u g h Socrates presents these s o m e w h a t f a c e t i o u s l y , b u t so t o o w o u l d be t h a t state o f a n n i h i l a t i o n i n w h i c h w e h a v e n o c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f a n y t h i n g ever a g a i n . T h i s , says S o c r a t e s , w o u l d be a p r o f o u n d g a i n , a k i n t o d r e a m l e s s sleep, w h i c h is the best sleep o f a l l , p r e f e r a b l e e v e n t o w a k i n g l i f e , n o t least because 'the w h o l e o f t i m e . . . c a n be r e g a r d e d as n o m o r e t h a n o n e single n i g h t ' ( P l a t o , Apology,

p . 75).

C a n w e detect here a d e a t h - w i s h ? C e r t a i n l y Socrates i n h i s

final

a d d r e s s w e l c o m e s h i s o w n d e a t h , a n d even seems t o e n g i n e e r i t . I n effect he c h o s e the d e a t h p e n a l t y , r e f u s i n g t o g o i n t o e x i l e , b r i b e h i m s e l f free o r be s m u g g l e d o u t o f p r i s o n . S c h o p e n h a u e r , the greatest a d v o c a t e o f the d e a t h d r i v e b e f o r e F r e u d , p a r a p h r a s e s t h u s the w o r d s o f S o c r a t e s just c i t e d : ' e v e n i f d e a t h d e p r i v e d us o f c o n s c i o u s n e s s f o r ever, i t w o u l d be a w o n d e r f u l g a i n , f o r a d e e p , d r e a m l e s s sleep is t o be p r e f e r r e d t o a n y d a y , e v e n o f the h a p p i e s t l i f e ' {World, N i e t z s c h e is u n e q u i v o c a l :

II.586).

5

Socrates wanted to die - it was not Athens, it was he w h o handed himself the poison cup, w h o compelled Athens to hand h i m the poison cup . . . 'Socrates is no physician,' he said softly to himself: 'death alone is a physician here . . . Socrates had only been a long time sick . . .' (Twilight,

p. 34)

C e r t a i n l y S o c r a t e s ' p h i l o s o p h y i n v o l v e s a t u r n i n g a w a y f r o m the w o r l d - s o m e t h i n g o n e c a n n o t h e l p r e c a l l i n g w h e n r e a d i n g i n the

Phaedo

a b o u t h i s last m o m e n t s . C r i t o , S o c r a t e s ' i n t i m a t e f r i e n d , urges h i m t o d e l a y t a k i n g the p o i s o n w h i c h is t o k i l l h i m : 'the s u n is s t i l l u p o n the m o u n t a i n s ' . Socrates r e p l i e s , 'I s h o u l d o n l y m a k e m y s e l f r i d i c u l o u s i n m y o w n eyes i f I c l u n g t o life a n d h u g g e d it w h e n i t has n o m o r e t o o f f e r ' ( P l a t o , Phaedo, I n the Phaedo

p . 182).

S o c r a t e s a t t e m p t s t o d e m o n s t r a t e the i m m o r t a l i t y o f 8

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the s o u l b y m e a n s o f a m a n i f e s t l y i n a d e q u a t e l o g i c w h i c h n e e d n o t d e t a i n us here. B u t i n the p r o c e s s he m a k e s the f a m o u s a s s e r t i o n t h a t p h i l o s o p h e r s are a l w a y s ' d i r e c t l y a n d o f t h e i r o w n a c c o r d p r e p a r i n g t h e m s e l v e s f o r d y i n g a n d d e a t h ' . T h i s is because they are f o r e v e r s t r u g g l i n g t o a t t a i n the state o f w i s d o m w h i c h o n l y d e a t h a f f o r d s . I n l i f e , says S o c r a t e s , w e are c o n s t a n t l y subject t o the d e c e p t i o n s o f sense, a n d the d e l u s i o n s o f b o d i l y d e s i r e ; the s o u l , w h i c h is the agent a n d v e h i c l e o f t r u t h , is ' c o n t a m i n a t e d ' b y the ' i m p e r f e c t i o n ' o f the b o d y . T h e t r u t h w h i c h i t a n d the p h i l o s o p h e r seek is p o s s i b l e o n l y w h e n the s o u l is l i b e r a t e d f r o m the b o d y i n d e a t h . H e n c e the t r u e p h i l o s o p h e r desires d e a t h t h r o u g h o u t h i s l i f e , a n d e v e n i n life e n d e a v o u r s t o b e c o m e ' h a l f - d e a d ' ; i n a l l these respects ' t r u e p h i l o s o p h e r s m a k e d y i n g t h e i r p r o f e s s i o n ' (pp. 1 0 7 - 8 , 113). T h i s is n o t the later ' r o m a n t i c ' m e r g i n g o f desire a n d d e a t h , b u t i t lays d o w n a p r e c o n d i t i o n f o r i t : the c o n n e c t i o n o f d e a t h a n d t r u t h . F o r Socrates the o n l y w a y t o a c q u i r e ' p u r e k n o w l e d g e ' is t o 'get r i d o f the b o d y a n d c o n t e m p l a t e t h i n g s b y t h e m s e l v e s w i t h the s o u l b y i t s e l f (p. i n ) . H e r e is the basis o f W e s t e r n m e t a p h y s i c s , a n d a c r u c i a l i n f l u e n c e o n C h r i s t i a n i t y ; i t is the m o s t i n f l u e n t i a l a t t e m p t t o escape f r o m the m o r t a l w o r l d o f f l u x a n d c h a n g e a n d d e c a y . N o t h i n g lasts; e v e r y t h i n g is t r a n s i e n t : b u t f o r Socrates - a n d l a t e r f o r P l a t o - ' p u r e k n o w l e d g e ' is p o s s i b l e . It is a c h i e v e d b y the s o u l ' s r e c o g n i t i o n t h a t every m u t a b l e t h i n g d e r i v e s its i d e n t i t y f r o m a n o r i g i n a l ' f o r m ' . S u c h f o r m s c o n s t i t u t e a changeless r e a l m o f u l t i m a t e t r u t h w h i c h is a l s o the u l t i m a t e r e a l i t y ; b y c o n t r a s t w i t h t h i s t r a n s c e n d e n t r e a l m , the m u t a b l e w o r l d o f sense, b o d y , c h a n g e a n d a l t e r a t i o n is a l w a y s s o m e h o w u n r e a l a n d u n t r u e . A n d the s o u l i t s e l f f u n d a m e n t a l l y , e s s e n t i a l l y , b e l o n g s t o t h i s r e a l m o f u l t i m a t e , u n c h a n g i n g t r u t h . If the b o d y a n d its desires are l o s t i n the u n r e a l w o r l d o f c h a n g e , the s o u l desires a n d seeks o u t t h a t w h i c h is e s s e n t i a l l y p e r m a n e n t , t h i s b e i n g its o w n t r u e n a t u r e as w e l l . T h e ( P l a t o n i c ) f o r m s are u n c r e a t e d , i n d e s t r u c t i b l e , e t e r n a l l y b e y o n d c o r r u p t i o n ; i t is just because t h e y d o n o t e x i s t i n space a n d t i m e t h a t t h e y are the perfect o r i g i n a n d a b s o l u t e j u s t i f i c a t i o n o f e v e r y t h i n g t h a t d o e s so e x i s t . W e desire f o r m s l i k e B e a u t y , b u t t h e y are n o t accessible t o o u r senses, o n l y t o p u r e t h o u g h t - the i m m o r t a l , t h i n k i n g s o u l . W h i c h m e a n s t h a t the t r u e object o f desire is a l w a y s elsewhere a n d a l w a y s r e a c h e d r a t i o n a l l y / s p i r i t u a l l y . T h u s f o r Socrates i n the

9

Phaedo

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

ultimate reality a n d true k n o w l e d g e

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

(themselves

inseparable)

are

a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the s o u l , a n d e r r o r a n d desire w i t h the b o d y . C h r i s t i a n i t y a n d a n e n t i r e s u b s e q u e n t t r a d i t i o n o f i d e a l i s m find i n s p i r a t i o n here - n o t least i n the w a y t h a t , i n the s h a d o w o f d e a t h , Socrates

offers

i m m o r t a l i t y a n d a n n i h i l a t i o n as i m a g i n e d a l t e r n a t i v e s . E x c e p t t h a t t h e y a l s o cease t o be - i n fact never w e r e - c l e a r a l t e r n a t i v e s . T i m e a n d a g a i n the r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f i m m o r t a l i t y is r e a l i z e d i n the l a n g u a g e o f o b l i v i o n ; t r a n s c e n d e n c e a n d e t e r n i t y p r o m i s e the d i s s o l u t i o n o f i d e n t i t y , the c e s s a t i o n o f d e s i r e , the s t i l l p o i n t o f the t u r n i n g w o r l d .

Shelley It is d i f f i c u l t t o e x a g g e r a t e , a n d i m p o s s i b l e t o s u m m a r i z e b r i e f l y , the e x t e n t o f the i n f l u e n c e o f P l a t o n i s m . R a t h e r t h a n t r y i n g , I g l a n c e f o r w a r d to one p o w e r f u l instance of that influence. Shelley's poetic e x p r e s s i o n o f ( N e o ) P l a t o n i s m c o n v e y s m o r e t h a n m o s t b o o k s o n the subject. B u t there is a n o t h e r a n d o v e r r i d i n g r e a s o n f o r c h o o s i n g S h e l l e y , a n d it a n t i c i p a t e s o n e o f the m a i n s u b s e q u e n t t h e m e s o f t h i s b o o k . T h e m o s t p o l i t i c a l l y r a d i c a l o f a l l the r o m a n t i c p o e t s , h i s c o n s i d e r a b l e interest i n P l a t o n i c i d e a l i s m w a s , as J e n n i f e r W a l l a c e o b s e r v e s , u n d o u b t e d l y d e p l o y e d f o r p o l i t i c a l e n d s , as i n Unbound

a n d the Defence

of Poetry,

6

Prometheus

T h a t is t o say, he w a n t e d t o

use P l a t o o n the side o f p r a x i s : the c o m m i t t e d e n d e a v o u r t o s o c i a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n a n d h u m a n e m a n c i p a t i o n . Y e t the s t r o n g e r p u l l o f P l a t o n i c i d e a l i s m f o r S h e l l e y w a s t o w a r d s the o p p o s i t e o f p r a x i s : r e n u n c i a t i o n , escape, t r a n s c e n d e n c e as a n n i h i l a t i o n . T h e s e d u c t i o n o f d e a t h h a u n t s e v e n p o l i t i c a l r a d i c a l i s m , at least i n its r o m a n t i c f o r m s . H i s p o e m Adonais

is a l a m e n t f o r the d e a t h o f J o h n K e a t s , a n d a

h i g h l y w r o u g h t p a s t o r a l e l e g y . W h e n , s o m e w a y i n t o the p o e m , a n d 7

w i t h d u e m o d e s t y , S h e l l e y h i m s e l f a r r i v e s o n the scene ( ' M i d s t o t h e r s o f less n o t e , c a m e o n e f r a i l F o r m ' , 1. 271) he c o m e s t o s i n g the p r a i s e s n o t o f A d o n a i s / K e a t s , b u t o f r a d i c a l d e a t h , e x p r e s s i n g a desire t o d i e i n a n d t h r o u g h a desire f o r , a n d a n i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h , the b e a u t i f u l y o u t h w h o is a l r e a d y d e a d . T h e p o e m e n d s , f a m o u s l y , w i t h a N e o p l a t o n i c v i s i o n i n w h i c h the l o s s , s u f f e r i n g , m u t a b i l i t y a n d l a c k w h i c h c h a r a c t e r i z e existence

i n t h i s w o r l d are t r a n s c e n d e d t h r o u g h 10

an

C H A N G E

A N D

LOSS

IN

T H E A N C I E N T

W O R L D

e m b r a c i n g o f 'the E t e r n a l , w h i c h m u s t g l o w / T h r o u g h t i m e a n d c h a n g e ' (11. 3 4 0 - 4 1 ) : T h e O n e remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, U n t i l Death tramples it to fragments. - D i e , If thou wouldst be w i t h that w h i c h thou dost seek! F o l l o w where all is

fled!

(11.

460-66)

T h e p o e m moves t h r o u g h different conceptions of death. Initially d e a t h is p e r s o n i f i e d as e v i l m o n s t e r : p a r a s i t i c , v a m p i r i c , s e x u a l l y s a d i s t i c , f u l l o f p r e d a t o r y d e s i r e . F i n a l l y the o b l i v i o n o f a m o r e r a d i c a l d e a t h e a s i l y k i l l s o f f t h i s p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n (' 'tis D e a t h is d e a d , n o t h e ' ) , w h i c h w a s , after a l l , o n l y a v i n d i c t i v e m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f l i f e , n o t d e a t h . A n o t h e r c o n c e p t i o n o f d e a t h is m o r e a r r e s t i n g : d e a t h as the essence o f l i f e , i n the sense o f a n i n t e r n a l , n a t u r a l p r o c e s s o f e x p e n d i t u r e , d i s s o l u t i o n a n d u n b i n d i n g . ' Q u i c k e n i n g l i f e ' has at its h e a r t a ' s a c r e d t h i r s t ' w h i c h i m p e l s i t t o c o n s u m e itself i n ' c h a n g e a n d m o t i o n ' . ' B a s e r t h i n g s ' d o n o t resist t h i s ; l a c k i n g c o n s c i o u s n e s s , t h e y ' D i f f u s e t h e m s e l v e s ; a n d s p e n d i n l o v e ' s d e l i g h t , / T h e b e a u t y a n d the j o y o f t h e i r r e n e w e d m i g h t ' (11. 1 6 4 - 7 1 ) . A s w i t h m o s t o t h e r p h i l o s o p h e r s ( i n c l u d i n g P l a t o ) a n d p o e t s , Shelley is d e e p l y a m b i v a l e n t t o w a r d s t h i s sense o f life a n d d e a t h as i n s e p a r a b l e -

hence the e m b r a c i n g o f

r e d e m p t i o n i n the P l a t o n i c O n e . S h e l l e y ' s N e o p l a t o n i s m offers t r a n s c e n d e n c e i n d i s t i n g u i s h a b l e f r o m r e g r e s s i o n , u n i t y i n d i s t i n g u i s h a b l e f r o m d i s s o l u t i o n . So t r a n s c e n d e n c e f u n c t i o n s less t o r e d e e m o r even e x p l a i n life's l a c k t h a n as a n ' a f f i r m a t i o n ' w h i c h enables the p o e t t o e n d o r s e d e a t h , t o finally c r y the l o u d e r , ' D i e , / If t h o u w o u l d s t be w i t h t h a t w h i c h t h o u d o s t seek!' (11. 464— 5). O r p e r h a p s i t is the case t h a t w h a t is y e a r n e d f o r - the stasis o f r a d i c a l u n d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n — d i s s o l v e s a l s o the differences

between

t r a n s c e n d e n c e a n d r e g r e s s i o n , u n i t y a n d d i s s o l u t i o n : ' N o m o r e let L i f e d i v i d e w h a t D e a t h c a n j o i n t o g e t h e r ' (1. 477). A n d i f I w a n t t o a d d a p a u s e , even a n e x c l a m a t i o n , after ' m o r e ' , i t is o n l y because t h a t is just w h a t is b e i n g p l e a d e d : No

more.

B y contrast, h u m a n desire, 'that

a l o n e w h i c h k n o w s ' — w h i c h u n i q u e l y k n o w s , a n d so k n o w s i n a state 11

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

o f a l o n e n e s s - is a n ' u n r e s t w h i c h m e n m i s c a l l d e l i g h t ' a n d is a l w a y s i n the s h a d o w o f w h a t m a k e s i t u n r e a l i z a b l e : 'fear a n d g r i e f / C o n v u l s e us a n d c o n s u m e us d a y b y d a y ' (11. 354, 3 4 9 - 5 0 ) .

Desire as lack: Plato's

Symposium

T h e s c e n a r i o i n w h i c h desire seeks i n the u n d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n o f the O n e release f r o m the a n g u i s h e d i m p o s s i b i l i t y o f its o w n f u l f i l m e n t r e c u r s t i m e a n d a g a i n i n the W e s t e r n t r a d i t i o n . A n d i n P l a t o ' s

Symposium

c a n be f o u n d o n e o f its m o s t i n f l u e n t i a l d r a m a t i z a t i o n s . It is a n a c c o u n t o f h o w s e x u a l d e s i r e , o r i g i n a t i n g i n a t r a u m a t i c d i v i s i o n o f perfect w h o l e s , b e c a m e a n e x p e r i e n c e o f i n c o m p l e t e n e s s , loss a n d l a c k w h i c h r u i n e d i d e n t i t y - a n d so severely t h a t desire h e n c e f o r t h b e c o m e s a n experience haunted by death. T h e m y t h is r e l a t e d b y A r i s t o p h a n e s , a n d he is s p e a k i n g s p e c i f i c a l l y o f 'the l o v e r o f b o y s ' , b u t he a d d s t h a t h i s a c c o u n t is a p p l i c a b l e t o a l l t h o s e l o v e r s w h o s e ' s o u l . . . has s o m e o t h e r l o n g i n g w h i c h i t c a n n o t e x p r e s s , b u t c a n o n l y s u r m i s e a n d o b s c u r e l y h i n t at' (p. 63). O r i g i n a l l y , he says, there w e r e three sexes: m a l e , f e m a l e , a n d h e r m a p h r o d i t e . T h e last o f these h a d the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s o f b o t h m a l e a n d f e m a l e . It has since b e c o m e e x t i n c t , t h o u g h its n a m e s u r v i v e s ' a n d t h a t s o l e l y as a t e r m o f a b u s e ' (p. 59). E a c h t y p e o f h u m a n w a s a w h o l e , w i t h f o u r legs, f o u r a r m s , t w o faces o n the o n e h e a d , t w o o r g a n s o f g e n e r a t i o n , a n d e v e r y t h i n g else t o c o r r e s p o n d . T h e y w e r e f o r m i d a b l e a n d h u b r i s t i c creatures w h o even d a r e d t o a t t a c k the g o d s . T o w e a k e n t h e m , Z e u s cut each of them i n t w o : M a n ' s original body having been thus cut i n t w o , each half yearned for the half f r o m w h i c h it had been severed. W h e n they met they threw their arms r o u n d one another and embraced, i n their longing to grow together again, and they perished of hunger and general neglect of their concerns, because they w o u l d not do anything apart, (p. 61) W h e n o n e m e m b e r o f the p a i r d i e d , the r e m a i n i n g o n e ' s o u g h t after a n d e m b r a c e d a n o t h e r p a r t n e r , w h i c h m i g h t be the h a l f e i t h e r o f a f e m a l e w h o l e ( w h a t is n o w c a l l e d a w o m a n ) o r a m a l e ' . T h e y w e n t o n p e r i s h i n g i n this w a y u n t i l Z e u s t o o k pity o n t h e m a n d m o v e d

12

C H A N G E

A N D

LOSS

IN

T H E A N C I E N T

W O R L D

t h e i r r e p r o d u c t i v e o r g a n s t o the f r o n t , m a k i n g i n t e r c o u r s e as w e n o w k n o w it p o s s i b l e . If h e t e r o s e x u a l i n t e r c o u r s e o c c u r r e d , the race w o u l d be c o n t i n u e d ; i f h o m o s e x u a l , t h e n desire w o u l d be satisfied ' a n d m e n set free f r o m i t t o t u r n t o o t h e r a c t i v i t i e s ' . It is f r o m this d i s t a n t e p o c h , t h e n , t h a t h u m a n l o v e as w e k n o w i t derives - 'the l o v e w h i c h restores us t o o u r a n c i e n t state b y a t t e m p t i n g t o w e l d t w o beings i n t o o n e a n d t o h e a l the w o u n d s w h i c h h u m a n i t y s u f f e r e d ' (p. 62). F o r Aristophanes, each person remains incomplete. T h o s e deriving f r o m the o r i g i n a l h e r m a p h r o d i t e sex seek h a l v e s o f the o p p o s i t e sex, t h o s e d e r i v i n g f r o m the f e m a l e s e a r c h f o r o t h e r w o m e n , w h i l e those w h o are h a l v e s o f m a l e s p u r s u e m a l e s : 'they a l w a y s cleave t o w h a t is a k i n t o t h e m s e l v e s '

(p. 63). ' S u c h b o y s a n d l a d s are the best o f

t h e i r g e n e r a t i o n , because they are the m o s t m a n l y . S o m e p e o p l e say t h e y are s h a m e l e s s , b u t they are w r o n g . It is . . . h i g h s p i r i t a n d m a n l i n e s s a n d v i r i l i t y ' w h i c h l e a d t h e m t o l o v e t h e i r o w n k i n d (p. 62). T h o u g h f o r d i f f e r e n t r e a s o n s , Socrates l a t e r c o n c u r s w i t h A r i s t o p h a n e s : l o v e exists o n l y i n r e l a t i o n t o s o m e m i s s i n g object, t h e r e f o r e ' o n e desires w h a t o n e l a c k s ' (pp. 77, 76). H e r e t h e n , s p l i t t i n g o r d i v i d i n g is the f o u n d i n g p r i n c i p l e o f desire. O r i g i n a t i n g i n a d i v i s i o n w h i c h is a k i n d o f d e a t h , desire b e c o m e s a n e x p e r i e n c e o f l a c k r o o t e d i n l o s s ; c a u g h t u p s o m e w h e r e b e t w e e n p a s t loss a n d f u t u r e l a c k , i t w i l l r e m a i n u n r e a l i z a b l e a n d a l w a y s c o m e t o c o n s c i o u s n e s s as the s e e m i n g l y i n e s c a p a b l e c o n d i t i o n o f restlessness, d i s l o c a t i o n , l a c k

-

and anxiety. A l t h o u g h the G r e e k s d i d n o t r e g a r d s e x u a l acts as s i n f u l , a n d d i d n o t classify a n d d i s c r i m i n a t e b e t w e e n t h e m i n the m o d e r n sense, t h e y w e r e the cause o f a n x i e t y . I n V o l u m e 2 o f The

History

of

Sexuality

M i c h e l F o u c a u l t identifies three r e l a t e d aspects o f t h i s a n x i e t y , a l l o f w h i c h , b u t e s p e c i a l l y the last t w o , c o n n e c t s e x u a l i t y w i t h d e a t h a n d ' d i s t u r b e d a n d t h r e a t e n e d the i n d i v i d u a l ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h h i m s e l f a n d h i s i n t e g r i t y as a n e t h i c a l subject i n the m a k i n g ' . T h e first w a s the v i o l e n c e o f the act — a v i o l e n c e w h i c h ' c o n f o u n d e d the w i l l ' a n d d i s o r g a n i z e d the e m o t i o n s . T h e s e c o n d c o n c e r n e d the s e l f - e x p e n d i t u r e o f c o p u l a t i o n : e j a c u l a t i o n m e a n t the loss o f v i t a l , l i f e - s u s t a i n i n g f l u i d s — e v e n a w a s t i n g o f the b o d y ' s r e s o u r c e s . T h e t h i r d w a s a b o u t the w a y p r o c r e a t i o n w a s l i n k e d t o the f u t u r e d e a t h o f the i n d i v i d u a l :

13

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

F o r Aristotle and Plato alike, the sexual act was at the point of junction of an individual life that was bound to perish - and f r o m w h i c h , moreover, it drew off a p o r t i o n of its most precious resources - and . . . [in the words of Plato]

a partaking 'of immortality by

means

of coming-into-being'.

(pp. 3135-6)*

Eros and thanatos,

and the unbinding

of the self

A p o e m b y M e l e a g e r (c. 1 4 0 - 7 0 B C ) e v o k e s the e x p e r i e n c e o f b e i n g profoundly disturbed by a wonderful youth: A t 12 o'clock i n the afternoon i n the middle of the street Alexis. Summer had all but brought the fruit to its perilous end: &C the summer sun &C that boy's l o o k d i d their w o r k o n me. N i g h t h i d the sun. Y o u r face consumes my dreams. Others feel sleep as feathered rest; mine but i n flame refigures your image lit i n me. (Jay, p. 142) T h i s was a recurring topic for Greek lyric poetry, and for comedy a n d t r a g e d y : intense desire u n b i n d s the u n i t y o f the self o r d i s s o l v e s its r e s o l v e , reduces i t t o o b s e s s i o n , i l l n e s s , m a d n e s s o r even d e a t h ; o r splits it i n t o self-division, o r c o n t r a d i c t o r y m o r a l e v a l u a t i o n , o r w r e c k s it w i t h the a m b i v a l e n c e o f l o v e a n d hate f u s e d i n the s a m e d e s i r e .

9

U n d o u b t e d l y there is m u c h i n t h i s v i e w o f e x t r e m e desire w h i c h r e s o n a t e s w i t h the m o d e r n r e a d e r . Y e t i n i m p o r t a n t respects i t is a l s o strange - m o s t e s p e c i a l l y , p e r h a p s , i n the w a y t h a t d e s i r e , f o r a l l its d e s t r u c t i v e effects o n the h u m a n subject, is c o n c e p t u a l i z e d as s o m e t h i n g i n v a d i n g f r o m w i t h o u t r a t h e r t h a n , say, w o r k i n g i n t i m a t e l y

14

C H A N G E

A N D

LOSS

IN

T H E A N C I E N T

W O R L D

f r o m w i t h i n . T h i s is P i n d a r d e s c r i b i n g h i s desire f o r a b e a u t i f u l b o y : T m e l t l i k e w a x as the heat bites i n t o i t ' ( C a r s o n , p . 15). It is n o t a d v i s a b l e t o g e n e r a l i z e a b o u t s u c h a w i d e b o d y o f w r i t i n g across s u c h a l o n g p e r i o d , but, w h i l e m a n y poems surviving f r o m ancient Greece are i n d e e d a b o u t b e i n g w r e c k e d b y d e s i r e , t h e y are r a r e l y a b o u t the f u t i l i t y o r i m p o s s i b i l i t y o f f u l f i l m e n t o f desire as w e w i l l e n c o u n t e r i t l a t e r . A n d yet f o r the G r e e k s ' e r o s ' i m p l i e s l a c k , the w a n t o f w h a t is absent: ' l a c k is [Eros's] a n i m a t i n g , f u n d a m e n t a l c o n s t i t u e n t ' (p. 63). T h i s is n o t just a l a c k o f the d e s i r e d object, b u t a p r o f o u n d state o f loss - p o t e n t i a l l y the loss o f self. W e s h o u l d r e m e m b e r t o o

that

' C h a n g e o f self is loss o f self, a c c o r d i n g t o the t r a d i t i o n a l G r e e k a t t i t u d e ' (p. 154): the G r e e k s w e r e o b s e s s i v e l y a w a r e o f m a n i f o l d w a y s i n w h i c h d e s i r e w o u l d u n b i n d the d e f e n d e d self, a n d s p e c i f i c a l l y o f the w a y i t w o u l d p r o m i s e t o c o m p l e t e a self t o r m e n t e d b y l a c k , o n l y t o u n d e r m i n e i t the m o r e . I n Love in Ancient

Greece R o b e r t F l a c e l i e r e c l a i m s there w e r e three

legends w h i c h p r o v e d t h a t the Greeks had meditated on the mysterious bonds between love and death long before the chivalrous society of the M i d d l e Ages and such tales as that of T r i s t r a m and Yseult, w h i c h i n fact contains a good many reminiscences of ancient writers. T h e Greek myths i n question are those of Orpheus and Eurydice, Admetus and Alcestis, Protesilaus and L a o d a m i a . (p. 44) B u t i n h i s d i s c u s s i o n o f these m y t h s w h a t F l a c e l i e r e d i s c e r n s is s o m e t h i n g m u c h m o r e c o n v e n t i o n a l : n a m e l y the ' t r i u m p h ' o f l o v e o v e r d e a t h , as f o r e x a m p l e i n the s t o r y o f h o w A l c e s t i s gives u p h e r o w n life t o save h e r h u s b a n d ' s . A s f o r O r p h e u s , he finds h i m s e l f i n the u n d e r w o r l d o n l y because he has g o n e there t o s e a r c h f o r h i s d e a d w i f e , E u r y d i c e . A n d , as P h a e d r u s p o i n t s o u t i n The

Symposium,

he

does n o t d i e i n o r d e r t o f o l l o w h e r there b u t prefers t o enter the u n d e r w o r l d a l i v e . P r o t e s i l a u s dies s u d d e n l y , s h o r t l y after h i s m a r r i a g e t o L a o d a m i a ; they i m p l o r e the g o d s t o a l l o w t h e m t o be r e u n i t e d , a n d H a d e s permits this - but o n l y for a few hours. W h a t Flaceliere admires i n these m y t h s is ' l o v e r s w h o k n o w i n t h e i r hearts t h a t t h e i r l o v e is s t r o n g e r t h a n d e a t h ' (pp. 4 7 - 8 ) . T h e s e are m y t h s w h i c h register the gulf between h u m a n love and death. M o r e r e c e n t l y the a r c h a e o l o g i s t E m i l y V e r m e u l e has r e v e a l e d i n

15

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS IN

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C U L T U R E

s o m e d e t a i l h o w i n e a r l y G r e e k m y t h a n d a r t eros a n d t h a n a t o s are i n d e e d c l o s e l y a s s o c i a t e d - f o r e x a m p l e i n the i d e a o f the G o d s t a k i n g t h r o u g h d e a t h a m o r t a l they l o v e ,

1 0

o r i n the w a y t h a t H o m e r m o c k i n g l y

treats enemies as l o v e r s , w i t h ' l o v e a n d d e a t h as the t w o sides o f the s a m e i n s t a n t ' , a n d m o r e g e n e r a l l y i n m y t h a n d l i t e r a t u r e , w h e r e eros a n d t h a n a t o s b e c o m e ' t w o aspects o f the s a m e p o w e r ' (pp. 1 5 7 - 9 ) . V e r m e u l e ' s chapter o n this t o p i c , subtitled ' T h e P o r n o g r a p h y of D e a t h ' , begins w i t h a r e v e a l i n g f r a g m e n t f r o m the e a r l y

(seventh

c e n t u r y B C ) p o e t A l c m a n : ' i n l i m b - r e l a x i n g l o n g i n g (pothos) w o m a n ] l o o k s m o r e m e l t i n g l y t h a n sleep (hypnos) atos)

9

(p. 1 4 5 ) .

11

she [a

and death

(than-

H e r e sleep a n d d e a t h c o n n e c t w i t h desire - b u t n o t

a n y desire: P l a t o tells us t h a t , w h e r e a s himeros f u l f i l m e n t is p o s s i b l e a n d a n t i c i p a t e d , pothos

refers t o a desire w h o s e refers t o a s u f f e r i n g

d e s i r e f o r w h a t c a n n o t be f u l f i l l e d , f o r w h a t is absent (Cratylus,

p . 455).

A s s u c h it is a l s o a n e x p r e s s i o n o f m o u r n i n g w h o s e i n t e n s i t y c o u l d be sufficient t o k i l l ( V e r m e u l e , p . 154). S o , i t is a n u n f u l f i l l e d desire w h i c h suggests d e a t h ; as J e a n - P i e r r e V e r n a n t says o f the s a m e A l c m a n p a s s a g e , ' T h e figure o f the b e l o v e d w o m a n w h o s e i m a g e h a u n t s a n d escapes the l o v e r intersects w i t h t h a t o f d e a t h ' (pp. 1 0 1 - 2 ) . F r o m V e r n a n t a n d o t h e r s c h o l a r s w e l e a r n t t h a t the G r e e k s o f the a r c h a i c p e r i o d c o n c e p t u a l i z e d the b o d y - b y w h i c h w a s u s u a l l y m e a n t the a d u l t m a l e b o d y — as r a d i c a l l y m u t a b l e , because p e r m e a b l e t o the d i v e r s e a n d c o n f l i c t i n g forces w h i c h a n i m a t e i t . D e a t h w a s n o t o n l y a h o r i z o n , a n e n d i n g , b u t i n t r i n s i c t o life itself. I n t h i s p e r i o d b e i n g a n d the p r i v a t i o n o f b e i n g are i n e x t r i c a b l y i n t e r t w i n e d , a n d 'the o t h e r side o f a l u m i n o u s y o u t h f u l b o d y is a n u g l y f a d e d o n e ' ; the e x p e r i e n c e o f h u m a n b e a u t y is i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m the sense o f h u m a n t r a n s i e n c e , e x h a u s t i o n a n d d e c a y . T h e s e G r e e k s l i v e d ' b e t w e e n the s h a d o w s o f d e a t h w h e r e they finally m u s t lose themselves a n d the p u r e l u m i n o s i t y o f the d i v i n e w h i c h r e m a i n s i n a c c e s s i b l e t o t h e m ' (pp. 3 2 — 3 , 44). W e k n o w c l e a r l y e n o u g h t h a t the G r e e k s r e v e r e d y o u t h f u l b e a u t y ; w h a t V e r n a n t stresses is h o w t h i s reverence o c c u r r e d i n the s h a d o w o f d e a t h — t h i s is a b e a u t y w h o s e a p p r e h e n s i o n w a s i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m a n e q u a l l y acute sense o f its loss a n d d e c l i n e . T h u s M e n a n d e r ' s f a m o u s r e m a r k ' H e w h o m the g o d loves dies y o u n g ' , a n d the a t t r a c t i o n f o r the G r e e k s o f the i d e a o f a b e a u t i f u l d e a t h . T o d i e y o u n g i n b a t t l e w a s n o t o n l y t o be i m m o r t a l i z e d as a h e r o , 16

C H A N G E

A N D

LOSS IN

T H E A N C I E N T

W O R L D

i t w a s a l s o t o escape the d e c l i n e a n d d e c a y o f o l d age. F a r f r o m being tragically cut short, y o u t h f u l beauty, virility a n d strength were p r o f o u n d l y c o n f i r m e d i n h e r o i c d e a t h - n o t least because they w e r e t h u s r e l e a s e d f r o m the a t t r i t i o n o f t i m e a n d d e s t r u c t i o n . T h r o u g h h e r o i c d e a t h , h u m a n (i.e. m o r t a l ) e x c e l l e n c e ' n o l o n g e r has t o be m e a s u r e d i n d e f i n i t e l y a g a i n s t o t h e r s a n d k e e p p r o v i n g itself i n c o n f r o n t a t i o n ; i t is r e a l i z e d at o n e s t r o k e a n d f o r e v e r ' . T h e h e r o i c y o u t h f u l d e a t h i n b a t t l e is i n a sense a p r e - e m p t i n g o f the d e c r e p i t u d e o f o l d age: ' T h e w a y t o escape o l d age is b y d y i n g i n the f l o w e r o f o n e ' s y o u t h , at the a c m e o f o n e ' s v i r i l e s t r e n g t h . T h r o u g h d e a t h the h e r o is n o w fixed f o r e v e r i n the b r i l l i a n c e o f a n u n c h a n g i n g y o u t h ' (pp. 8 5 6). C o n v e r s e l y , w h e n the o l d d i e i n b a t t l e they b e c o m e u g l y , e v e n o b s c e n e . T h u s P r i a m i n H o m e r ' s Iliad: it looks w e l l enough for a young man killed i n battle to lie there w i t h his wounds u p o n h i m : death can find nothing to expose i n h i m that is not beautiful. But when an o l d man is killed and dogs defile his grey head, his grey beard and his privy parts, we p l u m b the depths of h u m a n degradation. (P. 399) A f t e r H e c t o r h a d been k i l l e d b y A c h i l l e s , o t h e r w a r r i o r s g a t h e r e d r o u n d l o o k i n g at the d e a d b o d y , a d m i r i n g its b e a u t y - a n d m u t i l a t i n g it: ' T h e y g a z e d i n w o n d e r at the size a n d m a r v e l l o u s g o o d l o o k s o f H e c t o r . A n d n o t a m a n o f a l l w h o h a d c o l l e c t e d there left h i m w i t h o u t a w o u n d ' (p. 407). T h e n A c h i l l e s s u b j e c t e d the b o d y t o ' s h a m e f u l o u t r a g e ' , d r a g g i n g it i n the d u s t . B e f o r e c o m b a t H e c t o r h a d t r i e d t o m a k e a b a r g a i n w i t h A c h i l l e s , s u g g e s t i n g they agree t h a t the v i c t o r r e f r a i n f r o m t h i s d e f i l e m e n t o f the o t h e r ' s c o r p s e . A c h i l l e s h a d r e f u s e d . T h e m u t i l a t i o n a n d d e f i l e m e n t o f the b o d y w a s a n a t t e m p t t o r o b the c o r p s e o f its b e a u t y i n d e a t h .

The song of the Sirens I n G r e e k c u l t u r e n o t o n l y is d e a t h f e m i n i z e d , b u t , a c c o r d i n g t o V e r n a n t , ' D e a t h a n d w o m a n arose i n c o n c e r t t o g e t h e r ' (p. 9 8 ) .

1 2

In H e s i o d ,

f o r e x a m p l e , the seductiveness o f w o m e n is i n c o m p l i c i t y w i t h the n o c t u r n a l powers of death; i n relation to M e d u s a , V e r n a n t 17

finds

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

t h a t 'the strange b e a u t y o f the f e m i n i n e c o u n t e n a n c e , b r i l l i a n t w i t h s e d u c t i o n , a n d the h o r r i b l e f a s c i n a t i o n o f d e a t h , meet a n d c r o s s ' (p. 150). B u t i t is t h r o u g h close a t t e n t i o n t o the l a n g u a g e a n d i m a g e r y o f The

Iliad

t h a t V e r n a n t i l l u s t r a t e s h o w c o m b a t t o the d e a t h is

a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the (heterosexual?) e r o t i c e m b r a c e . I n s i d e t h i s a s s o c i a t i o n is the fear o f b e i n g w e a k e n e d , u n b o u n d a n d u n d o n e . S u c h w e a k e n i n g results f r o m desire f o r a w o m a n . It a l s o results f r o m fear. B u t , i n the m i l i t a r y c o m b a t , fear seems t o b e a r the traces o f this desire d i s p l a c e d o n t o the m a l e c o m b a t a n t u n d e r the t h r e a t o r e n t i c e m e n t o f d e a t h . T h e p o e t T y r t a e u s (fl. 685-668 i m i t a t e s the passage f r o m the The

Iliad

BC)

cited earlier, accentuating

even m o r e the a s s o c i a t i o n o f y o u t h , b e a u t y a n d v i o l e n t d e a t h i n b a t t l e : N o t h i n g is improper for the young, nothing as long as a man has the bright flower of lovely youth. W h i l e he is alive the men w h o see h i m admire h i m and the w o m e n desire h i m ; and he is beautiful when killed i n the first line of battle. (Trypanis, pp. 127-8) A l t h o u g h V e r n a n t , w h o discusses t h i s passage, does n o t m a k e t h i s p o i n t , i t s u r e l y seems t h a t a n a d m i r i n g i d e n t i f i c a t i o n with the y o u n g w a r r i o r is c o m p l i c a t e d b y a ( s u b l i m a t e d ?) desire for h i m w h i c h i n c l u d e s an i m a g i n i n g of his 'beautiful' death. D e a t h a n d w o m a n m a y have arisen together, but their association was surely inflected by h o m o eroticism. B o o k X I I o f H o m e r ' s Odyssey

r e c o u n t s the f a m o u s s t o r y o f O d y s -

seus' e n c o u n t e r w i t h the s e d u c t i v e s o n g o f the S i r e n s . C i r c e w a r n s h i m b e f o r e h a n d o f the d a n g e r : ' T h e t h r i l l i n g s o n g o f the Sirens w i l l steal h i s life a w a y . ' T h e y c h a r m a n d seduce m e n i r r e s i s t i b l y . A l l w h o s u c c u m b n e v e r r e t u r n h o m e b u t d i e r i g h t there. T h e Sirens are s u r r o u n d e d b y the corpses o f s u c h m e n — ' h i g h b a n k s o f m o u l d e r i n g s k e l e t o n s w h i c h flutter w i t h the rags o f s k i n r o t t i n g u p o n the b o n e s ' (trans. S h a w , p p . 1 7 0 - 7 1 ) . T h e Sirens are s a i d t o s i n g f r o m w i t h i n a f l o w e r i n g m e a d o w ; V e r n a n t p o i n t s o u t t h a t m e a d o w , o r leimon, a w o r d u s e d t o designate f e m a l e g e n i t a l i a (p. 104). S o , even

was before

O d y s s e u s a c t u a l l y e n c o u n t e r s the S i r e n s , a c o n n e c t i o n is m a d e b e t w e e n s e x u a l desire a n d d e a t h , a n d the f a t a l l y s e d u c t i v e object is f e m i n i n e . M o r e o v e r the desire is o v e r w h e l m i n g - l i t e r a l l y i r r e s i s t i b l e . C i r c e tells O d y s s e u s t h a t t o s u r v i v e the e n c o u n t e r h i s c o m p a n i o n s m u s t s t o p 18

C H A N G E

A N D

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T H E

A N C I E N T

W O R L D

their ears with wax, to be deaf to the Sirens' charm. Circe then says to Odysseus: F o r your o w n part, perhaps you wish to hear their singing? T h e n have yourself lashed hand and foot into your ship against the housing of the mast, w i t h other bights of rope secured to the mast itself. Ensure also that if you order or implore your men to cast y o u loose, their sole response shall be to bind you tighter w i t h cord upon cord. (Homer, Odyssey,

trans. Shaw,

p. 170)

This is done. W h e n the encounter takes place we learn something more about why the Sirens are so seductive. They implore Odysseus to come to them; they treat h i m as a hero and promise h i m that they w i l l send h i m on his way the possessor of divine knowledge: 'we k n o w all things which shall be hereafter upon the fecund earth' (p. 174). A s Vernant points out, the Sirens 'celebrate in his presence that very Odysseus w h o m the song of the I l i a d immortalizes: the virile male warrior'; in their song Odysseus sees himself not as he is, 'struggling precariously amid the dangers of the w o r l d , unsure of the future, but as already immortalized in legend' (p. 105). That is a crucial aspect of what is so seductive about the encounter. As predicted, Odysseus finds the Sirens irresistible and commands his men to free h i m . They refuse, binding h i m even tighter. This episode challenges interpretation even as it demands it; and in a way which reminds us that it originates from a culture which in certain respects is as strange as in other respects it is antecedent and familiar. A n d , if it is appropriate to talk of the unconscious in relation to this episode, it also reminds us that the unconscious is subject to cultural difference and is stranger and more alien than we w o u l d like to believe. W h a t is being seduced is mortal, sexual desire for beauty, strangeness and otherness, and the mortal (sexual?) desire for a legendary immortality. But those mouldering remains tell us that this overwhelming desire leads not to an exalted, immortalizing death, perhaps not even to an ecstatic one, but precisely to a death of the k i n d which the Greeks most feared: without funeral, without tomb, and rotting anonymously on the shore, indistinguishable from the other corpses in the pile. The lure of death — to be free of finitude, contingency, danger; to be immortalized in legend —is confounded by the anonymity 19

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of actual death. In a sense, then, the act of self-overcoming involves a refusal not of mortality but of immortality.

D e s t r u c t i v e desires:

Epicureanism

Epicurus (341—271 BC) was born less than a decade after the death of Plato. Also a citizen of Athens, he lived during a period of unprecedented political conflict; cultural, economic and democratic decline within the cities was accompanied by warfare between them. H e regarded man as tormented and obsessive, full of boundless 'empty desires' or 'empty striving' ( k e n o s p o u d o n ) which afford no enduring satisfaction but cause a yearning which 'goes off into infinity'

(Nussbaum, p.112).

13

Crucially, Epicurus believed that such impossible desires stem from false beliefs about the world, and especially about the objects of desire. These beliefs sometimes generate an intense and destructive anxiety in the individual. To correct rationally those beliefs is to be free of destructive desire and to be returned to a condition of natural desire, the essence of which is that it has a limit, can be satisfied, and does not make impossible demands upon the individual. A remark attributed to Epicurus' disciple the Roman poet Lucretius (c. 9 9 55 BC) makes this commitment to reason, and thereby to philosophy, especially clear: 'By a passion for true philosophy every disturbing and burdensome desire is undone.' This is in fact the main purpose of philosophy - an activity which, for Epicurus, was vain and pointless if it did not alleviate 'the suffering of the mind' (Nussbaum, p. 154; Epicurus, p. 133). Epicurus said 'sexual intercourse has never done a man good, and he is lucky if it has not harmed him' (p. 123), but it is in Lucretius' O n the Nature of the Universe, written some two centuries after Epicurus' death, that this view of sexual desire is articulated more severely than ever before. Lucretius, following Epicurus, describes a universe made up of two things: atoms and the void in which they ceaselessly move. If the atoms are unrestricted by each other they remain discrete and in perpetual movement in the void. The universe as we know it, the existence of animate and inanimate things, arises 14

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from the fact that these atoms do restrict each other's movement; the materiality of things and life itself arises from arrested movement. But the arresting of movement can only be temporary. It is not exactly a harmonious coexistence but a clashing, restrictive intermingling: literally everything which exists derives from the conflict, collision and conjunction of atoms. Lucretius describes a w o r l d in which the motions which bind atoms into being are in ceaseless conflict w i t h other motions which unbind and disintegrate those same atoms: T h e destructive motions can never permanently get the upper hand and entomb vitality for evermore. Neither can the generative and augmentative motions permanently safeguard what they have created. So the war of the elements that has raged throughout eternity continues on equal terms.

There is a k i n d of balance then, but one inseparable from the potentially tragic sense of death's proximity to life; the foregoing passage continues: N o w here, n o w there, the forces of life are victorious and i n turn vanquished. W i t h the voice of m o u r n i n g mingles the cry that infants raise when their eyes open on the sunlit w o r l d . Never has day given place to night or night to d a w n that has not heard, blent w i t h these infant wailings, the lamentation that attends on death, (pp. 76-7)

It is an amoral universe in which the new is built from the wreckage of the o l d , and the birth of some things is inseparable from the death of others (pp. 35, 125). This is a philosophy resolutely materialist i n outlook, and which repudiates belief in providence, immortality and Platonic idealism. While Lucretius' universe is astonishingly fecund, it is also ' b l i n d ' in the sense of being without spiritual essence and t e l o s , and w i t h a destructiveness at the very heart of creation. T h i s is especially true w i t h respect to desire. What Lucretius calls 'this deplorable lust for life' results in 'no one k n o w i n g what he really wants and everyone forever trying to get away from where he is'. In this condition satisfaction remains beyond our grasp: So long as the object of our craving is unattained, it seems more precious than anything besides. Once it is ours we crave for something else. So an unquenchable thirst for life keeps us always on the gasp. (pp. 128-9)

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Lucretius this is supremely true of sexual desire, which in its

acute unrequited form is described as a 'festering sore [which] quickens and

strengthens'. Sexual desire in the male is compared to dying, or

at least injury, and warfare. Be the object of his desire a boy or a woman, the male is drawn towards them with the purpose of ejaculation, just as 'the wounded normally fall in the direction of their wound: the blood spurts out towards the source of the blow; and the enemy who delivered it, if he is fighting at close quarters, is bespattered by the crimson stream' (p. 163). Lovers anticipate that their 'speechless yearning is a presentiment of bliss', but they are wrong: vain is the hope that the flame and pain of love will be quenched by the possession of the beloved; on the contrary, 'this is the one thing of which the more we have, the more our breast burns with the evil lust of having'. It's like a man trying to drink in a nightmare - 'while he laps up a rushing stream he remains thirsty in the midst'. Lovers yearn to become one but remain separate; orgasm gives only temporary relief, and lovers (echoing Aristophanes' myth in Plato's S y m p o s i u m ) ' i n aimless bewilderment. . . waste away, stricken by an unseen wound'. Wealth, patrimony and reputation diminish or are lost entirely. For Lucretius desire is impossible, in the sense that it is self-defeating - i.e. the frustration which it experiences is an internal, necessary condition of itself (rather than being, for instance, the consequences of the contingent unattainability of the object of desire); 'Lovers' passion is storm tossed, e v e n i n t h e m o m e n t of f r u i t i o n , by waves of delusion and incertitude', for 'from

t h e v e r y h e a r t of the fountain of delight there

rises a jet of bitterness that poisons the fragrance of the flowers'. A l l this attends on desire which is requited; the ills of unrequited love are immeasurably worse (pp. 163-5;

my

emphasis). Desire should be

reduced, controlled and to a great extent eliminated. One of Epicurus' fragments reads, 'If you wish to make Pythocles rich, do not give h i m more money, but diminish his desire' (p. 127). Unremarkably then, death is not to be feared. From his materialist position Epicurus had argued for the mortality of the soul; in death it dissolves back into nature, like the body. Death is the inevitable

dispersion of the atoms whose temporary arrangement

constituted

us. In that sense death is not an external agent but the innate condition

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of life itself. T o fear death is irrational, because while we are alive death is not, and when death comes we are not: So death . . . is nothing to us, since so long as we exist, death is not w i t h us; but when death comes, then we do not exist. It does not then concern either the living or the dead . . . (Epicurus, p. 85)

Jacques C h o r o n says that this argument 'has limitations, for it applies only to o n e aspect of this fear, namely the fear of what happens after death' [ D e a t h a n d W e s t e r n T h o u g h t , p. 62). But surely it is more inclusive than that: death as complete annihilation guarantees the end of the fear we now feel about death. K n o w i n g that this fear is itself of finite duration, we are in a better position to extricate ourselves from it now. In other words, if I fear death in the sense of fearing not being alive, not being here, etc., I can be reassured that the oblivion which is death w i l l obliterate that fear too. Quite simply I w i l l not be here to have the fears I now have about not being here. A n d if Epicurus has been regarded as having considered the problem - the mortality of

the soul — as the solution, it can be replied that this criticism

presupposes the desirability of the immortality of the soul. Lucretius stresses the pain and inevitable disappointments of life as another reason for not fearing its loss. A n d n o w , additionally, there is a strong sense that 'the care-free calm of death' is desired; i n redeeming us from suffering, death grants us peace and rest more profound than any k n o w n i n life, even i n the deepest sleep: One

w h o no longer is cannot suffer, or differ i n any way from one w h o has

never been b o r n , when once this mortal life has been usurped by death the i m m o r t a l , (pp. 102, 122-5)

Above all we must remember that 'eternal death . . . the time of not being' is 'no less for h i m who made an end of life w i t h yesterday's daylight than for h i m who perished many a moon and many a year before' (p. 129). In the attitude of reflective detachment from life which Epicurus and Lucretius sought is a paradoxical, valued insight: sometimes it is fear of death rather than the desire not to live which drives one to suicide; or rather the fear of death comes to be manifested as the desire not to live.

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Stoicism Seneca [c. 4

BC-AD

65) writes at length of how difficult it is to be

happy, and of the inevitable failure of those who seek fulfilment through involvement in worldly affairs. For him the human condition is essentially one of restless dissatisfaction. He is another philosopher for whom desire or passion is the great evil: to desire is to be unfree. 15

conflicted, miserable, futile. The things we most desire are what most disappoint - especially power. A n d Seneca should k n o w , being for a period of his life one of the most powerful men in the w o r l d . He draws sketch after sketch of types of dissatisfied human being, all recognizable to this day. They are those who are restless with themselves, wretched because caught up in diverse efforts to realize their desires, all of which are ultimately futile. This man is possessed by insatiable avarice, that by trivial enterprises; another is exhausted by an ambition for power ever thwarted by its depending upon the votes of others; yet another is driven restlessly across land and sea in pursuit of profit. Some are worn out by unrequited attendance upon the great, others are precipitated into one pointless thing after another, driven by a 'fickleness which is rambling and unstable and dissatisfied with i t s e l f ; yet others 'acquire with toil what requires greater toil to hold', or spend their life w o r k i n g for a position which, when eventually achieved, they are too old to sustain: 'the object of the toil was their epitaph' ('On the Shortness of Life', pp. 48, 6 9 , 7 2 - 3). The problem is that M o s t men ebb and flow in wretchedness between the fear of death and the hardships of life; they are u n w i l l i n g to live, and yet they do not k n o w how

to die. (Epistulae Our

Morales,

1.17)

desires are cheated by the mutability which characterizes our

existence; nothing lasts, and most things are succeeded by their opposite. The more successful we are, the more we fear failure - and our fears usually turn out to be well founded: There is a terror in our very pleasures, and this vexatious thought in the very height of them, that they w i l l not last always, which is a canker in the delights even of the greatest and the most fortunate of men. ( M o r a l s , p. 126)

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Overpreoccupied with objectives and 'unaware of our ceaseless and rapid journey through life', our o w n life 'vanishes into an abyss'. There is a fundamental incompatibility between the mutability of the w o r l d and human desire. That is why, if the science of life requires a whole lifetime to master, so too does the science of dying ('On the Shortness of Life', pp. 58—9, 55). In a sense they are the same thing. As he anatomizes human dissatisfaction with life, Seneca occasionally describes conditions which in our o w n time we have pathologized. What Seneca, following Lucretius, regards as a failing experienced by all to a greater or lesser degree, the psychoanalyst might discern as repression, neurosis, depression or a split personality: A s Lucretius says: 'Each man always flees himself.' But what is the good if he cannot get away f r o m himself? H e follows close and is his o w n most burdensome c o m p a n i o n . . . W e are too unstable to put up w i t h anything, and cannot bear hardship or pleasure or ourselves or anything else for long. Some men have been driven to death by this failing . . . ('On T r a n q u i l i t y ' , p. 82)

N o t h i n g epitomizes Seneca's philosophy more than the following remark about possession and loss: ' N o good thing renders its possessor happy, unless his mind is reconciled to the possibility of loss' ( E p i s t u l a e M o r a l e s , 1.17). For Seneca this is true of material possessions and, if anything, even more true of life itself. W e cannot live if we are not prepared - literally - to die: 'I shall never be frightened when the last hour comes; I am already prepared and do not plan a whole day ahead' (1.363). But it transpires that there are different senses of loss entailed by what he says. M o s t dramatically there is the loss of one's own life. But that, in a sense, is the easiest loss of all, since 'nothing . . . is lost with less discomfort than that which, when lost, cannot be missed' (1.365). This fact is supposed to help fortify us against the mutability of our fortunes: unexpected disaster can come at any time, often when it is least expected, at the height of our success. Seneca infers from this inevitability of loss that we should not worry about it - first, precisely b e c a u s e it is inevitable, and the wise man not only accepts the inevitable but wills it, thereby escaping necessity by willing it (1.365); second, because if we assume the worst it turns out to be less terrifying than we thought, containing 'nothing fearful except the 16

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actual fear' (1.173); and third, and most radically, because he proposes we disconnect the present from the future: 'It is indeed foolish to be unhappy now because you may be unhappy at some future time' (1.167). Another kind of loss becomes apparent when Seneca elsewhere describes how revisiting old haunts can 'stir up a sense of loss that has been stored away in the soul, not bringing back dead memories, but rousing them from their dormant state'. H e compares this with coming across some possession of a dead friend 'which renews the mourner's grief, even though it has been softened by time'. The experience of loss returns as if the loss happened but a moment ago - 'for what is not "but a moment ago" when one begins to use the memory?' This comes from an essay on the brevity of life. 'Infinitely swift', says Seneca, 'is the flight of time, as those see more clearly who are looking backwards. For when we are intent on the present, we do not notice it, so gentle is the passage of time's headlong flight.' This is no less true for being a commonplace. But Seneca gives a disquieting reason for why it is so: All past time is in the same place; it all presents the same aspect to us, it lies

together. Everything slips into the same abyss. (1.323)

This idea of all past time as equally present in the same dark absence ('Omnia in idem profundum cadunt') is hardly ours, in the late twentieth century. D o n ' t we rather think of time, even past time, as linear - at least to the extent that the more remote the time/experience, the more tenuous our memory of it? Yet on reflection this patently is not true: a memory of a traumatic event in the distant past can wreck our

equanimity at any time in the present. Moreover, we k n o w that

the significance of an event, even the way it is recalled in memory, is not constant; notoriously, it can be the subsequent memory of the event, rather than the initial experience of the event, which disturbs.

F r o m realpolitik t o r e n u n c i a t i o n Seneca discerns the futility of worldly affairs not from a position of ascetic withdrawal, but from the centre of power and worldly ambition which he knew at first hand. He belonged to the elite who ruled the 26

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R o m a n empire yet whose power to dispense death could never defend them from it — not natural death, obviously, but not violent death either. The briefest account of Seneca's life reminds us of the extraordinary violence of his times. H e himself was three times sentenced to death. O n the first occasion the sentence was revoked. The second occasion arose after he was unjustly accused of an illicit intrigue w i t h a princess called Julia. The charge was brought by Messalina, the wife of the then emperor, Claudius, i n AD 41. Julia was exiled and put to death. Seneca was condemned to death but had the sentence commuted to banishment. H e was exiled to Corsica. A t the same time he lost his son and two nephews. H e spent some seven years in exile, returning to Rome only after a fundamental change in power relations made it possible. D u r i n g Seneca's exile Messalina took a lover, Silius, and between them they tried to seize power from Claudius. The plot failed, and both Messalina and Silius were put to death. Claudius remarried, to his niece, Agrippina, who recalled Seneca from exile to have h i m tutor her son, N e r o . It was at this point that Seneca joined the ruling elite of the R o m a n empire. O n l y a few years later Agrippina murdered Claudius, and N e r o succeeded to power at the age of seventeen. Five years after that N e r o murdered Agrippina. Seneca tried to retire from court affairs, offering to return to N e r o all his wealth, but N e r o refused to let h i m . Nevertheless Seneca managed to go into semi-retirement. In A D 65 there was a conspiracy against N e r o in which Seneca was dubiously implicated. The conspiracy failed, and Seneca was condemned to death. Like most men of his rank, he was allowed to take his o w n life i n what is one of the most famous, most theatrical performances of death ever recorded, i n which Seneca was almost c e r t a i n l y i d e n t i f y i n g w i t h , i f n o t a c t u a l l y i m i t a t i n g , Socrates. There

was the same resignation, but not so unworldly or disinterested as to forgo the opportunity of counter-condemnation: What d i d you expect, Seneca asked his friends, of an emperor who had already murdered his mother and destroyed his brother? It was predictable that such a man w o u l d also murder his guardian and tutor. Seneca's death was slow: severing an artery in the arm failed to bring death, as did severing others in the legs, and then poison. Tacitus records that he suffered excruciating pain, but that 27

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his eloquence still continued to flow w i t h its usual purity. H e called for his secretaries, and dictated, while life was ebbing away, that farewell discourse, w h i c h has been published, and is i n everybody's hands. (1.501)

In fact there is no surviving record of that farewell discourse. Seneca was then placed in a hot bath, and eventually died. H i s wife insisted on dying w i t h h i m , but she survived her o w n attempted suicide. Seneca gives a great deal of advice on how to live - some of it contradicted by what he says elsewhere. H e insists, for example, that we must plan every day as if it is our last, and live for the day. But, on Seneca's o w n admission, even the day eludes us. The poet tells us to grasp the day, lest it fly away, but 'It w i l l fly anyhow, even if you do grasp it, and so your speed in using time must compete with time's o w n rapid pace' ('On the Shortness of Life', pp. 56,58). O n l y the philosopher really lives. H e has access to the knowledge of the sages, who occupy a realm not unlike eternity itself - 'a boundless and timeless region', to be contrasted with the 'petty and ephemeral span' of the here and now (p. 6 6 ) . This too is unpersuasive, at least when we consider the extent to which, in Western culture, knowledge itself is a source of misery. A n d , judging from his o w n continued need for political influence and power, Seneca himself did not find it persuasive either. A key principle of Seneca's philosophy is that we should withdraw into, k n o w and become dependent upon only ourselves. The aim of life is stability of mind, well-being of soul, a state of serenity 'without excitement or depression' - what Seneca calls tranquillity ('On T r a n quility', p. 80). One should remain detached, uninvolved: It is important to w i t h d r a w into one's self. Association w i t h a different sort of people unsettles ideas made orderly, reawakens passions, and aggravates mental cankers not yet thoroughly healed, (p. 104)

But Seneca goes on to tell us that in fact we need society as much as we need solitude. A n d in the same essay we are told that we should sometimes deliberately destabilize the equilibrium of the self through intoxication. A g a i n , this is still the cautious Seneca - such destabilization should not be indulged in too often or to excess - but the way he describes the value of this suggests a wish to undermine the very self upon which his philosophy depends:

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only a m i n d that is excited is capable of great and transcendent utterance. W h e n it has spurned the trite and the commonplace and has been impelled aloft by the demonic urge, then and only then can it sing a strain too grand for m o r t a l lips. So long as it is under its o w n sway the m i n d cannot attain the sublime . . . It must tear itself f r o m the trodden path, palpitate w i t h frenzy, take the bit i n its teeth and r u n away w i t h its rider to reach the height it w o u l d fear to climb i n its o w n strength, (p. 106)

N o t surprisingly, then, Seneca has often been accused of inconsistency. Quintilian (c. AD 35-95) remarked that this inconsistency was because he took too little trouble w i t h philosophy (Sandbach, p. 159). Perhaps it was rather because he mixed philosophy w i t h politics. It is sometimes assumed that philosophers speak more truly from a position of independence - a principled withdrawal from worldly affairs, or just the security of the academy. But this same independence also isolates them from the reality they profess to k n o w . Seneca arguably demonstrates that inevitable, insightful failure of philosophy when it engages w i t h the reality it seeks to k n o w . M o r e difficult than the question of inconsistency is the related question of Seneca's alleged hypocrisy.

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D i o Cassius ( A D 155-235)

observed that, 'while denouncing tyranny, Seneca was making himself the teacher of a tyrant', and, while having nothing good to say of flatterers, Seneca himself constantly fawned upon the powerful especially when he was i n exile. Further, he denounced the rich but amassed a huge fortune of his o w n ; while censuring the extravagance of others, he possessed, among many other things, '500 tables of citrus w o o d w i t h legs of ivory, all identically alike', upon which he served banquets. D i o Cassius also accuses Seneca of licentiousness, including taking delight ' i n boys past their prime, a practice he also taught N e r o to f o l l o w ' (Introduction to ' O n the Shortness of Life', p. 8). W r i t i n g some 1900 years later (1975), F. H . Sandbach declares, 'It is hard for the Englishman of today to approach Seneca w i t h sympathy.' Perhaps more important for 'the Englishman of today' than liking boys who were too o l d - after a l l , he is more likely to be upset by those who like boys too young — is the fact that Seneca acquiesced i n crimes that culminated i n matricide, and that his sudden calling in of loans which he had made to the powerful in Britain helped precipitate the revolt of Boudicca. 29

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The evidence against Seneca is not entirely reliable, but undoubtedly he was much more ambivalent towards worldly success and wealth than his philosophy suggests. Certainly he was miserable in exile. A n d this has caused a real problem for his readers, from contemporaries of his, right through to the present. It strikes me that both the hypocrisy and the inconsistency that critics find in Seneca, rather than discrediting the philosophy, are one of the most engaging things about it. There is a memorable passage in Tacitus describing the exchange between N e r o and Seneca when the latter asked to be allowed to retire. Life at court had become too dangerous, and Seneca was becoming too compromised. H i s enemies were gaining power. It is an exchange imbued with the indirection of r e a l p o l i t i k . Seneca flatters N e r o and expresses himself full of gratitude for the wealth bestowed upon him by the Emperor, but he feels that now it is time to resign that wealth because it is becoming the object of censure; whereas Nero can tower above the passions of ill-designing men; I am open to their attacks; I stand i n need of protection . . . Life is a state of warfare; it is a long campaign, in which a man of years, sinking under a load of cares, and even by his riches made obnoxious, may crave leave to retire.

Nero w i l l have none of it. Though equally flattering, he tells Seneca, in effect: Y o u helped make me what I am, and if you leave me now I will be vulnerable to censure, even disgrace and ruin; so I still need you. Tacitus adds: T o this flattering speech N e r o added fond embraces, and all the external marks of affection. Inclined by nature to disguise his sentiments, and by habit exercised i n the arts of dissimulation, he knew h o w to hide under the surface of friendship the malice of his heart.

The subtext of Nero's reply to Seneca is surely this: Y o u the philosopher give me the tyrant respectability; that was the deal, and there's no going back on it now. H e is also telling Seneca that he (Seneca) is too steeped in the machinations of power to back out now. W i t h a vicious irony, N e r o refuses Seneca's request to retire with a dissimulating eloquence born, he says, of Seneca's o w n 'care and instruction' (Tacitus, I . 4 4 6 - 8 ) . If Seneca's description of the malaise of the human condition is 30

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unrivalled, his advice on how to survive it has more often than not been found unpersuasive,

18

probably because he was never as

convinced as he pretends. H i s advice about the need to withdraw into the self, and his claim that philosophy is the true way of happiness, may have stemmed as much from the need to sustain his role as sage as from his beliefs. But there is another aspect to all this, namely Seneca's realism, the more chilling for being uncynical. H e sometimes promises a transcendence of suffering, desire and loss, but he only ever really gives a strategy for their partial diminution through reason, to be supplemented by sustained repression of that part of them - the major part — which remains. Freedom lies not i n the possibility of radical renunciation, but in the rational effort of partial control. H e exalts the role of reason and philosophy, but in the end his o w n philosophy suffers from the limitation w h i c h he attributes to those w h o w o u l d proceed by that specious 'verbal' k i n d of philosophy which he vehemently opposed: 'they do not abolish the passions in this way; they only moderate them' ( E p i s t u l a e M o r a l e s , II.287). In practice, for Seneca, reason is far more the instrument of repression than of freedom. T h i s is apparent in the letter where he reproves a correspondent, Lucilius, for his restless travelling. It reveals, says Seneca, an unsteady spirit, 'and the spirit cannot through retirement grow into unity unless it has ceased from its inquisitiveness and its wanderings. T o be able to h o l d your spirit in check, you must first stop the runaway flight of the body' and 'lay aside . . . desire'. T h e past must be consigned to oblivion; one's eyes must 'unlearn' what they have seen. Travelling awakens desire and w i l l 'bring back your old cravings'. T h i s , for Seneca, is disastrous, since even a whole lifetime properly dedicated to the suppression of desire and the welcoming of death is insufficient to accomplish the task (II.53 —5). Seneca never accomplished it. H e exchanged one social position for

another, to the end remaining in thrall to his reputation and his

audiences. H i s theatrical death says as much. But what kept h i m a victim of desire and of the social was an uncynical realism which knew the attraction of death. Seneca's preoccupation w i t h death, his insistence that we should at all times be ready to die, is offered as a philosophy of life, of h o w to live well. Yet, when he tells us that without the w i l l to die no one can have the w i l l to live, and that to 31

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avoid fear of death one must think of it constantly, we sense a desire for,

or at least a fascination w i t h , death. H i s readiness to condone

suicide is a case in point. H e welcomes the fact that death is so easy. Suicide is not only a way of escaping a life which is intolerable, but more importantly a way to escape the hold that others have over you; it is an assertion of human freedom: 'the best thing which eternal law ever ordained was that it allowed to us one entrance into life, but many exits' (Epistles L X X , ' O n the Proper T i m e to Slip the Cable', II.57-73, and L X X V I I , ' O n T a k i n g One's O w n Life', II.169-81). Seneca describes a 'lovely dream' in which 'I was already weary of myself, beginning already to despise the fragments of my shattered existence, and feeling that I was destined to pass over into that infinity of time and the heritage of eternity' (III.169). According to J . M . Rist, Seneca abandons the older Stoic view that life and death are equally matters of indifference: 'Fundamentally Seneca's wise man is in love with death. H e is looking for a tolerable pretext to die' (p. 249).

M a r c u s Aurelius: the seduction o f oblivion Increasingly in the Western philosophical tradition, mutability comes to involve a profound experience of loss which inflects everything, including our very identity - our essence or lack of it. Freud wrote of an encounter with a famous poet afflicted with an 'aching despondency' at life's mutability: everything seemed beyond enjoyment because always on the edge of oblivion. That the beauty around h i m , 'like all human beauty, and all the beauty and splendour that men have created or may create', was 'fated to extinction' meant that it became 'shorn of its worth by the transience which was its d o o m ' (below, Chapter 14). Whereas for this poet mutability and transience were the problem, for ancient philosophers like the Stoic Marcus Aurelius ( A D 121-80) they were, in a sense, the solution. Marcus Aurelius, who has been described as the last Stoic, builds a whole philosophy of life upon the perception and the acceptance of, even the yearning for, oblivion. He seemingly regards mutability and loss with complete equanimity. It's true that this is in part because of a belief in the ultimate unity of nature ( M e d i t a t i o n s , IV.4off; VII.9, 19), the sustaining power of 32

C H A N G E

A N D

LOSS

IN

T H E

A N C I E N T

W O R L D

'inwardness', and the importance of living virtuously - that is, in accord with 'truth and justice' (VI.47). But these beliefs are hardly the comforting ones of Christianity — there is no anthropomorphic projection, no insistence on immortality or an afterlife of any k i n d . The real consolation seems to be oblivion itself. We live for an instant, only to be swallowed in 'complete forgetfulness and the void of infinite time on this side of us and on that' (IV.3). M a r c u s Aurelius repeatedly invites contemplation of the lives of those now dead, not w i t h the aim of historical empathy, but to meditate on their insignificance in order to gain a historical and existential indication of one's o w n . H e sees transience in the struggle of daily life — 'think how many ere now, after passing their life in implacable enmity, suspicion, hatred . . . are now dead and burnt to ashes' (IV.3). N o matter how powerful they were, nothing, but nothing, of these people now remains, and even the memory of them w i l l soon evaporate. N o t even legend is immortal; it too sinks into 'absolute oblivion' (IV.32, 33; VI.37). The life of each of us is always almost over, and our name w i l l survive not at all or only for a while, and even then as 'a far off echo' (II.6; V.33). In a little while we w i l l have forgotten all the w o r l d , and the w o r l d us (VII.21). Nowhere before this is the ephemeral, transient nature of life so extensively discerned: O f the life of man the duration is but a point, its substance streaming away, its perception d i m , the fabric of the entire body prone to decay, and the soul a vortex, and fortune incalculable, and fame uncertain. In a w o r d all things of the body are as a river, and the things of the soul as a dream and a vapour; and life is a warfare and a pilgrim's sojourn, and fame after death is only forgetfulness. (II. 17)

The essence of the universe is mutability: everything existing 'is already disintegrating and changing . . . everything is by nature made but to die' (X.18). This means that we too are in perpetual transformation and decay, and that each change is a kind of death (IX.19, 21), and everything that now exists is, in its dissolution, the seed of that which w i l l eventually exist (IV.36). Crucially, there is no evil in change (II. 17; IV.42), but the fact of perpetual change requires us to scorn everything that is mortal (IX.28), and its study is 'conducive to greatness of m i n d ' , including the commitment to 'justice in all present 33

DEATH,

DESIRE

AND

LOSS

IN

WESTERN

CULTURE

acts and contentment with [our] present lot' ( X I I ) . The length of one's life is irrelevant: 'For look at the yawning gulf of T i m e behind thee, and before thee at another Infinity to come. In this Eternity the life of a baby of three days and the life of a Nestor of three centuries are as one' (IV.50). T o desire is to be permanently disappointed and disturbed, since everything we desire in this w o r l d is 'empty and corrupt and paltry' (XI.11; V.33). Death is the release from, among other things, 'the swayings of desire' (VI.28). Further, 'The act of dying too is one of the acts of life', and 'The fate of all things' is to be 'either etherealized into the Universal Substance, if that indeed be one, or dispersed

abroad'

(VI.2,4). Death is a dissolution, a return to a state of undifferentiation so complete that those who 'gaze upon the ruins of time w i l l be buried under them'; it is also a release, and a good (IX.33; VI.28, XII.23, 35), and 'it is no more a hardship for the coffer to be broken up than it was for it to be fitted together' (VII.23). Whereas birth is a combination of the elements, death is a dispersal of them; even the soul does not outlast the body, but lasts only for a while before being changed and diffused (IV.5,21). Repeatedly Marcus Aurelius remarks that either the universe is controlled by a providence, in which case 'you can suffer nothing', or it is not, in which case you might as well be rid of it: Either a medley and a tangled web, and a dispersion abroad, or a unity and a plan and a Providence. If the former, why should I even wish to abide in such a randon welter and chaos? W h y care for anything else than to turn again to the dust at last? W h y be disquieted? For, do what I w i l l , the dispersion must overtake me. But, if the latter, I b o w in reverence, my feet are on the rock, and I put my trust in the Power that rules. (VI.10; cf. II.11, IX.39)

Virtually everything else that Marcus Aurelius says supports the first of these possibilities: the rock of trust - even trust itself - is as transient as everything else. Yet from all this M a r c u s Aurelius derives a philosophy of inner detachment and virtue. T o a modern reader this can seem strange: nothing endures, yet there is a principle of reason governing the universe. A n d the rational virtue that man is urged to seek has no support beyond the very self which is fleeting and unreal and inadequate to the task. Even more perplexing is that with Marcus Aurelius 34

C H A N G E A N D LOSS IN T H E A N C I E N T W O R L D

w e a g a i n c o n f r o n t the r e m a r k a b l e fact t h a t this is a p h i l o s o p h y o f renunciation

w r i t t e n f r o m the

centre

o f events.

Seneca

was

emperor's right-hand m a n ; M a r c u s Aurelius was an emperor

an

whose

M e d i t a t i o n s w e r e p r o b a b l y w r i t t e n d u r i n g the last years o f his l i f e , w h e n he w a s c o n f r o n t e d w i t h a series o f disasters, i n c l u d i n g p l a g u e and

i n s u r r e c t i o n , a n d e n g a g e d i n c o n s t a n t m i l i t a r y struggles a n d the

persecution of Christians. T h e M e d i t a t i o n s

w e r e p o s s i b l y n o t even

i n t e n d e d to be r e a d b y a n y o n e else. T h i s p h i l o s o p h y o f

detachment

and

v i r t u e , t h i s insistence o n the i n s i g n i f i c a n c e o f w o r l d l y a f f a i r s ,

did

n o t d i m i n i s h the a p p a r e n t n e e d f o r the m i l i t a r y a c t i o n a n d the

p e r s e c u t i o n . T o the e x t e n t t h a t the i n n e r d e t a c h m e n t

generates a

d i f f e r e n t a n d s u p e r i o r p e r s p e c t i v e o n the w o r l d - a k i n d o f i n d i f f e r e n c e - it c o u l d be r e g a r d e d as a n a t t i t u d e n o t o n l y c o m p a t i b l e w i t h the b r u t a l i t i e s o c c u r r i n g i n the w o r l d , b u t a l s o s a n c t i o n i n g t h e m . W e

find

t h i s i n c r e a s i n g l y i n later c e n t u r i e s : a n a t t i t u d e w h i c h p r i m a facie entails r e n u n c i a t i o n a c t u a l l y c o e x i s t s w i t h a n d r e i n f o r c e s a c u l t u r e o f quest and

domination.

35

2 ' A l l W o r d s Fail through Weariness : 5

Ecclesiastes

Perhaps the most hauntingly lyrical of all meditations on the interweaving of death, desire and mutability is Ecclesiastes. Its main theme is the transience and futility of human endeavour: 'I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit' (1:14, A V ) . In the Ecclesiastes of the Authorized 1

Version of the Bible, the w o r d 'vanity' recurs around forty times. It has become t h e w o r d to express that welding together in one experience of transience and futility. The Hebrew w o r d is hébel, which means vapour - that which is unsubstantial, momentary and profitless, fleeting as a breath, and amounting to nothing: T h e traditional translation 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity', can be freely expanded to read: 'Everything in life is h o l l o w and utterly futile; it is the thinnest of vapors, fleeting as a breath, and amounts to nothing.' (Scott, p. 202)

Often hébel is conjoined with the phrase 'grasping at the w i n d ' : again inanimate nature, even as it becomes the breath of life, epitomizes futility. H u m a n life passes 'like a shadow' (6:12, Scott). N o t only human 2

life, but all animate things dissolve into an oblivion which is confirmed in the larger natural order, not only in its long-term effects but in its ever-present moment; it is as if the writer can hear oblivion in the w i n d and see it in the rivers: B l o w i n g toward the south and veering toward the north, ever circling goes the w i n d , returning upon its tracks. A l l the rivers flow continually to the sea, but the sea does not become full; whither the rivers flow, they continue to

36

'

ALL

WORDS

FALL

THROUGH

WEARINESS':ECCLESIASTES

flow. All words fail through weariness, a man becomes speechless; the eye cannot see it all, nor the ear hear the end of it. (1:6-8, Scott) For us, more than two millennia later, our horizons of oblivion have extended; now they are thought of in terms of the truly incomprehensible: cosmic distance and cosmic time, the silent spaces between the stars. Yet we still hear oblivion in the monotony of the w i n d , and without ever hearing the end of it. This is not a romantic view of inanimate nature (that is, a view of nature as that w i t h which mind or spirit might correspond or merge); nor is it about finding i n natural continuity the quasi-religious reassurance of an eternity in mutability. The romantic sensibility w i l l at times try to tame this sense of nature as o b l i v i o n , only to find it re-emerging inside itself. This sense also remains significant i n formative (and very different) modernist texts. At the risk of another jarring juxtaposition, I again want to glance forward, briefly.

H e a r i n g the

wind

Shelley in ' O n Love' remarks that when feeling alienated from human k i n d we turn to inanimate nature for solace; then the sound of the w i n d and of rivers is profoundly inspiriting: ' i n the motion of the very leaves of spring in the blue air there is then found a secret correspondence w i t h our heart. There is eloquence in the tongueless w i n d and a melody in the flowing of brooks.' These things, by some 'inconceivable relation to something w i t h i n the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathless rapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes' (p. 861). But often mysticism finds, at the heart of the transcendence it craves, not the life source so much as stasis, unity and oblivion. A n d some of the greatest romantic — and modernist - literature is about the failure or absence of this desired correspondence w i t h nature, and a feeling of alienation not dissimilar to that found in Ecclesiastes. Shelley's o w n A d o n a i s is an invitation to death, as i n a very different way are the 'rioting invasion of soundless life' that Conrad's M a r l o w encounters in Africa (below, Chapter 10) and the mutability which V i r g i n i a W o o l f evokes in T o t h e L i g h t h o u s e :

37

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

In spring the garden urns, casually filled w i t h w i n d - b l o w n plants, were gay as ever. Violets came and daffodils. But the stillness and the brightness of the day were as strange as the chaos and tumult of night, w i t h the trees standing there, and the flowers standing there, l o o k i n g before them, l o o k i n g up, yet beholding nothing, eyeless, and so terrible, (p. 147)

The section of the novel in which these lines occur, ' T i m e Passes', is one of the most powerful evocations of inanimate nature - the blindness behind the beauty, the silence inside the movement, 'the fertility, the insensibility of nature' (p. 150). This is not a godless nature; it is far beyond that. Darkness descends, and the sea cannot be distinguished from the land. The lights are extinguished, and with 'a thin rain drumming on the roof a down-pouring of immense darkness began', unhurriedly but exhaustively dissolving all material forms and human identities. O n the beach in this darkness the sleepless w i l l find no harmony with nature; c o n t r a Shelley, there is nothing here to make 'the w o r l d reflect the compass of the soul' (p. 140). The noise of the rain and the surf speak only silence. Residual human activity is insignificant: M r Carmichael stays up longer than the others, reading V i r g i l . Finally he too puts out the light; nearby, M r s Ramsay dies. The house is closed up, the weeks turn to months and 'the silence . . . week after week, in the empty r o o m , wove into itself the falling cries of birds, ships hooting, the drone and hum of the fields, a dog's bark, a man's shout': ' O n l y the Lighthouse beam entered the rooms for a moment, sent its sudden stare over bed and w a l l in the darkness of winter' (pp. 141-2, 150). Years later the house is opened up again; those who have survived return, but still they are surrounded by the silence of inanimate nature which seems the louder inside the human habitat, inside the walls that w o u l d keep it out (p. 155). F r o m its o w n time onwards Ecclesiastes has been regarded as one of the most heretical books in the Bible. Certainly it diverges quite radically from, and even repudiates, some of the fundamental tenets of other biblical writers, most notable the idea of a divine purpose revealed to man. In Ecclesiastes G o d is unknowable, and the insistence that 'there is nothing new under the sun' (1:9, Scott) w o u l d seem to preclude the idea of divine providence, or at least providential

38

' A L L

W O R D S

F A I L

T H R O U G H

W E A R I N E S S ' :

E C C L E S I A S T E S

intervention. It is as if an inscrutable G o d has deliberately created a universe devoid of himself; one in which there is no discernible moral law, and where eternity is ultimately the darkness of death and, more immediately, the permanent, restless yet monotonous movement of inanimate nature, whose immense scale only emphasizes the brevity and insubstantiality of human life. For these reasons alone the inclusion of Ecclesiastes in the canons of Judaism and of Christianity has long been regarded as inexplicable. It was probably written around 250 B C , and possibly by more than one writer, although it is generally agreed that the main part of the text was written by someone called Qoheleth (about w h o m little is known). Some inconsistency in the text may be due to later editorial interventions by others, intended to counter Qoheleth's more extreme statements. Some scholars have detected the influence of Greek philosophy, but even if this is so, it w o u l d only have been indirect. Its more obvious sources include the so-called wisdom movement of the N e a r East, whose literature has fascinating similarities to yet much older Egyptian and Mesopotamian thought. One strand of this movement broods on the meaning of life, especially as revealed in the fact of undeserved suffering, and inclines towards a radical, pessimistic questioning of cultural and religious orthodoxy - such as is found in Ecclesiastes and J o b . W e discern in this movement something like the death-wish, if by that is meant a desire not to be alive. Ecclesiastes declares that the dead are more fortunate than the living, and he who has not yet been born is still more fortunate (4:2-3). A stillborn child is better off than one who lives in misery: T h o u g h its c o m i n g is futile and it departs i n darkness, though its name is hidden i n darkness and it has no burial place; though it never saw the sun nor knew anything — it rests more peacefully than he. (6:4—5, Scott)

T h i s compares w i t h Job's cry: W h y died I not from the womb? . . . F o r n o w I should have lain still and been quiet. I should have slept: then had I been at rest, W i t h kings and counsellers of the earth, w h i c h built desolate places for themselves . . . there the weary be at rest . . . There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor. T h e small and great are there; and the servant is free f r o m his master. (3:11 -19) 39

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

A n d both Ecclesiastes and Job echo a much earlier text in the wisdom tradition, called ' A Dispute over Suicide'. This is thought to date from the end of the third millennium BC (Pritchard), which means that the death-wish perhaps found cultural expression at least four thousand years ago. Another point worth nothing is that the period to which ' A Dispute over Suicide' is attributed, between the O l d and M i d d l e Kingdoms, was an especially disturbed one, when established values had broken down. The work, part of which is missing, laments the collapse of all social values and the alienating isolation of the individual which results; a recurring refrain is ' T o w h o m can I speak today?' The speaker is weary of his life and debates with his soul whether he should end it: Death is i n my sight today L i k e the odour of m y r r h L i k e sitting under an awning on a breezy day. Death is i n my sight today L i k e the odour of lotus blossoms, L i k e sitting on the bank of drunkenness. Death is in my sight today

Like the passing

away

of rain,

L i k e the return of men to their houses from an expedition. Death is in my sight today L i k e the clearing of the sky, L i k e a man f o w l i n g t h e r e b y for what he knew not. Death is i n my sight today L i k e the longing of a man to see his house (again), After he has spent many years held i n captivity.

(Pritchard, p. 407)

3

Returning to Ecclesiastes, we also find something anticipating the impossibility or futility of desire - that sense that our wants are intrinsically incapable of satisfaction - epitomized in the descriptions of men who labour endlessly but who cannot be satisfied with their riches, or who have everything but can enjoy nothing (4:8; 6;z). Qoheleth tells us that he too has amassed silver and gold, built houses, gardens and parks, possessed more cattle than anyone else, 40

' A L L

W O R D S

F A I L

T H R O U G H

W E A R I N E S S ' :

E C C L E S I A S T E S

and purchased slaves. H e became greater than anyone else, even to being able to have anything he desired. But all this was 'futility and a grasping at the w i n d ' (2:11, Scott). In short, ' H e that loveth silver shall not be satisfied w i t h silver; nor he that loveth abundance w i t h increase'; man's wants 'are never satisfied' (5:10, A V ; 6:7, Scott). Death is the great leveller (2:16). The positive notes in Ecclesiastes add up to a resigned, undefiant, form of carpe diem which w i l l be echoed by non-religious or agnostic writers through the centuries: true wisdom recognizes that 'For w i t h more w i s d o m comes more worry, and he who adds to his knowledge adds to his pain' (1:18, Scott); true wisdom leads one back to the simple things i n life, which one then ceases to take for granted and understands properly for the first time. Be grateful for being alive, no matter h o w briefly; enjoy the pleasures of life, even though they are outnumbered by sorrow (11:7-10). In short: 'eat and drink and be happy' for t o m o r r o w we w i l l die (8:15, Scott). Ecclesiastes accepts life without understanding it. A n d w o r k too: satisfaction can be found in it, not from the profit it brings, but simply i n the doing of it (3:13). But this commitment to w o r k is definitely not praxis: that is, optimistic, energetic engagement i n order to change things fundamentally. Qoheleth is fatalistic, both metaphysically and socially. N o t h i n g can be changed, not even - especially not - social injustice. In this respect it is important to note that Qoheleth does not, like some other biblical writers (e.g. Isaiah), identify w i t h the oppressed. H i s social fatalism may be a corollary of his general philosophy, but we can legitimately speculate w i t h Scott that it is also a consequence of the fact that Qoheleth 'was one of the leisured beneficiaries of the social system' (p. 200), w h o , as we saw, once sought happiness in wealth and excess (2:1-11). A g a i n we are led to reflect on the fact that the philosophical meditation on death frequently occurs not only in times of acute crisis, but also among those who are privileged educationally, economically and in other respects. T i m e and again the benefits of privilege - wealth, property, power, pleasure — w i l l be attacked as especially worthless; less often w i l l they be given up. Seneca, as we saw earlier, is only one of the most notorious cases in point, and a reminder that it is i n the nature of privilege that it takes itself for granted, even when under attack from itself. 41

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

A t the end of Ecclesiastes is the familiar paradox of c a r p e

diem

literature: on the one hand, we must live spontaneously in the here and now, forgetful of future oblivion; on the other, to live fully in the here and now we must remember impending oblivion. Yet for some, including the poet and the philosopher, to remember oblivion is to be tormented by it - even to the point of being unable to live. Hence the attraction of those who live spontaneously. Y o u t h and spontaneity are attractive to those who lack both; they come to be revered from the position of irrevocable loss. In Ecclesiastes we are told to be happy 'remembering that the days of darkness w i l l be many, and what lies ahead is o b l i v i o n ' , and a young man is invoked and urged to revel spontaneously in his youth: 'Banish care from your mind . . . for dark-haired youth is fleeting.' But then, immediately, 'In the days of your youth, remember your grave.' This line marks the beginning of the remarkable poem which ends Ecclesiastes, which can see the present only in relation to its passing, which looks into the bustle of the living moment only to see future death and loss: 'The pitcher shattered at the spring, / A n d the water wheel broken at the cistern' (12:6, Scott).

42

3 Escaping Desire: Christianity, Gnosticism and Buddhism

By the time of the early Christian ascetics, mutability has become savage; n o w , inextricably bound up w i t h sin, it is the active agent of death, w h i c h is now located firmly i n s i d e desire. A secular repudiation of the Christian idea of sin has resulted in a secular misunderstanding of it, and a failure to realize the extent to which the psychology of sin, far from being cast off w i t h the religion which invented it, still informs contemporary culture. The underlying significance of sin i n Western culture is a paradoxical one: the concept of sin becomes culturally prominent as human beings begin to take responsibility for what they cannot, as well as what they can, control; there is a sense in which the idea of sin, even at its most abject, is hubristic. W h e n the innocent submit to guilt and remorse, they can strangely empower and energize themselves through the very abjection which is also the expression of their impotence. In recent times the Christian association of sex, sin and death has been most visible i n the fundamentalist claim that A I D S is God's or nature's way of taking revenge upon the supposed sinfulness and unnaturalness of homosexuality. But it w o u l d be wrong to assume this is Christianity's only legacy. There is another - one which is more theological and searching, which addresses the experience of desire's impossibility, and which remains the more active i n 'secular' culture for being largely unrecognized. In fact, whereas the strident fundamentalist belief i n death and illness as punishment for sin is irrelevant if not meaningless to most people living today, this other, more obscure, Christian sense of desire's impossibility speaks strangely, disturbingly, to many. F o r the early Christian Fathers there are three interrelated aspects 43

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

of the impossibility of desire: the vicious intimacy of desire with death, its experience as loss and lack, and the fact that it is beyond fulfilment. These are woven together in a vision which drives death into the heart of desire, and intensifies the perverse and paradoxical dynamic binding the two. The crucial idea behind all this is that death enters life with the Fall. M o r e exactly, it enters the w o r l d with sin and transgression (Genesis 3:16-19; Romans 5:12); as Aquinas puts it in S u m m a T h e o l o g i a e , not only is death the punishment for sin, but sin is the cause of death and of the disunity of human nature. Sin removed the 'original justice' which integrated the human subject, physically and spiritually. Without that justice 'not only did human nature suffer in the soul by disorder among [its] powers, but because of the body's disorder, it became subject likewise to corruption' (Aquinas, p. 452). Desire and especially sexual desire - is at the heart of this disorder. Sexuality comes with, or as a consequence of, death, as does the conflicted divide between the sexes (sexual difference), and even marriage, in the sense that marriage is necessitated by death and even perpetuates it; in the words of John Chrysostom (c. 347-407): 'marriage . . . springs from disobedience, from a curse, from death. For where death is, there is marriage' (p. 22). 'Marriage', writes T o n H . C. V a n Eijk, is 'the farthest degree of alienation from paradisiac life' (p. 230). V a n Eijk has summarized texts originating in a gnosticizing milieu in which marriage and desire 'are nearly exclusively linked with death'. In The Gospel of the Egyptians, for example, is the same idea that to procreate is to nourish death. T o abstain from procreation is to hasten the end of the w o r l d and

so defeat death. Typically it is woman who is held responsible

for perpetuating death, directly so by giving birth to that which must die,

but also symbolically in that the w o r l d and desire might be

described as female (pp. 209, 216-17). The more orthodox Christian view is that marriage, the institution of procreation, is connected with death mainly in that it is necessitated by it; death enters life at the Fall, and procreation compensates for it, both in the sense that the dead are replaced, but also in that procreation becomes a more than functional consolation for mortality. For

Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335—c 394) nature deceives us as to the

tragedy of life. We all k n o w and experience the evils of life, yet we 44

C H R I S T I A N I T Y ,

G N O S T I C I S M

A N D

B U D D H I S M

allow nature to delude us into underestimating their significance. M o s t especially a 'smouldering grief' haunts even - especially - the supreme advantages of life - wealth, youth, affection, glory, power, renown and more (p. 13). This grief is not merely what we feel when these joys end, as of course they must; rather, joy actually produces and intensifies this grief. There is the treachery and hatred which one person's happiness arouses i n others. But that's not the point; in fact, Gregory is prepared to assume for the sake of his argument that such treachery and hatred do not arise, since they are irrelevant to the fact that, for the happy, the very sweetness of their life is the fomenting of their grief. F o r as long as men, these m o r t a l and perishable creatures, exist and look u p o n the tombs of those f r o m w h o m they came into being, they have grief inseparably joined to their lives even if they take little notice of it. (p. 14)

Death eternally 'dissipates our present joy'. A n d if we could foresee the future, 'how frequent w o u l d be the race of deserters from marriage to virginity!' W e w o u l d see beauty, wealth, power persist for a short time only. A n d nor do these joys merely fade; more tormenting is the way they unstably mutate into their o w n opposites. This occurs because, through mutability, death is at w o r k in life, 'everywhere fastening itself upon each of our pleasures' (pp. 14,27). The bridegroom beholds his beloved only to shudder at the realization of her mortality and to realize that her beauty must come to nothing. A n d this realization is ever-present - a vivid, tormenting sense of the skull beneath the skin: 'in place of what he now beholds there w i l l be bones, disgusting and ugly, w i t h no trace, no reminder, no remains of this present blossoming'. In childbirth, what dominates is not the birth of the child but the fear of either the child's or the mother's death. A n d , if both mother and child are fortunate enough to live, there is the special heartache caused by a child's o w n vulnerability i n life — a heartache which the mother feels more than anyone. A n d then there is the grief of the bride who loses her husband - a grief which includes 'a longing for death, w h i c h often increases to the point of death i t s e l f . The only way to escape the evil of death 'is not to attach oneself to anything changeable' (pp. 14-17, 27). 45

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John Chrysostom also dwells on the misery of the mother who suffers herself the misfortunes which befall her family - 'her husband, her children . . . her children's wives and children. The more the root spreads out into more shoots, the more its cares abound' (p. 90). M o r e generally, 'the fear for the living that always unsettles the soul is no less than the grief for the dead'. In fact it is more severe, since time soothes one's grief for the dead, but anxiety for the living 'must either exist constantly or end in death alone' (p. 90). It is therefore without hesitation or apology that Gregory declares: the bodily procreation of children . . . is more an embarking upon death than upon life . . . C o r r u p t i o n has its beginning in birth and those who refrain from procreation through virginity themselves bring about a cancellation of death by preventing it from advancing further because of them . . . they keep death from going forward . . . Virginity is stronger than death . . . T h e unceasing succession of destruction and dying . . . is interrupted. Death, you see, was never able to be idle while human birth was going on in marriage, (pp. 48-9)

In life, desire, sexuality and even sexual difference are, for Gregory, what permit death to thrive. Therefore, to renounce them, especially through virginity, is to achieve a state in which 'the power of death is somehow shattered and destroyed'. The goal of true virginity is a freedom from death and mutability in order to be able to see G o d (pp. 42, 49). A g a i n , the grief of which Gregory speaks is not merely the consequence of joy eluding us or coming to an end; rather it is the experience of joy itself which has actually produced and intensifies this grief: 'the very sweetness of their life is the fomenting of their g r i e f . A g a i n , death is seen not simply as eventual demise, but as a devastating, living mutability which overdetermines life with a terrible sense of loss, and does so even or especially before anything has actually b e e n lost. M o d e r n readers may recoil in dismay, even anger, from this kind of pessimism. But it is too easy to dismiss Christian sexual renunciation as a squeamish, pathological or neurotic attitude to the body long since overcome in our own enlightened and secular times. It was not a fastidious puritanism on the question of sex that motivated Gregory and his like, and they sought not the repression of the sexual drive as 46

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such, but rather to be released from the ravaging effects of death, mutability and time both on desire and as desire: these things at once engender desire and render it impossible. A s Peter B r o w n reminds us in The Body and Society, death and mutability were starkly present at that time: this was a society 'more helplessly exposed to death than is even the most afflicted underdeveloped country in the modern w o r l d ' ; for the population of the R o m a n empire to remain even stationary it appears that each w o m a n w o u l d have had to bear an average of five children. A n d nor were the early Christians concerned solely w i t h the attempt to maximize control over the body (something also apparent in our o w n time, though pursued by different and more varied means). O n the contrary, sexual renunciation promised resurrection, the abundance of peace which only the freedom from desire can afford, and the prospect that 'even the rigid boundaries between the sexes might trickle away i n the liquid gold of a " s p i r i t u a l " body'. In short it constituted 'a heroic and sustained attempt . . . to map out the horizons of human freedom. The light of a great hope of future transformation glowed behind even the most austere statements of the ascetic position.' A n d ascetic preaching threatened to overturn the traditional structures of urban society; it was perceived as endangering the institutions of slavery and of private wealth, denying the subjection of women, and obliterating social distinctions: 'women and slaves w o u l d appear dressed alike, their social status and their sex obliterated by a common dress'. Further, 'for young males . . . to meditate sexual renunciation was to meditate social extinction' (Brown, pp. 2 8 6 - 8 , 298, 442). T o dismiss these aspects of early Christian history as entirely due to a squeamish attitude to the body is just ignorant. W i t h o u t doubt, these early Christians were, in their o w n way, sexually as well as socially dissident - something lost in 1

the bland apologetics of modern Christianity.

Drawing

death

from

our origin:

Augustine

In Augustine (354-430) we encounter an account of desire and death which is as severe as it is paradoxical. The human subject is somehow made responsible for a contradictory injunction from G o d : 47

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Then it was said to man: 'Thou shalt die if thou sin'; now it is said to the martyr: 'Die to avoid sin.' Then: 'If you break M y laws, you shall die'; now: 'If you refuse to die, you break M y laws.' That which we feared then if we offended, we must now choose, not to offend . . . Then did sin purchase death, and now death purchases righteousness . . . (City

of G o d , trans.

Healey, 13.4) Chapter 11 of Book 13 of T h e C i t y of G o d is entitled 'Whether One may be Living and Dead both Together' - a consideration introduced by the previous chapter's contention that mortal life might rather be called death than life, since ' O u r whole life is nothing but a course unto death.' This is not death as culminating event: we are just as close to death now as we are tomorrow or next year, because 'every man

[is] i n death as soon as ever he is conceived' (my emphasis).

Death is in process every day, every hour, every minute, pervading life as the principle of mutability, and it 'is so grievous unto us, as neither tongue can tell nor reason avoid' (13.11). Death infects desire because it was born in the transgressive passion of our first parents. G o d warned A d a m that if he ate of the forbidden fruit 'thou shalt surely die' (Genesis 2:17). A d a m d i d eat, of course, and

this 'concupiscential disobedience' henceforth bound man 'to

death by necessity]' ( C i t y of G o d , 13.3); he became the slave to death. Augustine is relentless in driving the point home: death, he says, is 'propagated' by man. Death and sexual desire are inseparable, and they ravage mankind because of the sins of our first parents. For the rest of history, for all subsequent generations, this first transgression leads the flesh to contend forever against the spirit, 'and with this contention are we all born, d r a w i n g d e a t h f r o m o u r o r i g i n ' , and we experience both that conflict and the pain of death as desire. Augustine leaves no room for doubt: death, mortality and desire infected the human semen which then existed, and they remain in it from generation to generation (13.13-14; my emphasis). Furthermore, transgressive desire is a state of anarchy which generates the perpetual undoing of the self: Adam's first transgression meant that the soul forsakes G o d , this being the first death; but the soul also enters into a struggle with the flesh, a revolt through sexual lust which is experienced as a self-undoing which is another kind of death. Sexual

4

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pleasure 'assumes power not only over the whole body, and not only from outside, but also internally; it disturbs the whole man . . . So intense is the pleasure that when it reaches its climax there is an almost total extinction of mental alertness; the intellectual sentries, as it were, are overwhelmed' (14.16). Such is the radical, fallen mutability of desire, epitomized in the 'unclean motion of the generative parts', in disorderly and ugly movements - especially the unruly male erection: The motion will be sometimes importunate against his will, and sometimes immovable when it is desired, and being fervent in the mind, yet will be frozen in the body. Thus wondrously does this lust fail man . . . sometimes resisting the restraint of the whole mind, and sometimes opposing itself by being wholly in the mind and in no way in the body at the same time.

(14.16)

Desire is not only 'totally opposed to the mind's control, [but] quite often divided against i t s e l f (14.16, trans. Bettenson). This was paramount for Augustine; sexual desire is a form of helplessness, a terrible, impossible craving that consumes and reduces the subject to misery. The modern reader who finds Augustine's theology alien or reprehensible may yet recognize the experience of mutability which impelled h i m to it: wretched is every soul bound by the love of perishable things; he is torn asunder when he loses them, and then he feels the wretchedness, which was there even before he lost them. (4.6; my emphasis) For the last twelve years of his life Augustine engaged in a bitter dispute w i t h Julian of Eclanum, defending his o w n severe interpretation of the Fall against the latter's more benign views. Augustine reiterated the fundamental point: death and sexual desire are forms of punishment which man brought upon himself. Neither is 'natural'. Original sin changed the nature of nature itself. A l l are affected, all guilty. The human condition is helpless and miserable, ravaged by death and desire, yet we remain quintessentially responsible. W e cannot choose but to suffer in our desires, and die, but it is our fault. J u l i a n of Eclanum felt that this account undermined the belief that the w o r l d which G o d created is essentially good, and that man, even

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in his fallen condition, remains a part of a positive and innocent natural order - albeit one which includes death and sexual desire and also that man retains free w i l l . Augustine w o n the argument and, as Elaine Pagels points out in her account of this dispute, his views not only became the dominant influence on Western Christianity, both Catholic and Protestant, but deeply influenced Western culture, Christian or not, and most particularly in its attitudes to suffering, death and desire (pp. x x v i - x x v i i ; Chapter 6 p a s s i m ) . In effect Augustine was arguing that human beings are incapable of self-government; the ravages of death, desire and sin generally are too great. The growing acceptance of his view coincided with Christianity ceasing to be a persecuted movement and becoming the official religion of authorities governing vast and diffuse populations. A n d yet, as Pagels also remarks, the requirements of an authoritarian state for ideological means of social control cannot explain the subsequent survival and influence of these views: 'were it not that people often w o u l d r a t h e r f e e l g u i l t y t h a n h e l p l e s s . . . I suspect the idea of original sin w o u l d not have survived the fifth century' (p. 146). O f course it d i d , along with the acute sense of life itself as a form of death. C a l v i n , one of the most influential figures in the Protestant reformation which so profoundly shaped modern European culture, is, if anything, even more emphatic than the early Church Fathers. Because human desire is a permanent source of misery, he says in his I n s t i t u t e s (1536), and because residence in the w o r l d is 'but immersion in death', we must 'ardently long for death, and constantly meditate upon it' (III.ix.4).

The

cause o fdeath

is love:

Gnosticism

Existing alongside the official Christian C h u r c h , but also infiltrating, influencing and challenging it, was Gnosticism. Its adherents believed that the material w o r l d was created by an evil demiurge and must be rejected; the body itself was regarded as a k i n d of grave, a corpse endowed with sense; a precondition for uniting with a divine source of knowledge or g n o s i s is that we escape from

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this fabric of ignorance, this support of wickedness, this bondage of corruption, this cloak of darkness, this living death, this sensate corpse, this tomb you carry around with you . . . (Hermetica, Tractate VII; in Grant, p. 224) Such a view of the body and mortal existence generally meant that redemption in this w o r l d was impossible. This led to unorthodoxy, especially in morality, where freedom from conventional behaviour was claimed, and deliberate transgression was sometimes advanced. The treatise called Poimandres

(probably dating from the second

century) offers a version of the death/desire connection rather different from anything encountered so far. It presents primal man as dual in nature, both mortal and immortal. This is because a divine creation was followed by a fall into nature. M i n d , 'which is G o d , being both male and female . . . gave birth to a man like h i m s e l f . But man broke free of the realm of mind and reason, inclining towards the lower w o r l d of nature, and revealing to that w o r l d , in the form of himself, the beauty of G o d . H a v i n g beheld 'the never satiating beauty of [man]', seeing his 'wonderfully beautiful form reflected in the water, and his shadow on the earth', Nature fell in love. M a n , having seen in Nature 'this form like himself, reflected in the water', reciprocated. Thereafter man, unlike all other creatures of earth, is of a dual nature - immortal because of his origins, mortal because of his descent into nature: 'though he is superior to the framework, he has become a slave in it'. H e is immortal because of his control over all things, mortal because subject to destiny (Poimandres,

in Grant, pp. 213-14). Here, appar-

ently, is a precursor of the Narcissus myth. Hans Jonas comments: the revealing of [man's] divine form from on high to terrestrial Nature is at the same time its mirroring in the lower elements, and by his own beauty thus appearing to him from below he is drawn downward, (p. 161) Also apparent in this idea of a fall into nature through imagereflection is the Gnostic dialectic between Light and Darkness, itself very suggestive for the death/desire dialectic. Jonas finds three characteristic ideas here: first, the Darkness becomes enamoured of the Light and gets possession of a part of it; second, the Light becomes enamoured of the Darkness and voluntarily sinks into it; third, and most intriguingly, a ray of the Light is projected into the Darkness

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is there held fast - the Light becomes trapped by the Darkness it

illuminates. P o i m a n d r e s declares that man was also 'created male and female because of his derivation from the bisexual Father' (Grant, p. 214). Eventually, however, this bisexual unity, and indeed 'the bond uniting all things', was broken by G o d . The text continues: For all living creatures, previously bisexual, were parted, as was man; they became on the one hand male, on the other female. At once God spoke by a holy word [Logos],

'Increase and multiply, all creatures and creations, and

let him who has a mind recognize himself as immortal, and k n o w that cause

of death

the

is l o v e , and know all the things that exist.' (p. 215; my

emphasis) 'And

k n o w that the cause of death is love' - originally the love which

drew man into his affair w i t h Nature. Eros, which is not only sexual love, but worldly desire more generally, ensnares man in the w o r l d while not itself being exclusively of the w o r l d , also belonging to the sphere of darkness and death. Here is a Gnostic, largely non-Christian version of the inflection of desire by death, and of the former's impossibility: 'he who has loved the body, which comes from the deceit of love, remains wandering in the darkness, suffering in his senses the things of death'. The body also derives from 'that abhorrent darkness . . . by which death is nourished'. T o the man who submits to it, desire proves self-destructive; such a man 'does not cease having a desire for his limitless appetites, insatiably fighting in the dark, and this torments h i m and increases the fire upon h i m ' (pp. 216-17). There are similarities here with Aristophanes' myth in T h e

Sym-

p o s i u m and the Christian narrative of the Fall. First, there is the transition from unity to division; second, in relation to that division, the experience of desire as loss and absence and the compulsion to reunite; third, desire as the perpetuation of loss, and even (or especially) of death. H a v i n g said that, no account of such remote philosophies should underestimate their strangeness for the modern Western reader. Reading them now is sometimes to experience the uncanny in an almost Freudian sense - that is, to encounter something more or less strange yet somehow also obscurely familiar. This is especially so with Gnosticism and Buddhism, but also with some of the Greeks, 52

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and the early Christian writers. It is also the case that what we encounter here are not origins or direct influences in the sense of ideas which can be confidently identified as embryonic for later forms; nor is it a matter of confidently retracing a process of development. Philosophies like Gnosticism exist i n the region of a past horizon, which is to say a horizon we cannot get back to and which becomes ever more distant. Such horizons mark a limit of what we can see and k n o w . The only thing we can say for certain about them is that there is something beyond them which we can never reach. So when I talk of 'Western culture' I do not mean a bounded entity culturally distinct from other cultural entities adjacent or prior to it, but something with shifting horizons, shifting limits perceived hesitantly and distantly from inside rather than confidently from without. Often we k n o w that there were once routes across to what is n o w perceived as different and alien. M a y b e they just ceased to be used, or they may have been violently closed. Whatever, let us not sentimentalize the past by assuming peaceful and harmonious coexistence; human wars have done the w o r k of time i n advance, and cultural interaction has always involved cultural struggle. Somewhat similarly, ideas are not the sole invention of individuals. Even the most seemingly original and important writers are often rearticulating ideas already circulating within their culture, responding, but also contributing, to cultural changes which bring those ideas into renewed prominence. Individual writers are the focus for something that existed before them but which they rearticulate in ways which have profound, inestimable effects upon the subsequent history of thought. A g a i n , the process has often been violent, or at the very least has involved appropriation, suppression and distortion.

The

illusion

of the self:

Buddhism

If, as recent research suggests, Gnosticism was more influential i n the ancient w o r l d that was once thought, it is also possible that Gnosticism 2

may itself have been influenced by Buddhism. Certainly there are similarities — especially in the conviction that desire or craving is the fundamental cause of suffering in a radically mutable w o r l d . A t the 53

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same time, Buddhism's differences from Western Christianity are equally, if not more, significant - not least concerning the self, sin and striving. Siddhartha Gautama (560-477BC) was a prince who, because of his high privilege, encountered suffering and death relatively late in life. Legend tells us that when he did eventually encounter them the trauma was the greater, and changed his life: he became Buddha, the Enlightened One. In the religion he founded, life is experienced as a permanent

intrinsic unsatisfactoriness

manifested

as

suffering

( d u k k h a ) and pain: birth is painful, old age is painful, sickness is painful, death is painful, sorrow, lamentation, dejection, and despair are painful. Contact w i t h unpleasant things is painful, not getting what one wishes is painful. In short the five groups of grasping [the elements, s k a n d h a s , which make up a person] are painful. ('Sermon at Benares', i n Burtt, p. 30)

Everything about life involves suffering and dissatisfaction, a sense of lack. If we strive to overcome that lack we fail, and suffering becomes marked by a renewed craving, now intensified by an acute sense of loss. Suffering derives directly from the fact that e v e r y t h i n g that exists is radically mutable. In particular, happiness, if it is achieved, cannot last. Suffering haunts happiness from the outside and the inside. Where Buddhism differs from Western religions is in the full acceptance of mutability; happiness lies in achieving that acceptance. Suffering is perpetuated by, and inseparable from, ignorance, and mitigated by wisdom. The deepest ignorance is to fail to see, or to disavow, the fact that everything that exists is mutable and transient. The force of this position may be seen, again, in contrast with Christianity; for the Buddhist the source of suffering is ignorance rather than sin. A n d the real source of suffering is desire (kama)

or craving ( t a n h a ,

literally 'thirst'), both of which are intrinsic to, constitutive of, humankind. There is a Buddhist doctrine of 'conditioned arising' or 'dependent origination' which asserts that everything that exists is dependent on certain prevailing conditions; nothing is i n t r i n s i c a l l y self-sufficient, independent or stable. This is especially true of selfhood. Buddhism completely denies the idea of a transcendent or autonomous self so 54

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powerful i n Western religion and philosophy. T o believe that there is some essential inner self or consciousness which is the real me, ultimately identifiable apart from everything that happens to me, is an illusion: What we call a personality is just an individual stream of becoming; a cross-section of it at any given moment in an aggregate of the

five

skandhas

which (as long as it continues) are in unstable and unceasing interaction with each other, (p. 86) There is no T . Even to believe in an T which possesses emotions (albeit helplessly) is mistaken. One of the problems w i t h desire, and why it cannot make us happy, is that it presupposes a self which does not exist; at the core of our being we are empty. Everything that constitutes the individual is marked by the unsatisfactoriness and suffering which is d u k k h a . N o r is there such a thing as the soul. The person is only a fleeting series of discontinuous states held together by desire, by craving. When desire is extinguished the person is dissolved. Since life and suffering are synonymous, the extinction of desire is the goal of human endeavour. Until that happens we continue to exist through a series of rebirths. It is not death as such which is deplored, but rebirth; it is not death but rebirth which we must escape. So much so that in some early texts rebirth is described as 'redeath'. Desire perpetuates life, which is synonymous w i t h suffering, and which leads to death. Desire perpetuates death; it keeps one dying. The self is merged w i t h ultimate reality not by identifying the core of the self (soul/essence) with ultimate reality (God/the universal) but by extinguishing self into non-being (nirvana). This is the aspect of Buddhism which has fascinated Western philosophers like Schopenhauer and artists like Wagner; with whatever degree of misinterpretation, they have been drawn by the ideas of empowerment through renunciation, nullification and quiescence; of the apparent ability to move freely w i t h the mutability and change which are the apparent cause of suffering; of choosing freely not to pursue the illusion of freedom, in a sense to eliminate the illusion of self; of becoming discontinuous, mindless. N o t to escape mutability but to become it; not to just go w i t h the flow of endless change, but to become it. T o achieve the state of nirvana - that is, a state of being which is essentially 55

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empty of desire and striving. The wisdom of Buddhism does not desire to transcend change or to affirm an essential ultimate relationship of self to the absolute and unchanging (Platonic forms, the Christian God); nor does the Buddhist desire to die or to cease to be (the death drive): he or she does not desire annihilation but rather learns how to cease desiring. N i r v a n a is the utter cessation of desire or craving; it means extinction.

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II MUTABILITY, M E L A N C H O L Y THE

AND

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4 Fatal Confusions: Sex and Death in Early M o d e r n Culture

T o k n o w how to live one must first k n o w how to die. T h i s , one of the recurring existential themes of the Western philosophical tradition, is already, by the early modern period, an inherited idea. But it is also most memorably expressed at that time. N o w one learns how to live by a profound meditation upon death, and even a renunciation of the very desire to live. But in that resignation there may be a k i n d of affirmation deriving from the acceptance of insignificance; death is understood as a material reality which levels social distinction by dissolving and obliterating all traces of human culture, or rather by reducing them to the most enduringly insignificant trace of all: dust. In this sense death is t h e reality principle, and meditation upon it reduces the individual to that silence which is our destiny, which signifies our insignificance while alive, and which is always materialized in the very immobility of the death's head itself. Provisional silence is the precondition of the meditative act, and a deeper silence is also its objective. A n d the death's head remains there still: reminding of life's brevity, but perhaps for that same reason being also the focus of a melancholy wonder at being alive at all. M e d i t a t i o n , however, is both about getting things clear and about losing the distracted, obsessive self which, increasingly in Western culture, was the presupposition of getting anything clear. W h i c h is one reason why we could never remain silent for long: we had to speak, or write, the meditation. Nevertheless, this still occurred with respect to the silence, just as lone individuals praying urgently whispered their message to G o d in the silence of the church, or the preacher declaims his message above that silence. O n l y the silence remains, in the transcendent stasis of stained-glass figures irradiated by light; most 59

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supremely in the divinely immobile, ecstatic image of Christ on the cross, whose pain promised eventual peace in redemption, the peace that passes all understanding, the peace of zero tension, the ultimate silence. But the speaking about death (epitomized, as we shall see, in John Donne declaiming in St Paul's against the dying life even as he is literally dying himself) moves increasingly centre stage. A l l this contrasts greatly with attitudes prevalent in our o w n times - although some of these can be traced back to this period. The philosopher Francis Bacon (1561-1626), who was also L o r d Chancellor under James I, wrote an essay ' O f Death' which treats its subject casually, even perfunctorily. H e considers that philosophers have tended to make too much of death - especially the Stoics, who 'by their great preparations made it appear more fearful' (p. 41). T o a great extent, says Bacon, death is man's creation. In tone the essay is rationalist, even proto-Enlightenment; Bacon wants to demystify death. Perhaps we can also detect here that attitude which, according to some, leads to a 'denial' of death in modern life (below, Chapter 8). Whatever, Bacon was a significant exception. For other writers, death could never be considered too much. Sir Thomas M o r e , in 'The Four Last Things', dwells on death w i t h the aim of renouncing desire. H e gives voice to that early modern concern to try to feel death 'on the pulse'. N o t h i n g , says M o r e , more effectively withdraws the soul from the 'wretched affections of the body than may the remembrance of death' — providing, that is, we 'remember it not hoverly [inattentively], as one heareth a w o r d and let it pass by his ear, without any receiving of the sentence [meaning] into his heart'. Language deceives even, or especially, as it means. W e must not only 'hear this w o r d " d e a t h " but also let sink into our hearts the very fantasy and deep imagination thereof. A n d nor are visual representations of death adequate (More had in mind the graphic 'Dance of Death'). The task is to introspect death, to discover that 'deep conceived fantasy of death in [one's] nature, by the lively imagination graven in thine o w n heart'. O n l y then do we realize that life is a k i n d of death, or rather 'one continual dying' (pp. 467—8).

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Montaigne The essays of Montaigne (1533-92) freely confess an obsession w i t h death. In his memorably entitled essay 'That to Philosophize is to Learn h o w to D i e ' (c. 1572) he announces, perhaps proudly and certainly without apology, 'Since my earliest days, there is nothing w i t h which I have occupied my mind more than w i t h images of death'; if anything this preoccupation was greatest in 'the most licentious season of my life'. This essay is indebted not just to Seneca but also 1

to other classical sources, especially Cicero and Lucretius, and shifts between different registers. In one place Montaigne asks, after Lucretius,

' W h y should we fear to lose a thing which once lost cannot be

regretted?'; yet a page later he is preoccupied w i t h a severe sense of death-in-life. Thus, citing M a n i l i u s ('Even in birth we die; the end is there from the start'), he adds, again after Lucretius, 'Death is the condition of your creation . . . The constant work of your life is to build death. Y o u are i n death while you are i n life . . . during life you are dying' ( C o m p l e t e E s s a y s , pp. 6 0 , 6 4 , 65). In

2

a later essay, ' O f Physiognomy', the emphasis is modified.

Whereas Montaigne had previously paraphrased Cicero approvingly ('to philosophize is nothing else but to prepare for death'), i n the later essay (c. 1585) the paraphrase is different ( ' T h e w h o l e life

of a

p h i l o s o p h e r is a m e d i t a t i o n o n d e a t h ' ) , as is Montaigne's gloss on it: n o w , to anticipate death too obsessively is to detract from life (pp. 56, 805).

Even more significant is that the severest formulation of all i n

the earlier essay - 'the goal of our career is death. It is the necessary object of our a i m ' (p. 57) - is repudiated in the later essay: 'death is indeed the end, but not therefore the goal, of life; it is its finish, its extremity, but not therefore its object. Life should be an aim unto itself . . .' (p. 805). Correspondingly, whereas the earlier essay's contention that death is the aim of life might be seen as an uncanny anticipation of Freud's death drive, encapsulated in 1919 in his proposition that 'The aim of all life is death' (below, Chapter 14), Montaigne's later repudiation of that proposition could also be read as a repudiation of that drive ('Life should be an aim unto i t s e l f ) . The difference w o u l d appear to be decisive. Jacques C h o r o n , for 6i

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example, detects here a shift from a stoical attitude to 'the new Renaissance spirit', something 'distinctively modern in its vigorous affirmation of life and resolute turning away from the preoccupation with and preparation for death' ( D e a t h a n d W e s t e r n T h o u g h t , p. 98). In fact my invocation of Freud is misleading, and there is less difference between the earlier and later essays than those like C h o r o n w o u l d have us believe; in certain respects the tendency of the earlier essay is the same as the later: it is all about how to come to terms with death in order to be able to live. This is not just a question of learning to live w i t h death, or of embracing the Senecan proposition that those who do not have the w i l l to die do not have the w i l l to live; it is also a question of regarding death in a way which rehabilitates not life

so

much as living, the process of quotidian existence. Montaigne put this most memorably when he wrote, 'I want death to find me planting my

cabbages, but careless of death, and still more of my unfinished

garden' (p. 62). In resignation there is a kind of affirmation which it takes a lifetime to discover. Montaigne's attitude of a wise, moderately enabling resignation remains significant in subsequent centuries, but, as we shall see in later chapters, other, more pessimistic, views have been and continue to be more culturally formative.

E r o s a n d t h a n a t o s : Ariés

and de Rougemont

But thy delight is death, and blood thou only desirest, Therefore bring me to death, take living blood from Amintas, For

my delight is death; death only desireth Amintas.

(Abraham Fraunce, Lamentations,

11.108-10)

C h o r o n identifies the new Renaissance spirit in terms of a vigorous affirmation of life and the turning away from an older preoccupation with death. Notoriously, though, the Renaissance was also when eros and thanatos began to be associated in new and disturbing ways, from Nicolas Deutsch's D e a t h a n d t h e Y o u n g W o m a n (1517), which depicts a decaying corpse having sex with a young woman, to Shakespeare's apparently more restrained (yet, as we'll see, no less disturbing, albeit in subtler ways) story of the erotic death of Romeo and Juliet. 62

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Philippe Aries, the most significant recent historian of death, dates the disturbing association of thanatos and eros from the sixteenth century. F r o m then until the eighteenth century they are associated with increasing degrees of intensity. H e describes it as a major phenomenon, but w i t h little explanation as to why it occurred. Indeed, he proposes not to analyse it in detail since it occurred less in 'the w o r l d of real, acted-out events' than ' i n the obscure and extravagant w o r l d of phantasms' and 'the depths of the unconscious'; consequently, 'the historian studying it ought to transform himself into a psychoanalyst' ( W e s t e r n A t t i t u d e s , p. 56; H o u r , pp. 369, 393). Elsewhere he finds that, from the beginning of the sixteenth century onwards, not only sexuality but violence and fear invade a domain in which life and death have become inseparable: U n t i l the seventeenth century, the two concepts of death and life w i t h all their respective associations were kept separate. Subsequently, they destroyed and encroached u p o n each other. Life was n o w impregnated w i t h death. T o d a y we refer to taboos when we might more correctly speak of saturation.

(Images,

pp. 176, z n ; cf. H o u r , pp. 369-74)

Eroticism and violence are also inseparable, the first being an aspect of the second, as in the torments of the martyrs ( I m a g e s , pp. 180, 210; H o u r , pp. 372-3). Aries finds here an unconscious manifestation of 'that blend of love and death, pleasure and pain, that w i l l later be called sadism'; it gives rise to macabre eroticism ( H o u r , pp. 370, 373). A preoccupation w i t h necrophilia emerges at the end of the eighteenth century and the start of the nineteenth: 'the beautiful young corpse now acquired in the aesthetic sensibility a place reminiscent of that of the young ephebe in Hellenistic culture' ( I m a g e s , p. 210). Aries is more descriptive than analytic; often he does not explain the changes he charts. W h i c h means that the increasing connection of sex and death remains perplexing and mainly significant as a manifestation of the psychic and spiritual unhealth of modern man. Aries's preference is for the attitudes to death allegedly found in the earlier ages (below, Chapter 8). A more suggestive account of the death/desire convergence is Denis de Rougemont's 1940 study L o v e i n t h e W e s t e r n

W o r l d . F o r de

Rougemont, passionate love in the Western tradition is a perversion 63

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and/or displacement of religion, even a hubristic surrogate religion seeking spiritual transcendence where it cannot be found, namely in human sexual desire. What it finds instead is an inversion of such transcendence - i.e. death. T h i s , essentially, is the impossibility at the heart of desire. A n d one does not have to accept his o w n intransigent and often reductive analysis, nor indeed his o w n religious investment (agape over eros), to see truth in this. He

regards the medieval T r i s t a n a n d I s e u l t story as a founding

representation of the inherent perversity of a certain kind of desire or 'archetypal anguish'. This story is at once a legend, a romance and a myth - 'a kind of archetype of our most complex feelings of unrest'. De Rougemont also finds here the greatest European myth of adultery (pp.

301, 18). Tristan and Iseult are in an ecstatically contradictory

position because they do not love one another. They say they don't and everything goes to prove

it. What

they

love

is love

and being

in love

. . . What they need is not one

another's presence, but one another's absence. Thus

are dictated

by their passion

t h e p a r t i n g s of t h e l o v e r s

itself.

Parting is an obstruction, and the passion of the two lovers creates such obstructions because these are what it really wants. A n d behind this desire for obstruction is nothing less than the desire for death, which passion ultimately serves: T h e love of love itself has concealed a far more awful passion, a desire altogether unavowable, something that could only be 'betrayed' by means of symbols such as that of the d r a w n sword and that of perilous chastity. Unawares and in spite of themselves, the lovers have never had but one desire, the desire for death! . . . In the innermost recesses of their hearts they have been obeying the fatal dictates of a wish for death; they have been in

the throes of the active

passion

of Darkness,

(pp. 40, 43, 44, 47, 48; de

Rougemont's emphasis)

De Rougemont traces the origins of this desire for death to heretical religious movements of Eastern origin, notably the Cathars in the twelfth century. Whereas orthodox mysticism of that time was an especially effective discipline for transcending passionate love, heret-

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ical mysticism enabled a fatal crossing and confusion between the divinizing eros and sexual passion (pp. 145, 178-9). For

de Rougemont, the history of passionate love in all great

literature from the thirteenth century to the present is the history of the secularization of this crossing and confusion, of the tragic and more and more desperate attempts of eros 'to take the place of mystical transcendence

by means of emotional intensity'.

3

Crucially, the

modern cult of passion is a secularized, obsessive repetition of 'a spiritual heresy t h e k e y t o w h i c h w e h a v e l o s t ' (p. 145; my emphasis). De Rougemont suggests yet another originating and reinforcing factor in the myth: both passion and the longing for death which it involves connect w i t h the Western idea that the individual reaches selfawareness in suffering, and on the verge of death; in Western culture, suffering and understanding are inextricably connected; in romanticism, suffering - especially the suffering of love - operates as a privileged mode of understanding (pp. 53—4). He

attributes to the passionate-love myth an interesting social

structure and function, especially in its original form. Culture at once expresses and conceals the fact that the secret objective of this love is death or self-annihilation; it conceals it by expressing it. Indeed it is the function of myth to do just this: to provide a disguised or obscure expression of what can no longer be said openly. Typically the expression w i l l conform to socially acceptable conventions - here, in the romance, chivalry is the convention - in order to explore an antisocial content. Passionate love is also shrouded in contradiction: emotionally we desire it, yet ethically and rationally we deplore it. The myth, and not least its obscurity, allows us to live the contradiction without actually confronting it (pp. 2 1 - 4 ) . Extending his argument to culture more generally, de Rougemont suggests that today we desire passion and its paradoxically annihilating consequences, but only on

condition that we do not have to admit it. This paradoxical

interanimation of passion and death is the secret which Europe has at once repressed and preserved (pp. 16, 5 2 - 3 ) . W h a t all this means 4

is that the Tristan myth, which has been agitating us for eight hundred years, is inextricably cultural and libidinal, at one and the same time 'a passion sprung from dark nature, an energy excited by the mind,

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and a pre-established potentiality in search of the coercion that shall intensify it' (p. 24) . In de Rougemont's account, mysticism is not, as 5

others (especially psychoanalysts) contend, a sublimated expression of sexuality, but vice versa (p. 149). Even as he is sensitive to the dynamics of desire, de Rougemont wants to save it and the w o r l d (or myth and culture, at least) from its degenerate forms. A s i n a different way is Ariés's history of death, 6

de Rougemont's account of the death/desire dynamic is also a theory of history, and a narrative of historical decline and the errors of modernity. The courtly-love myth, he argues, was formed when the ruling caste was striving to establish social and moral order; the myth precisely contained 'the surges of the destructive instinct' (p. 23) - that is, it allowed it expression, but within a structure which limited its damaging effects. The ' s o c i a l f u n c t i o n of the sacred myth of courtly love . . . was to order and purify the lawless forces of passion. Its transcendental mysticism secretly directed the yearnings of distressed mankind to the next w o r l d , and concentrated them there' (p. 251). But as the social bonds subsequently slackened, or the social group disintegrated, so the myth degenerated: the passion it once contained now spread out into everyday life and invaded the subconscious, where it 'invoked, or if necessary invented, new compulsions' (pp. 23—4). It found its apotheosis in Wagner's T r i s t a n a n d I s o l d e - a w o r k which restored the mislaid significance of the legend in all its virulence, and which, contrary to popular opinion, does not glorify sensual desire. O n the contrary, its 'melodies in their distressing morbidity disclose a w o r l d in which carnal desire has become no more than an ultimate and impure apathy of souls in process of curing themselves of life' (p. 243). Subsequently the myth ceases to be a form of social cohesion and becomes an instrument of lawless violence, a fallen myth, and the more dangerous for being so; antisocial and 'anti-vital forces long dammed up by the myth' are unleashed, and there occurs a severance of the bonds holding society together. In its austere original form, the myth of passionate love expresses desire controlled, more or less; in its subsequent profane forms, desire is out of control, and increasingly so since 'It h a s b e e n o u r d r a m a t i c l u c k t o h a v e o p p o s e d p a s s i o n w i t h w e a p o n s f o r e d o o m e d t o f o s t e r if 66

(p. 333).7 A l l this is potentially

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catastrophic: de Rougemont claims that the gradual profanation of the myth can be traced not only in literature but also in European warfare and its methods: ' L i k e passion, the taste for war follows on a notion that life should be ardent, a notion which is the mask of a wish for death' (p. 331). As he revised the book (]1956) it seemed possible that the w o r l d was on the brink of total atomic war (pp. v i , 253, 286 and Book V , 'Love and W a r ' , p a s s i m ) . As the myth of passionate love permeates downwards, a crisis of cultural order ensues, most acutely in the institution of marriage upon which the social order rests. T h e myth is especially 'vulgarized and popularized' in poetry and the middle-class novel (pp. 2 4 5 - 7 ) . De Rougemont recognizes something profoundly important about the death/desire convergence, only to foreclose on its analysis with a moralizing and reductive critique of modernity. As we shall see, he is not alone in this. H i s account of the Tristan myth in earlier periods has also been questioned. Irving Singer argues persuasively that de Rougemont not only misrepresents the nature of courtly love, but misleadingly confuses it with romantic love; also, that he erroneously conflates the medieval and the modern versions of the Tristan legend. Singer claims too that de Rougemont overestimates the death/desire connection in Western culture. For Singer this connection, expressed as L i e b e s t o d , is really only developed in the last two hundred years, although

occasionally

foreshadowed

in earlier times. Thus

de

Rougemont 'has arbitrarily forced the vast complexity of Western ideas about love into constraining categories drawn from the last two centuries. H e has interpreted humanistic thinking about passion as if it all derived from a single type of romanticism' ( T h e N a t u r e o f L o v e , Vol.

2, esp. pp. x - x i , 28, 77, 114, 2 9 8 - 9 ) . However, Singer himself

is so committed to an affirmative humanistic attitude which sees love as an 'ideal completion of life rather than a search or secret hungering for death' (p. xi) that he in turn disregards the extent, as well as the different forms, of the pre-romantic preoccupation with the death/ desire dynamic.

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M u t a b i l i t y a s d e a t h i n life Crucial to the death/desire convergence, and something largely ignored by de Rougemont, was an intensified preoccupation with the oldest of themes: mutability. Increasingly in the early modern period it is regarded as an instability which simultaneously disintegrates and drives both the w o r l d and the self. This is partly, as John Kerrigan suggests, because of the invention of mechanical time, of the clock. And

8

yet the preoccupation was already there. If we think of the

surrealist's stopped clock, at once explicable, melancholy and utterly mysterious, it seems modern; and so it is. But it is also evoking the mesmerizing stillness of its antecedent, the sundial, which, precisely because it had no moving parts to stop, conveyed all the more powerfully the same sense of death i n time; as Shakespeare put it, ' T h o u by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know / Time's thievish progress to eternity' (Sonnet 77). Regarded metaphysically, the clock, with moving hands, and which ticks, is different only in that its stillness and silence are the louder, the more relentless. This image of stillness within movement - elsewhere, of course, a metaphor for eternity - is here, in the sundial and the clock, an image of death as immanent within life.

9

This immanence of death preoccupied many early modern writers, and

in a way which rendered equanimity such as Montaigne's difficult

if not impossible. A t heart the problem is mutability. O f the rose, so persistently invoked in the mutability tradition, George Herbert says, with fine economy, ' T h y root is ever in its grave, / A n d thou must die' ('Virtue'). The source of life is always already the place of death. Others write eloquently of the temptation to turn to pleasure as a way of drowning this apprehension of death. But, because it is itself subject to mutability, pleasure becomes a kind of death in itself: Punish not thyself w i t h pleasure . . . the race of delight is short, and pleasures have mutable faces. T h e pleasures of one age are not pleasures in another, and

their lives fall short of our o w n . Even i n our sensual days, the strength

of delight is in its seldomness or rarity, and sting in its satiety: mediocrity is

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its life, and immoderacy its confusion. (Sir Thomas Browne, 'Christian Morals', pp. 221-2) Perhaps happiness rather than pleasure is the way. But the problem here is twofold. Happiness too is mutable; because it is an event within life itself, it inevitably leads to adversity - it might even be said that happiness produces adversity - since ' f o r t u n e l a y s t h e p l o t of o u r a d v e r s i t i e s i n t h e f o u n d a t i o n of o u r f e l i c i t i e s ' . Adversity is to felicity as death is to life: latent within it. Further, 'since in the highest felicities there lieth a capacity of the lowest miseries, she hath this advantage from our happiness to make us truly miserable: for to become acutely miserable we are to be first happy' (p. 231; my emphasis). For Browne all this is tolerable because there is still design in adversity: ' A l l things began in order, so shall they end, and so shall they begin again; according to the ordainer of order and mystical mathematics of the city of heaven' ('Garden of Cyrus', i n C r a i k , p. 328). So here the voice of melancholy is also a voice of moderation. For Browne the contemplation of death is ideally an obedient praxis, a practical wisdom. A g a i n , learning how to die is learning how to live. For other writers desire is so wracked by mutability it becomes the agent of death. Sexual ecstasy might itself be a k i n d of death — an obliteration of identity, of self. For Shakespeare's T r o i l u s , even to anticipate sexual ecstasy is to expect death; this is a pleasure which is so 'subtle-potent' it obliterates sense and 'distinction', a 'swooning destruction', which enacts death: W h a t w i l l it be W h e n that the wat'ry palates taste indeed Love's thrice repuréd nectar? Death, I fear me, S w o o n i n g destruction, or some joy too fine, T o o subtle-potent, tuned too sharp i n sweetness For the capacity of my ruder powers. I fear it m u c h , and I do fear besides T h a t I shall lose distinction i n my joys . . .

(Troilus

and Cressida,

III.ii.i8ff.)

As E d m u n d Spenser warns in ' T w o Cantos of M u t a b i l i t i e ' , 'thy decay thou seekst by thy desire' (VII.vii.59.3). Philip Sidney declares

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'Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust' ('Leave me, O Love', 1.1; W i l l i a m s , p. 174). Consider how, in this extraordinary line, 'Love' is both the beloved object a n d the poet-lover's desire: the beloved turns to dust, even or especially as she (or he) reaches for the poet, who in turn turns to dust in the self-same process. That's to say, not only do we decay, but desire hastens the process of decay: desire itself (re)turns us to dust; life, desire, are self-defeating aberrations: ' r e a c h e s t b u t t o d u s f : t h e e m b r a c e of l o v e is itself

70

a d y n a m i c of

self-dissolution.

5 'Death's Incessant M o t i o n

5

J o h n Donne's sense of tormenting contradictions at the heart of existence — 'to vex me contraries meet in one' (Holy Sonnets, X I X . i ) — and his obsessive, energetic expression of this torment are at once idiosyncratic and representative. H i s preoccupation w i t h the metaphysics of death, and his behaviour around his o w n anticipated death, has always fascinated his readers. H e preached his most famous sermon, 'Death's Duell or, a Consolation to the Soule, against the D y i n g Life, and L i v i n g Death of the Body', when he was visibly dying. A c c o r d i n g to Izaak Walton's account, written in 1640, his congregation inferred that he was preaching his o w n funeral sermon and was, i n a sense, dying for them, appearing as he d i d w i t h 'a decayed body and a dying face' (p. 75). T w o weeks before his death he covered himself in his winding-sheet and in that posture had his portrait painted and then hung by his bed. Finally, he adopted the position in which he w o u l d be buried — requiring, W a l t o n tells us, 'not the least alteration' (p. 82). Some twenty-three years earlier, when he was around thirty-seven, Donne had written B i a t b a n a t o s (c. 1608), the first English defence of suicide or what he calls 'self-homicide'. Equally remarkable, for the 1

time, was that in the preface to that w o r k he explicitly attributed its writing to his o w n susceptibility to a death-wish. This desire to die, and

the consequent contemplation of suicide, he w o u l d experience

'whensoever any affliction assails me'. A n y affliction: here is a symp2

tom

of what was then called melancholia, now depression - a degree

of distress disproportionate to the occasion, further instanced by the example w h i c h Donne gives in B i a t b a n a t o s of Beza, a man 'eminent and

illustrious, i n the full glory and noon of learning', who wanted 71

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to k i l l himself for no other reason than that he had scurf. It was, adds Donne, his o w n attraction to death which led him to empathize w i t h those who succeed in taking their o w n lives, and to write in their defence (p. 39). Donne argues that suicide is universal among human kind: ' i n all ages, in all places, upon all occasions, men of all conditions have affected it, and inclined to it'. H i s argument is that the desire to die is bred in us by nature, and confirmed by 'custom' (p. 78). In fact this desire is so natural that it actually flourishes where custom permits it. It is also widespread across cultures, and especially i n Christian culture. It has been remarked before that this anticipates Freud's theory of the death drive, but w i t h the crucial proviso that Donne emphasizes not the desire for non-being suggested by Freud, but rather the opportunity which death affords of achieving the transcendence of self in the afterlife (p. liii - Introduction by Rudick and Battin). This is well said, but, as we shall shortly see in relation to Castiglione and W i l l i a m D r u m m o n d , the two things (annihilation of self/transcendence of self) are rarely distinct; the 'desire of supreme happiness in the next life by the loss of this' (p. 193) is inseparable from ceasing to desire, ceasing to be; the eternity promised by death is the eternal absence of desire, loss, division; it is the stasis of non-consciousness, 'that o n e d e a t h , the final

d i s s o l u t i o n of body and soul, the end of all' that Donne looks

forward to in his final sermon ( S e l e c t e d P r o s e , p. 315). Donne's attraction to death had different aspects. There was clearly a death-wish in the modern sense: 'If man knew the g a i n of d e a t h , the e a s e of d e a t h , he w o u l d solicit, he w o u l d provoke d e a t h to assist him, by any hand, which he might use.' Again: ' O who, if before he had a being, he could have sense of this misery, w o u l d buy a being here upon these conditions?' This could evolve into the aspiration to a religiously erotic annihilation and resurrection — 'that death of rapture, and of ecstasy [in which] . . . I shall find my self, and all my sins interred, and entombed in [Christ's] wounds . . .' (pp. 117, 125, 150). The image of Christ on the cross is crucial in Donne: Christ's Passion becomes a k i n d of paradigm of suicide (pp. 169-73);

m

the

words of Donne's recent editors, it 'reveals the very incarnation of G o d to be in fact a suicide H i m s e l f ( B i a t h a n a t o s , p. lxxx). According to Jorge Luis Borges, whereas Donne's avowed purpose in B i a t h a n a t o s 72

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is to palliate suicide, his underlying aim is to indicate that Christ committed suicide. If this is so, Donne's indirection is understandable, since he w o u l d be saying in effect that, for Christianity, w o r l d history is organized around an act of self-destruction; Christ on the cross, supposedly the redemption of the w o r l d , becomes the death drive incarnate. Borges ends his essay w i t h a reflection on the idea of Philipp Batz that 'we are fragments of a G o d who destroyed Himself at the beginning of time because he did not wish to exist. Universal history is the obscure agony of those fragments' (pp. 9 1 - 2 ) . In his o w n perverse way Donne theorized something like the death drive in the first of his Paradoxes, which is entitled 'That A l l Things K i l l Themselves' and which begins: To affect yea to effect their own deaths, all living things are importun'd. Not by Nature only which perfects them, but by Art and education which perfects her . . . 'Perfection': from the latin perficere - to accomplish, bring to an end; for Donne the perfection which living things aspire to is literally their end; death is even encoded in life's drive for perfection. This is a natural process, but, under the influence of art and education, 'so much the more early they climb to this perfection, this Death'. Further, 'if then the best things k i l l themselves soonest (for no perfection endures) and all things labour to this perfection, all travail to their o w n Death' (pp. 1-2; my emphasis). There is another, equally paradoxical, aspect to this: when Donne, like so many other of his contemporaries, dwells on the ways things die and disappear - on how death literally decomposes in a way which is so incessant and systematic as to be almost purposeful - it is as if it is here, i n the forces of disintegration rather than generation, that the real energies of the universe are at work.

'The

everlasting

flux of

time

9

In his last sermon Donne tells his congregation that the w o m b is not a place of life but a place of death from which we are delivered unto 'the manifold deaths of this world': we come from the mother's w o m b 73

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'to seek a g r a v e ' , and 'We celebrate our o w n funerals with cries, even at our birth; as though our t h r e e s c o r e a n d t e n y e a r s of life were spent in our mother's labour, and our circle made up in the first point thereof' ( S e l e c t e d P r o s e , pp. 312-13). Life is synonymous w i t h dissatisfaction, the futility of desire, youth being spent in anticipation, old age in regret. When Donne speaks of the 'Variable, and therefore miserable condition of M a n ' ,

he is making the common assumption that muta-

bility and misery imply each other. M o r e urgently, life is conceived as a process of disintegration towards non-being. In a sermon of commemoration for Lady Danvers he imagines her in the grave, 'mouldering, and crumbling into less, and less dust, and so [with] some m o t i o n , though no life'.

As he puts it elsewhere, even in the

grave we have to endure still another death, that of ' c o r r u p t i o n and p u t r e f a c t i o n and v e r m i c u l a t i o n [i.e. being infested or eaten by worms]'. And

even as dust we remain in motion, 'such are the r e v o l u t i o n s of

the g r a v e s ' ; our dust w i l l be mingled with that of the highway, of every dunghill, every puddle and pond, and this is 'the most deadly and

peremptory n u l l i f i c a t i o n of man, that we can consider'. There

can be no happiness inside the inverted eternity which is 'the everlasting flux of T i m e ' . T i m e is 'but the M e a s u r e of M o t i o n ' and the condition of absence. Past and future are not - 'one is not, now, and the other is not yet' - while the present 'is not n o w the same that it was, when you began to call it so in the L i n e ' . If then this ' I m a g i n a r y h a l f - n o t h i n g , T i m e be of the E s s e n c e of our H a p p i n e s s e s , how can they be thought d u r a b l e ? ' O n l y w i t h death w i l l time be no more; in this sense death is a deliverance from death, since life is itself a series of movements 'from

d e a t h to d e a t h ' (pp. 99, 285, 319, 131, 167, 311-12).

Hence the pervasive yearning for stasis — the more acute because the only fixity man knows, the only essence he possesses, is this misery of permanent mutability: ' M a n hath no c e n t r e but m i s e r y ; t h e r e and only t h e r e , he is f i x e d , and sure to find h i m s e l f (p. 133). A n d to be conscious of that misery is a k i n d of death, an agonized awareness of absence and deprivation. In one of his most famous poems, ' A nocturnall upon S. L u c i e s day, Being the shortest day', Donne expresses vividly the Renaissance sense of desire's impossibility, of being 'ruin'd' by love: 74

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I am re-begot O f absence, darkness, death; things w h i c h are not. I, by love's limbeck, am the grave O f all that's nothing.

The absence of a fixed centre - or rather the experience of the centre as metaphysical absence and disintegration - preoccupies Donne: T h i s is Nature's nest of Boxes; T h e Heavens contain the Earth, the Earth, Cities, Cities, Men. A n d all these are Concentric; the c o m m o n centre to them all is decay, ruine . . . Annihilation. M a n is a fragile being, all the while disintegrating, decaying and melting. 'I find myself scattered, melted,' he declares in one sermon. H e also invokes images, familiar at the time, which anticipate later notions of entropy: the dust of dead kings is b l o w n into the street, and the dust of the street b l o w n into the R i v e r , and the muddy River tumbled into the Sea, and the sea remaundered [returned] into all the veins and channels of the earth ]. . .

In the Devotions

Upon Emergent Occasions

(1624) disease and fever

become the images for this condition of 'everlasting dissolution, dispersion, dissipation' (Selected Prose, pp. 114, 102, 172). The reason why this ruin is centrifugal, disintegrating outward from the centre of things, is because we were originally made of nothing: 'that which is not made of Nothing

is not threatened w i t h

this annihilation' (p. 114). M a n conspires with this inner tendency to dissolution i n terms which again anticipate the Freudian death drive: W e seem ambitious, G o d ' s whole w o r k to undo; O f nothing he made us and we strive too, T o bring ourselves to nothing back . . .

(An Anatomie of the World, 11. 155-7) H u m a n consciousness is not what enables one to transcend misery, but that which intensifies it. In the Devotions

this is vividly expressed

as hypochondria and melancholy, both of which exacerbate the sickness by anticipating it: 'we are not only passive, but active, i n our

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o w n r u i n \ Melancholy is especially self-destructive. Donne finds here an analogy w i t h the state: 'as the v a p o u r s most pernicious to us, arise in our o w n bodies, so do the most dishonourable r u m o u r s , and those that wound a S t a t e most, arise at home' ( S e l e c t e d P r o s e , pp. 136,11819). Donne writes about mortality, disease and death from his sickbed, which, for a while at least, seemed to him as if it would be his deathbed too. It is here that his most celebrated lines occur. If they do indeed express that deep humanistic empathy which has been attributed to them, it is an empathy rooted in an obsessive preoccupation w i t h one's o w n mortality and lack of self-sufficiency ( ' N o w , t h i s B e l l t o l l i n g softly No

f o r a n o t h e r , says

t om e , T h o u m u s t die'):

man is an I s l a n d , entire of itself; every man is a piece of the C o n t i n e n t ,

a part of the m a i n . . . A n y M a n ' s death diminishes me, because I am involved

in M a n k i n d , (pp. 125-6) What recurs in early modern writing is the sense of death not simply as the end of desire, nor simply its punishment; shockingly, perversely, death is itself the impossible dynamic of desire. A n d not just desire; life more generally is animated by the dynamic of death, as in another of George Herbert's brilliant images. H e perhaps has in mind the way that dust or leaves collect in a corner, b l o w n there by the eddying of the wind: 'this heap of dust; / T o which the blast of death's incessant 3

motion, / . . . / Drives all at last' ('Church-monuments'). Here, energy and

movement - ostensibly the essence of life - are more truly the

dynamic of its dissolution, the incessant motion, the d r i v i n g force of death. For these writers, death does not merely end life but disorders and decays it from within; its force is indistinguishable from the life-force. Death is not merely an ending but an internal undoing. The most cosmic, most culturally necessary of all binary oppositions, life versus death, is thus subjected to collapse; the absolutely different is inseparable from what it is not, cannot be. The absolutely other is found to inhere within the self-same as nothing less than the dynamic of its dissolution. M e d i a i n v i t a i n m o r t e . That is why life is experienced as a living death; as Donne puts it, ' H o w much worse a death than death, is this life . . . !' ( S e l e c t e d P r o s e , p. 315). A n d all of this was already in a sense popular, in that the sense of death as paradoxically 76

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vital, of evil somehow being more alive than good - wickedly alive had been reflected in the antics of the vice figure of medieval drama, and of course in the 'Dance of Death'.

Cosmic

decay

The early modern obsession w i t h mutability found an extreme and fascinating expression in the conviction that the universe was i n a state of chronic and irreversible decline. This idea was vividly expressed in literature, philosophy and theology, which constitute a revealing record of a melancholic obsession w i t h impending disintegration. The most famous literary expression of decay is Donne's An of the World,

4

Anatomie

where the symptoms of ineradicable decline include

failing energy and a desperate lack of harmony and symmetry: what f o r m soe'er we see, Is discord, and rude incongruity.

T h i s is accompanied by an acute sense of dislocation: 'as m a n k i n d , so is the world's whole frame / Quite out of joint'. There is also a conviction that we are suffering from an inherent corruption such that the w o r l d has become 'rotten at the heart', and we who yet survive i n it suffer from 'Corruptions i n our brains, in our hearts, / Poisoning the fountains, whence our actions spring'. Above all is the sense of social decline and disorder: ' T i s all i n pieces, all coherence gone; A l l just supply, and all relation: Prince, subject, father, son, are things f o r g o t . . . (11. 3 2 3 - 4 ; 1 9 1 - 2 ; 2 4 3 ; 3 3 0 - 3 1 ; 2 1 3 - 1 5 )

Likewise w i t h Sir Walter Ralegh's expression of the idea i n his History of the World: A n d as all things under the Sun have one time of strength, and another of weakness, a youth and beauty, and then age and deformity: so T i m e itself (under the deathful shade of whose wings a l l things decay and wither) hath wasted and w o r n out that lively virtue of N a t u r e i n M a n , and Beasts, and

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Plants; yea, the Heavens themselves being of a most pure and cleansed matter shall w a x o l d as a garment; and then much more the power generative i n inferior Creatures . . . (p. 144)

As in Donne, the cosmic and the social are inseparable; Ralegh makes this observation in the context of a discussion about s o c i a l degeneration of the present age, something which is a reflection of the larger cosmic decline, but also self-engendered: in education, child-rearing, early marriage, and 'above all things the exceeding luxuriousness of this gluttonous age' man is contributing to his o w n irreversible decline. The entire debate about cosmic decay makes sense only in the context of the F a l l , the human transgression that introduced death and

mutability into the w o r l d . Unsurprisingly, biblical precedents

were cited (Ralegh's reference above to the heavens waxing old like garments echoes Psalm 102, where it is said that the heavens 'shall perish . . . yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment'); but so too were very different versions of the idea, for example Book II of Lucretius' T h e N a t u r e of t h e U n i v e r s e . But from around the m i d sixteenth century the idea takes greater hold in relation to the observations of those like Copernicus, Kepler and Galileo which suggested that the earth was not at rest at the centre of the universe, but in motion around the sun, and that the heavens, hitherto regarded as perfectly beyond the mutability and corruption of earthly things, were in fact also subject to the same forces. Mutability traumatically extended its domain - and in a way which seemed to threaten the very basis of theology and metaphysics.

5

Mutability gives rise to the idea that life is a process of disordered, aberrant movement, and once again the cosmic and the social connect analogically: the problems of social mobility - especially masterless, vagrant men and errant women - epitomized the instability of the earth itself; all deviated from the metaphysical ideal of fixity.

6

In

Spenser's T h e F a e r i e Q u e e n e we read of a w o r l d which is 'run quite out of square' and now grows 'daily worse and worse'; a w o r l d in which we find 'creatures from their course astray / T i l l they arrive at their last ruinous decay'. In the final unfinished ('unperfite') fragment of this vast poem the poet dreams of regaining perfect stasis, fixity and

integration in

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that same time when no more Change shall be, But steadfast rest of all things firmly stayed Upon the pillars of Eternity, That is contrair to Mutability: For, all that moveth, doth in Change delight: But thence-forth all shall rest eternally (V.proem, i , 6; VIII.z)

Lovers

who

covet death:

Castiglione's

The Courtier

I have remarked before how mutability comes increasingly to be internalized - that is, experienced not just as the enemy of desire but also as its inner dynamic. This is a complex but crucial development which, as we shall see, affects the formation of identity and gender. Furthermore, in the religious writing of Donne, Wyatt and others, masochism can be seen to have its origins in this internalization of mutability. In Book I V of Castiglione's The Book of the Courtier love is regarded as a form of blind longing. In the experience of physical desire - 'a very rebel against reason' — the soul is deceived by the senses into error and false opinion, especially i n thinking that fulfilment lies in consummation (pp. 303-4). N o t so: to think so is to be moved w i t h 'false opinion by the longing of sense. Whereupon the pleasure that followeth it, is also false and of necessity full of errors.' In short, physical desire is impossible of fulfilment; it leads to loathing, and even hatred of the beloved; those who pursue this desire are inevitably obsessive; they are like the fevered who 'dream they drink of some clear spring' yet are never satisfied. This suggests why, despite the loathing and hatred, they are doomed to repeat the experience of desire's impossibility, 'and w i t h the very same trouble which they felt at the first, they fall again into the raging and most burning thirst of the thing, that they hope in vain to possess perfectly'. A d d e d to this, we are tempted to desire that which is deceptively beautiful - ''a certain lavish wantoness painted w i t h dishonest flickerings' (pp. 304—5, 311). Eventually, says Castiglione, to covet the beauty of another is only to covet one's o w n death: 79

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These k i n d of lovers therefore love most unluckily, for either they never come by their covetings . . . or else if they do . . . they come by their hurt, and end their miseries w i t h other greater miseries: for . . . there is never other thing felt, but afflictions, torments, griefs, pining, travail . . . [Their lot is] to be w a n , vexed w i t h continual tears and sighs, to live w i t h a discontented

mind, to be always dumb, or to lament,

to covet

death

. . . (p. 305; my

emphasis)

The young are especially susceptible; some are led into such great error that they not only hurt the woman they love, 'But r i d themselves out of their life' (p. 317). N o n e of this is the fault of beauty; all beauty is perfectly good; it derives from G o d and is like a circle, 'the goodness whereof is the Centre. A n d therefore, as there can be no circle without a centre, no more can beauty be without goodness' (pp. 308—9). But note how goodness is here associated with stasis; it is the (lifeless?) still centre of beauty. T o the charge that some women and men who are beautiful are the more deceitful, proud and cruel for being so, and 'many times [the] cause of infinite evils in the w o r l d , hatred, war, mortality, and destruction, whereof the razing of Troye can be a good witness' (p. 308), Castiglione's narrator replies that it is not their beauty which makes them thus: Neither yet ought beautiful w o m e n to bear the blame of that hatred, mortality, and

destruction, w h i c h the unbridled appetites of men are the causes of . . .

Provocations of lovers, tokens, poverty, hope, deceits, fear, and a thousand other matters overcome [them]: and for these and like causes may also beautiful men become wicked, (p. 311)

By contrast (and here he is following Plato), the r a t i o n a l apprehension of beauty possesses it perfectly and leads eventually to a release from sensual desire's 'long wandering in vanity', taking us instead to the divine origin and end of all beauty, the 'innermost secrets of G o d ' , and

a heavenly release from desire itself. In fact this transcendent

desire entails a kind of death-wish, namely the wish for the death of desire itself, which is also, inevitably, a wish for the death of the self as currently k n o w n : 'there shall we find a most happy end for our desires, true rest for our travels, certain remedy for miseries'; there

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we shall 'hear the heavenly harmony so tunable, that no discord of passion take place any more i n us' (pp. 306, 313, 321-2). The fantasy of desire absolutely realized is also the fantasy of oblivion: a release from, the complete annulment of, desire. A n d the impossibility of desire is n o w metaphysically inverted: in this heaven we w i l l drink from the bottomless fountain of contentment 'that always doth delight, and never giveth fill'. T e m p o r a l death promises the ultimate release from - the eternal death of - desire. One at least in the narrator's audience is sceptical: such beauty, 'without the body, is a dream' (p. 307); another declares that love and reason are simply incompatible (pp. 307, 312). For W i l l i a m D r u m m o n d , writing in 1619, death as complete oblivion is devoutly to be wished; it is 'the T h a w of all these vanities which the Frost of Life bindeth together' (p. 156). The inversion is apposite: life is a frost which binds; death the thaw. George Herbert uses the thaw/frost-life/death metaphor the other way around, and in the expression of a sentiment far removed from Drummond's: G r i e f melts away L i k e snow i n M a y A s if there were no such cold thing . . . ('The Flower')

Herbert is re-experiencing life w i t h the intense appreciation that comes when moving from the shadow of grief; D r u m m o n d wants to move from grief to the oblivion of death. Here is the death-wish in early modern form — that desire for a state in which humankind, in D r u m m o n d ' s words, 'nothing knows, and is of all u n k n o w n ' (p. 160). Death is a release of the soul into a heaven where there shall be 'an end without an end, T i m e shall finish . . . M o t i o n yielding unto Rest', this being 'the last of things wishable, the term and centre of all our Desires' (pp. 171,165). Crucially, this is a fantasy of desire as absolutely realized i n relation to the metaphysical concept of the absolute: that is, a G o d who does not desire. Desire implies lack, hence imperfection. T o be eternal and hence non-mutable is also to be free of desire. Conversely, to be human is to be mutable and to desire. So the absolute object of desire is, experientially, a fantasy of the absolute

release

from desire, i.e. death of desire/death of self. For D r u m m o n d , the 7

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yearning for undifferentiation is a desire both for non-being and for transcendence in metaphysical unity. Theologically there is here every difference in the w o r l d between non-being and G o d . Experientially there is not; we struggle towards eternal life from mundane life - the life of death - only to find this transcendence conceptualized in terms close to death: eternity, stasis, oblivion. For those like D r u m m o n d , the pain of death is allayed in and through an identification with death. W h i c h is one reason why in Christianity the desire for death has to be regulated, sublimated and, in the form of suicide, demonized.

T h e futility o f endeavour If ignorance of the future is hardly bliss, but rather the source of intense anxiety, life may nevertheless depend on it. In the second part of Shakespeare's H e n r y I V the insomniac, beleaguered K i n g asks sleep why it w i l l not 'steep my senses in forgetfulness'. Lamenting the mutable w o r l d , he too discerns the way its destructive effects somehow seemingly tap an innate tendency to dissolution: O G o d , that one might read the book of fate, A n d see the revolution of the times M a k e mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea . . .

So corrosive is the process of time that to foresee it w o u l d rob even the most ardent youth of the desire to live: . . . how chance's mock, A n d changes fill the cup of alteration W i t h divers liquors! O , if this were seen, T h e happiest youth, viewing his progress through, W h a t perils past, what crosses to ensue, W o u l d shut the book, and sit h i m d o w n and die. (III.i.45-56)

Death inside life melts it into the sea or reduces it to dust. This is not only, perhaps not even mainly, a question of physical dissolution so 82

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much as the annihilation of significance and meaning consequent upon this manifestation of death being also the manifestation of life, or rather of desire; mutability saturates desire even as it facilitates death. The death-wish derives from such perceptions; often, as in D r u m m o n d and Castiglione, it is half submerged as the aspiration to transcendence; at other times it is more explicitly the seduction of oblivion, and the release from effort. Typically the oblivion of death is compared to a deep sleep wherein we find freedom 'from those Vexations, Disasters, Contempts, Indignities, and many many Anguishes, unto which this Life is envassalled and made thrall' (Drummond, p. 153). But death is also a more perfect k i n d of sleep. It is exactly this idea that Despaire uses to tempt the R e d Cross Knight i n Spenser's The Faerie Queene. Here death also restores us to an original (innocent?) condition of 'eternal rest' which the living 'want and crave' but 'further from it daily wanderest'. The 'little p a i n ' of dying 'brings long ease, / A n d lays the soul to sleep in quiet grave', just as 'Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, / Ease after war, death after life does greatly please' (I.ix.40). Here, again, is the idea that somewhere inside consciousness is a regressive desire not just for death per se - the escape from consciousness - but for the oblivion of that more perfect state of non-being which preceded consciousness. However, sleep also throws us into a condition which is the complete opposite of this deep forgetting: conscious and unconscious fears return i n exaggerated, nightmarish form. D r u m m o n d ' s meditation on death from which I've been quoting was initially called ' A M i d n i g h t ' s Trance', because the writing of it was prompted by terrible dreams full of a strange mixture of apprehension, sorrow and horror (p. 147).

8

D r u m m o n d ' s anxious dream, like Donne's impassioned denunciation of life, reveals something of the greatest significance, which is the subject of the next chapter: that when we continue the struggle for existence we do so because of being fragmented, unstable and death-ridden. Somehow the same condition which motivates the deeply regressive desire for oblivion is also the source of a restless dissatisfaction which keeps us moving forward, albeit reluctantly.

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6 Death and Identity

Our

nature consists i n movement. Absolute stillness is death. (Pascal, Pensées,

p. I z 6 )

The preoccupation w i t h death probably always involved problems of identity, but in the early modern period they became more acute. In the context of secure faith and a belief in an underlying order in Creation, the meditation on death might well arrive at a view of human identity as being essentially or ultimately coherent and unified, though not of course immediately so - not, that is, in the existential experience of self. Thomas Browne speaks of the importance of k n o w i n g oneself but also of the difficulty of doing so. M o d e r n psychoanalysis might concur w i t h his contention that 'the greatest imperfection is in our inward sight . . . and while we are so sharp sighted as to look through others, to be invisible unto ourselves; for the inward eyes are more fallacious than the outward' ( C h r i s t i a n M o r a l s , p. 249).

1

There is also something proto-psychoanalytic about Browne's belief that our dreams may 'intimately tell us ourselves' in ways which conscious introspection cannot ( O n D r e a m s , p. 176; cf. L e t t e r t o a F r i e n d , pp. 190-92). The revealing difference is, of course, that for Browne dreams tell us about our selves, rather than our unconscious. Freud's sense of the unconscious as being the place of our repressions, of our other selves (plural) and of forbidden desires which can wreck the socially organized ego, is not Browne's: 'Persons of radical integrity w i l l not easily be perverted in their dreams' ( O n D r e a m s , p. 176). And,

although he concedes that man is a conflicted being, living in

'divided and distinguished worlds', Browne nevertheless has faith in

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the possibilities of integrating the conflicting demands of, for example, faith and reason w i t h those of passion and desire ( R e l i g i o

Medici,

pp. 53, 34). H e also believes that, in spite of bad dreams, inner division and

the corruption of the w o r l d , one really can become who one truly

is: Though the world be histrionical, and most men live ironically, yet be thou what thou singly art, and personate only thyself. Swim smoothly in the stream of thy nature, and live but one man. To single hearts doubling is discruciating . . . He who counterfeiteth, acts a part; and is, as it were, out of himself . . . ( C h r i s t i a n M o r a l s , pp. 252-3) Browne contains mutability w i t h i n an ethical-religious perspective. Even so, he retains an acute sense of death in life, and of the potential instabilities i n identity which this entails. Those who

experienced

these things in ways which could not be contained or resolved in Browne's terms were much more troubled. It is i n Elizabethan and Jacobean drama that we find an exploration of identity i n terms of what Browne calls its histrionical/ironic mode - that is, identity as necessitating the duplicitous opposite of an authentic, honest subjectivity. T i m e and again in such drama Browne's belief in the ultimate accessibility of true identity is repudiated.

2

M u t a b l e identities, o rthe heart 'ravel'd in

out

discontents'

Ideally, the integrity of the individual self derived from the unchangeable soul; it was that which protected one from the confusion of the social. In philosophical terms the soul was a substance - that which possessed properties without itself being a property. But repeatedly in the literature of this period the soul proved insubstantial, and mutability then became the shifting ground of identity. The extent to which this was a topic of widespread cultural concern can be inferred from the satirical and facetious treatment it gets in J o h n M a r s t o n ' s little-known yet interesting play W h a t

Y o u Will

(1601). A character called Lampatho sets out to discover the truth

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about the soul of man; he wants to k n o w if it exists, and, if so, of what it consists. M o s t urgently, he needs to k n o w if it is independent or dependent. H e finds only the 'cross'd opinions' of diverse intellectuals, the reading of w h o m ' D i d eat my youth' (1. 881). Even after intensive study, these conflicting intellectual opinions cancel each other out and leave h i m disillusioned: 'The more I learnt the more I learnt to doubt: / Knowledge and wit, faith's foes, turn faith about' (11. 847-8). A n d if knowledge is sinfully hubristic - 'strive not to be over-wise: / It drew destruction into Paradise' (11. 204-5) - this is not because it replaces faith w i t h an alternative, liberated secular identity and purpose. O n the contrary, it destroys faith and leaves the individual in a state of socially vulnerable disorientation: ' M y heart is ravel'd out in discontents' (1. 814). Quadratus tells Lampatho to abandon his search for the truth of the self and instead throw himself into social life: 'row w i t h the tide; / Pursue the cut, the fashion of the age'. But to do so requires 'sly dissemblance'; in pursuing worldly affairs one must be deceptive: 'Those that their state w o u l d swell / M u s t bear a counter-face' (11. 8 8 6 7, 913, 923-4). The 'counter-face' is less a matter of evil duplicity than a condition of the social itself. This play is a comedy about dress-disguise and the opportunities it affords for confused and refused identities. The 'counter-face' can be achieved w i t h little more than a change of dress: 'give h i m but fair rich clothes, / H e can be ta'en, reputed anything' (11. 937-8). If the inner self so easily evaporates into the persona appropriated, this is because ' " C u s t o m is a second nature" ' (1. 1021), and because identity is disturbingly a question of recognition: ' A l l that exists / Takes valuation from opinion' (11. 159-60).

3

The truth of desire is also sought in terms of the deep self, yet it too is shown to be radically social, an effect of social being. For Albano this is the consequence of living in a fallen age. Ideally love should be eternal, always one, A s is th'instiller of divinest love: Unchang'd by time . . .

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soul of man is rotten

Even to the core: no sound affection. Our

love is hollow-vaulted, stands on props

O r circumstance, profit or ambitious hopes

(11. 1031-8) T h e obsessed lovers in this play are social i n another sense: they w o u l d never have fallen i n love had they not previously learned of love. Lampatho is transformed from reclusive ascetic scholar into besotted lover by the rhetoric of love - a language which dissolves his 'spirit' into the 'fashion of the age'. Even the death meditation was becoming a social practice, analogous to the self-conscious performance of the melancholic. The genre 4

of the meditation, like that of melancholy, implies a state of introspection regardless of who might be watching or listening - something i n w a r d , private and personal. In fact the written meditation is a mode of writing w i t h its o w n rules, and usually presupposes at least a reader if not an audience. A n d by now it often proceeded by reference as much to past texts on the subject as to the individual writer's personal experience. Briefly, the death meditation — this most private of meditations on a universal theme - gains its meaning i n relation to an existing cultural history, and is a form of cultural self-presentation. This is one reason why those who meditate on death often present themselves as such; like the melancholic, which they often are, they p e r f o r m the meditation. W h e n Montaigne tells us that nothing has more occupied his m i n d than images of death, he glosses this w i t h a description of himself thus occupied: A m i d ladies and games, someone w o u l d think me involved i n digesting some jealousy by myself, or the uncertainty of some hope, while I was thinking about / d o n ' t r e m e m b e r w h o m , w h o had been overtaken a few days before . . . by death, o n leaving a similar feast, his head full of idleness, love, and a good time, like myself; and thinking that the same chance was hanging f r o m

my ear . . . ( C o m p l e t e Essays,

pp. 60—61; my emphasis)

Compare this w i t h a passage from Lucretius which Montaigne refers to i n his o w n text:

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men often talk from the bottom of their hearts when they recline at a banquet, goblet i n hand and brows decked w i t h garlands: ' H o w all too short are those good times that come to us poor creatures! Soon they w i l l be past and gone, and there w i l l be no recalling them.' (pp. 123-4)

Even if the similarity between the scenarios is not conscious

on

Montaigne's part, it is still not coincidental. This scenario recurs in the traditions of both melancholy and the meditation on death. Perhaps when Montaigne prefaces his o w n self-description by saying that he is 'by nature not melancholy, but dreamy' he is wanting to distinguish his thoughtful meditation from a maudlin melancholy. But see too how effectively Montaigne frames himself by way of being true to the detail of the genre: he tells us in passing that he has already forgotten the man he was thinking about. Yet Montaigne's text survives, as does that image of Donne wrapped in his winding-sheet, waiting to die. In 1614 Sir Walter Ralegh, imprisoned in the T o w e r of L o n d o n , and himself expecting to die, meditated on death and the way it defeats our projects and disintegrates our identities: [Death] tells the proud and insolent that they are but abjects, and humbles them at the instant; makes them cry, complain, and repent, yea, even to hate their forepast happiness. H e takes the account of the rich, and proves h i m a beggar, a naked beggar, which hath interest in nothing but the gravel that fills his mouth. H e holds a glass before the eye of the most beautiful, and makes them see therein their deformity and rottenness and they acknowledge

it. (History,

p. 396)

In early December 1623, five years after Ralegh was finally executed, J o h n Donne fell dangerously i l l w i t h relapsing fever. H e survived, but at the time he believed, w i t h good reason, that he w o u l d not. So he wrote about the experience, and did so feverishly - literally - thinking he was recording his o w n dying. H e wrote obsessively about the precariousness of an identity wrecked by change and loss: 'variable and therefore miserable condition of man' ( S e l e c t e d P r o s e , p. 99). Donne used the immediate experience of illness, physical decline and decay as both metaphor for and a real material cause of the radical instability of identity.

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If Walton's graphic description of J o h n Donne preaching passionately against the dying life, even as he is literally dying, is revealing, so too is the fact that Donne c o m m i s s i o n e d that portrait of himself wrapped i n his winding-sheet. Even more to the point, what he wrote when i l l was not random jottings but a book running to many pages. M o s t remarkably, this meditation on death, disintegration and the futility of desire was ready for publication even before he had left his sickbed; at the time the book was actually published he was still under doctor's orders neither to read nor write. Donne's biographer R. C. Bald tells us that the D e v o t i o n s were written i n less than a m o n t h , being first jotted d o w n during a fever w h i c h nearly cost the writer his life, and were then put into shape during a convalescence that left the patient so weak that the book was almost i n print before he was able to leave his bedroom, (p. 451)

Suffering, mutability and death exhaust, disintegrate and ruin Donne, yet he responds almost indefatigably; to express the experience, to k n o w and articulate the truth about his o w n and the human condition as one of absence, loss and dissatisfaction, becomes a k i n d of praxis of death; seemingly, death imparts intellectual energy even as it saps life. Donne was exceptional, but the same paradox lies at the heart of the intense artistic production which characterized this period which made it, arguably, the time of greatest artistic achievement in Western culture to date. And

Ralegh too: what he writes on death while imprisoned in the

T o w e r is i n a long tradition which laments the vanity of human desire and ambition in the face of the most fundamental truth of all: nothing lasts; everything is destroyed i n and by time. Decline, ruin and oblivion are the fate of all. What this means is that all human effort is futile, because, as Ralegh puts it elsewhere, under the sway of time ' a l l is dissolved, our labours come to naught' ('The Ocean to Scinthia', 1. 235). A g a i n , Ralegh offers us the familiar idea inviting despair: in the passage quoted above, death holds a mirror before the beautiful, making them see their 'rottenness' not just as an eventual fate, but as something already inherent w i t h i n them - it is the reflection they see in the mirror n o w . A n d yet Ralegh too works indefatigably i n the face of the ruin of death: this passage comes at the end of his H i s t o r y 89

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of t h e W o r l d . Under conditions of imprisonment, Ralegh had achieved nothing less than the writing of a monumental w o r l d history. The 5

reason he found himself in prison at all was that he had failed in an ambitious commercial venture on a w o r l d scale. Death enervates, exhausts and obliterates, and yet it also energizes; from it we learn the futility of all endeavour, yet that truth somehow spurs us on indefatigably. It w o u l d be convenient to conclude that fatalism and despair set in only as a result of the experienced failure of this or that particular human endeavour - becoming, as it were, the rationalization of that failure. That may be true to an extent. But it is also and more interestingly the case that the fatalism seems to have been a condition for the endeavour in the first place. It w o u l d also be convenient to explain this paradox by regarding the manic productivity of Ralegh and Donne as attempts to disavow death. But this kind of explanation is itself a disavowal of the significance of death for them, for their culture and, still, for ours. Donne did, after all, write the first published defence of suicide, in which he confessed to the experience of what we might call a self-destructive depression, if not a death-wish, and his writing is steeped in the seductions, the paradoxes and the profundity of death. A g a i n , we are required to revise some of our o w n assumptions about the history of identity - especially the (so-called) recent 'death of man'.

The death o f man? M o d e r n theories of identity have been preoccupied with the alleged recent disintegration of Western humanism. The argument usually goes like this. Western culture was once underpinned by a confident ideology of subjectivity. The individual experienced himself as unified and

(spiritually if not socially) self-determining by virtue of his ima-

gined possession of a pre-social or asocial essence from which spiritual (if not social) value and freedom derive. It was this concept of subjectivity which fed the predominantly masculinist Western ideologies of individualism, and its universal counterpart, 'man'. But these ideologies were relatively short-lived. Often the fully unified subject was 90

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said to have emerged in the Renaissance, become ideologically consolidated in the Enlightenment, and experienced its high point in the nineteenth century, before collapsing i n our o w n time (and i n a way corresponding to the crisis of the West, of capitalism or empire). This collapse is not usually regarded w i t h regret; i n some post-modern versions of this narrative, the modern 'decentred' and mobile subject is also fantasized as the subversion of, or at least the radical alternative to, the ideologies which the individual and man once served. It is ironic that, far from being the critical act of demystification which it so often aspires to be, the explanatory model at w o r k here - from unity, fullness and freedom to disunity, crisis and fragmentation - echoes, often unawares and i n secular form, one of the founding myths of western-European culture, and of Western subjectivity, namely the F a l l . W e repeat this Fall narrative imagining it as a narrative of the ending of something, whereas in fact it is the narrative of its continuation. It is apparent from previous chapters that the crisis of subjectivity was present at the inception of individualism in early Christianity, and it has been as enabling as it has been disturbing (enabling because disturbing). The Fall narrative dramatizes this very crisis, indicating as it does that what simultaneously subverted and energized the subject of Western culture was not desire p e r se, but transgressive desire haunted by the death which it brought into being. This of course is what happened i n Eden: A d a m and Eve, by transgressing God's law, brought death into the w o r l d . M o s t significant in this tradition has been death's manifestation as a pernicious mutability which always undermines identity. W i l l i a m D r u m m o n d writes of how death not only destroys, but in the process (and long before death proper) cruelly transforms everything into its o w n opposite: ' a l l Strength by it is enfeebled, Beauty turned in deformity and rottenness, H o n o u r in contempt, G l o r y into baseness' (pp. 1 4 8 9). W o r k i n g thus through mutability, death inverts, perverts, contradicts and finally destroys. As a result, man is permanently unstable and

conflicted: ' H i s Body is but a M a s s of discording humours . . .

which though agreeing for a trace of time, yet can never be made uniform.' T h i s very discord is at once natural and the agency of death - it is the ' i n w a r d c a u s e of a n e c e s s a r y d i s s o l u t i o n ' . M a n is an entity 91

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so inherently and radically unstable, so contradictory, both psychically and physically, that 'we should rather wonder how so fragile a matter should so long endure, than how so soon dissolve, and decay'. This is hardly the fractured, dispersed post-modern subject, but the latter's antecedents are surely here. (And one significant difference between D r u m m o n d and some post-modernists is that, intellectually speaking, he at least knew where he was coming from.) M u t a b i l i t y is also experienced as a condition of radical psychic insecurity; D r u m m o n d succinctly remarks our perpetual vulnerability even, or especially, at the height of our power, when 'the glance of an Eye is sufficient to undo [us]' (pp. 148, 155, 151-2; my emphasis). What we might now call the neurosis, anxiety and alienation of the subject in crisis is not so much the consequence of its recent breakdown, but the very stuff of the subject's creation, and of the culture - western-European culture - which it sustains, especially in its most expansionist phases (of which Drummond's o w n period what we now call 'the Renaissance' - was undoubtedly one). If man is inhabited by mutability, and in a way which leads h i m inevitably deathward, it is this same mutability which imparts to h i m a restless, agonized energy. The crisis of the self is not so much the subjective counterpart of the demise, disintegration or undermining of westernEuropean culture as what energizes both the self and that culture. That is why, for D r u m m o n d , the terrible disharmony which is the dynamic of life as death, and which makes for the futility of desire, by the same token generates a kind of negative, forward-directed energy: [Man]

hath no sooner acquired what he d i d desire, but he beginneth to enter

into new Cares, and desire what he shall never be able to acquire . . . H e is pressed w i t h Care for what is present, w i t h Grief, for what is past, w i t h Fear of what is to come, nay, for what w i l l never come. (p. 153)

6

Again, it is in Augustine's C o n f e s s i o n s

(c. 397-401) that we find

one o f the most influential precedents for the way in which 'modern' subjectivity is founded in that same sense of crisis which imparts the restless expansionist energy which is the making of civilization itself. A u g u s t i n e suggests h o w i n d i v i d u a l i s m w a s f r o m the b e g i n n i n g ener-

gized by an inner dynamic of loss, conflict, doubt, absence and lack, and

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expansion - the sense that the identity of everything, from self to nation, is under centrifugal and potentially disintegrative pressures which have to be rigorously controlled. This is a k i n d of control that is always exceeding and breaking d o w n the very order it restlessly quests for, and is forever re-establishing its o w n rationale even as it undermines it. The experience of instability is inherited by Augustine and

deployed in a religious praxis; the subject in crisis becomes a

crucial element i n the triumph of Western individualism and all that this has meant. It is this which we have inherited; what we are living through n o w is not some (post-) modern collapse of Western subjectivity but another development of its enduring dynamic.

The mutable,

restless

self

In 1739 the philosopher D a v i d H u m e reconceptualized the self as completely mutable and entirely the prisoner of time. Even the meditation upon the self is pointless, according to H u m e , since the k i n d of self which meditation presupposed is non-existent. H u m e makes a crucial point: during introspection one's attention is always caught up i n the transient, fleeting impressions of consciousness itself. One can never get behind those impressions to something more substantial and

enduring. This leads h i m to repudiate the idea that 'we are

at every moment intimately conscious of what we call our S E L F ' . Observing that if he tries to concentrate upon his true self he can only settle on this or that fleeting perception, H u m e concludes that there is nothing else: we are 'nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed each other w i t h an inconceivable rapidity, and are i n a p e r p e t u a l f l u x a n d m o v e m e n t ' (pp. 299-301; my emphasis). For H u m e , 'There is properly no s i m p l i c i t y i n [the mind] at one time, nor i d e n t i t y in different.' There is absolutely nothing w i t h i n us which remains unalterably the same through flux and change — certainly not a soul, and not even an unchanging self. N o r does the mind have an unchanging nature or essence; it too is essentially discontinuous. W e are nothing more than the movement and flux of consciousness. Beyond these is pure non-being; without movement and flux we should be 'entirely annihilated' (p. 300). 93

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H u m e articulates the realization that, desire it as we may, there is no fullness of being in the present moment; ontologically the present is apparently more real — more present — than either the past or the future, and yet it always eludes us. So too does the self which we expect to find in the present moment. In a sense this means that we never ever experience pure existence; consciousness, desire, life itself are a movement towards an ever-elusive fullness of being. As Georges Bataille was to put it, the meaning of being is not so much actually being, but expecting to be - 'as if we never received b e i n g authentically, but only the anticipation of being, which w i l l be and is not, as if we were not the presence that we are, but the future that we w i l l be and are not' { A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II.81). T o argue that the so-called 'unified subject' is in part a retrospective projection of modern cultural theory - a convenient fiction which highlights the contrasting, subsequent, drama of the subject's supposed fall from unity - is not to suggest that the optimistic ideologies of Man

and the Individual have not made a profound difference. O f

course they have, as we shall see in Chapter 15 in relation to Feuerbach and

others. But we shall also see that these ideologies were rarely as

complacent as contemporary theory implies; they were often wrested from the threat of disintegration and death, or used to defend against them, or to struggle beyond them.

Deifying

death

The passage cited earlier from Ralegh's H i s t o r y of t h e W o r l d is only the more conventional section of an extraordinary address to death - more an encomium than a meditation. Even as he attributes to it the defeat of all human aspiration, Ralegh deifies and adulates death, and

to a blasphemous degree by comparing it w i t h G o d and finding

the latter wanting: death becomes a mocking tyrant even more powerful than G o d . Death's awe-full power is revered by Ralegh from a position of abjection; he is imprisoned, perhaps expecting death, and anyway is in a sense already dead, as he wrote to K i n g James after his conviction in 1603:

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T h e life w h i c h I had (most mighty prince) the law hath taken f r o m me; and I am n o w but the same earth and dust out of w h i c h I was first framed . . . B l o o d , name, gentry, or estate have I (now) none; no, not so much as a being . . . T h i s being the first letter that ever your majesty received f r o m a dead

man . . . ( W o r k s , VIII.646-7) T h i s is w h a t t h i s ' d e a d m a n ' w r i t e s o n d e a t h at the e n d o f the

History: [Death] puts into man all the w i s d o m of the w o r l d , without speaking a w o r d , w h i c h G o d , w i t h all the words of his l a w , promises, or threats, doth not infuse. D e a t h , w h i c h hateth and destroyeth m a n , is believed; G o d , w h i c h hath made h i m and loves h i m , is always deferred. J h a v e c o n s i d e r e d (saith

Solomon), all t h e w o r k s that

are under

the s u n , a n d , b e h o l d , all is

vanity

a n d v e x a t i o n of s p i r i t [Ecclesiastes 1:14], but w h o believes it till Death tells it us? . . . It is therefore Death alone that can suddenly make man to k n o w himself. . . O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! w h o m none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and w h o m all the w o r l d hath flattered, thou only hath cast out of the w o r l d and despised; thou hast d r a w n together all the far-fetched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of m a n , and covered it all over w i t h these two n a r r o w words: H i e jacet! ( H i s t o r y , p. 396) A n a d o r i n g i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h a ruthless o m n i p o t e n c e is m a d e f r o m a n e x p e r i e n c e o f i m p o t e n c e ; p r e c i s e l y because he is p o w e r l e s s , R a l e g h b e c o m e s b e h o l d e n t o the effortless, s t u p e n d o u s p o w e r o f a s u p e r i o r f o r c e . It is m o r e t h a n s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t d e a t h here takes the m a s c u l i n e g e n d e r (five t i m e s i n the f u l l t e x t ) . R a l e g h b o t h s u b m i t s t o a n d identifies w i t h d e a t h ; the s u b m i s s i o n is m a s o c h i s t i c , the i d e n t i f i c a t i o n s a d i s t i c o r at least v i n d i c t i v e . D e a t h is seen as o b l i v i o n a n d n o n - b e i n g , a n d as a n a k e d a b s o l u t e p o w e r . A n d , i f there is fear a n d a w e here, R a l e g h a l s o derives c o n s o l a t i o n f r o m d e a t h ' s p r o m i s e o f the o b l i t e r a t i o n o f a l l differences, i n c l u d i n g t h a t b e t w e e n h u m a n f a i l u r e a n d h u m a n success. W e m i g h t a l s o d i s c e r n here a state o f m i n d w h i c h i n o u r o w n t i m e has been c a l l e d i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h the o p p r e s s o r , n o t least i n t h a t i n t e r p l a y o f p o w e r a n d desire w h i c h recalls Sir T h o m a s W y a t t ' s Penitential Psalms.

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I find illuminating Stephen Greenblatt's account of how, in these psalms, desire - what Wyatt calls 'hot affect' - is transferred from mistress to G o d by a characteristically Protestant wish to submit to the domination of a severe divinity which w i l l spur the poet to righteousness: I, lo! from mine error Am

plunged up; as horse out of the mire

W i t h stroke of spur.

A terror of G o d leads him to see that, in his flesh, Is not one point of firm stability; Nor

Such

in my bones there is no steadfastness:

is my dread

of mutability

...

(Psalm 38; my emphasis)

Greenblatt finds here an 'ascent through the acceptance of domination', with the corollary that while, for Wyatt, sexuality in its natural state is aggressive and predatory, in its redeemed state it is passive: 'Sexual aggression . . . is transferred entirely to the sphere of transcendent power' { R e n a i s s a n c e S e l f - F a s h i o n i n g , p. 123). A n internalized, dreaded mutability, experienced as desire, leads to abject identification with an omnipotent, vengeful G o d . T o regard this sexualizing of the religious experience as commonplace or conventional is only to say that it probably requires closer attention than that usually given it by those who w o u l d describe it thus. For Wyatt it w o u l d seem that, if the lack of 'firm stability' and, its corollary, a 'dread of mutability' bind mutability into desire, they are also what provokes the identification with a powerful coherence that is elsewhere and other. Similarly, in his H o l y S o n n e t s Donne describes how desire, having intensified the working of death and mutability in himself 'not one hour I can myself sustain' (1.12) - now requires an abject, adoring, masochistic, erotic prostration before G o d : Batter my heart, three-personed G o d ; for, you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; T h a t I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

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Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new. I like a usurped town, to another due, Labour to admit you, but oh, to no end . . . (XIV.

i-6)

W h e n Donne preaches his famous last sermon he is literally dying while also (it is not the same thing) speaking from the position of death. A s he does so he both submits to and, a s p r e a c h e r , identifies with death. A n d for h i m too G o d seems less impressive than death, whose disintegrative effects are dwelt on w i t h awe. Let and

us finally recall the precedent of Augustine, for w h o m death mutability are punishments for transgression. But these are not

externally imposed punishments; they are 'propagated' from w i t h i n , and

so radically that to be living is only to be dying. Sexual orgasm

is a k i n d of death, an extinction of self, and in sexual desire more generally the self contends against itself and control is completely lost - the body's members become anarchic - literally epitomized in the unruly male erection. A g a i n , this leads to abject identification w i t h an omnipotent G o d : 'incorruptible, and inviolable and immutable' ( C o n f e s s i o n s , 7.1). Identification w i t h and submission to such power substitutes for the stability which is always lacking, and is just one aspect of the restless quest which that lack compels.

M i s o g y n y and the gendering o f mutability And

I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and

nets, and her hands as bands: whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her. (Ecclesiastes 7:26) Book I X of M i l t o n ' s P a r a d i s e L o s t describes Satan persuading Eve to eat of the 'tree of knowledge forbidden'. In doing so she is 'eating death'. M i l t o n ' s retelling of the Fall narrative indicates some of the erotic and psychic complexity involved i n the blaming of w o m a n for bringing death into the w o r l d . Realizing what Eve has done, A d a m is horrified, but, 'perceiving her lost, resolves through vehemence of love to perish w i t h her'. A d a m tells Eve that Satan 'me w i t h thee hath

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ruined, for w i t h thee / Certain my resolution is to die'. Simply, even in his (as yet) unfallen state, he cannot live without her. But living w i t h her is to admit death into life: Should G o d create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee W o u l d never from my heart; no no, I feel T h e link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh, Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state M i n e never shall be parted, bliss or woe. . . . I w i t h thee have fixed my lot, Certain to undergo like d o o m , if death Consort w i t h thee, d e a t h is t o m e as life O u r state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself. (Argument; 1. 792; Argument; 11. 906-7,

911-16, 952-4, 958-9; my emphasis) In Shakespeare's sonnets mutability is a recurring theme of the verses 7

supposedly addressed to the young man. But the so-called dark lady sonnets are equally important, because it is here that we again see mutability being internalized as the cause of desire's impossible vicissitudes. In Sonnet 20 the poet seeks to differentiate, in terms of mutability, the (good) beauty of the young man from the (bad) beauty of women: A woman's face, w i t h Nature's o w n hand painted, Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted W i t h shifting change, as is false woman's fashion; A n eye more bright than theirs, less false i n rolling . . .

It is not simply that masculine beauty is good and feminine beauty bad; the young man is as beautiful as he is only because he partakes of feminine beauty. But this makes it even more necessary to 'split' feminine beauty, making its good qualities even better i n a masculine context, and its bad qualities definitively bad i n the feminine one. In a sense the poet also has to split beauty itself: he has to separate off 98

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from 'true' beauty the condition of 'shifting change' which is its precondition. O f course he knows this: 'everything that grows / H o l d s in perfection but a little moment' (Sonnet 15). The gendering and displacing of mutability, the way that 'shifting change' is made the condition of the 'false w o m a n ' , is a familiar misogynist strategy. But these sonnets convey also that such misogyny does not cancel sexual desire for women but remains an inextricable part of it. A l s o , mutability is identified as an exclusively

female

attribute precisely because it is i n fact the internal dynamic of male desire. The poet knows this too: one minute his desire is being rendered unstably mutable by its o w n confusions, the next minute it is being decayed by its o w n excess: '[I] i n mine o w n love's strength seem to decay, / O'ercharged w i t h burden of mine o w n love's might' (Sonnet 23; cf. Sonnet 80: ' M y love was decay). W i t h Augustine, Wyatt, Ralegh and Donne the experience of mutability and death invites identification w i t h an omnipotent power w h i c h is elsewhere and other — i n Wyatt's and Augustine's case it is God;

i n Ralegh's it is death as a surrogate absolute; i n Donne's it is

probably both. A n aside i n A l l ' s W e l l T h a t E n d s W e l l illustrates yet another k i n d of identification; it occurs i n the form of a reproach to him

who w o u l d prefer sexual congress to warfare, Spending his manly m a r r o w i n her arms, W h i c h should sustain the b o u n d and high curvet O f M a r s ' s fiery steed.

(II.iii.278-80) T o spend sexually: this is another commonplace. But consider what is implied here: 'manly m a r r o w ' , a self-defining energy and essence constitutive of one's power and one's identity, is being wasted i n a way w h i c h is debilitating. T o avoid both waste and debilitation, manly m a r r o w is identified w i t h a higher power, military and homosocial; it supports that power and i n turn is sustained by it. This masculine, 8

military power wreaks waste and debilitation on the w o r l d . In other words, mutability is transferred from a sexual to a social domain where it is reproduced on a colossal scale. Here that 'poor benefit of a bewitching minute' (Tourneur, III.v.75), the pathetic, debilitating simulacrum of death, is imagined to be hugely empowered through 99

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participation in heroic conquest; the experience of desire as death undergoes a sublimation and a displacement whereby the self is empowered rather than enfeebled through a perpetuation of death on the battlefield. A suffering for, and an identification with, a higher power: this is one response to the internalization of mutability. At this time the pun on 'die' as both death and orgasm was another commonplace. For us, though not for the Elizabethans, the common9

place forecloses on what it recognizes - it allows us to see partially in order not to see fully. For one thing this idea of propagation as self-death was (ironically indeed, given the dangers of childbirth) mainly a male anxiety: to retain semen was thought to maximize physical strength, whereas to ejaculate was a potentially dangerous squandering of energy. Excessive loss of semen w o u l d not only debilitate, but might even result in the individual's death. This was because semen was thought to include some essential, life-sustaining constituents of the brain and of the bone-marrow which, during intercourse, descended d o w n the spine and were expended in ejaculation. As M e r r y E. Weisner reminds us, such ideas remained powerfully if obscurely influential in early modern witch-hunting: 'Intercourse with female demons

(succubi)

was especially threatening, for such

creatures

attempted to draw out as much semen as possible, thus drastically debilitating any man' (p. 226). The general idea that the loss of semen is a loss of life-sustaining essences is much older; it is, for example, a topic of debate for classical writers in the fourth century B C . Aristotle believed it was this loss which explained the dejection which followed intercourse.

10

But what begins as a mainly medical idea becomes

increasingly also a problem of desire as self-squandering and death. There are other respects in which the pervasive misogyny of this period connects with the same male fear. This is Donne: For that first marriage was our funeral: One w o m a n at one b l o w , then killed us a l l , A n d singly, one by one, they k i l l us now. W e do delightfully ourselves allow T o that consumption; and profusely b l i n d , W e k i l l ourselves to propagate our k i n d .

(An A n a t o m y of the World,

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F a e r i e Q u e e n e imagines mutability as a violent and

hubristic goddess w h o inverts and perverts the order and stability of nature. T h i s (invented) goddess even precipitates the greatest catastrophe of a l l , the F a l l , and so brings death into the w o r l d such that the baby sucks not life from its nurse, but death; she . . . death for life exchanged foolishly: Since which, all living wights have learn'd to die, And

all this world is waxen daily worse.

O piteous worke of

Mutability*.

By which, we are all subject to that curse, And

death in stead of life have sucked from our Nurse. ('Two Cantos of Mutabilitie', VII.vi.6.4-9; cf. 5.4 and 6.3)

After mutability, then, what sustains life is nothing more — or less than death.

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7 'Desire is Death': Shakespeare

In Shakespeare's sonnets mutability is what threatens to decay the object of desire (the young man), but it is also what erupts inside the restless desire for h i m , making it an experience of lack and 'torture', a condition in which the poet can 'no quiet find' (Sonnets 27, 28).

1

This is even more marked in the dark lady sonnets. Sonnet 129 is about the self-destructive contradictions which seemingly make desire impossible: T h ' expense of spirit i n a waste of shame Is lust i n action, and, till action, lust Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had, Past reason hated as a swallowed bait O n purpose laid to make the taker mad . . .

Yet, as has often been remarked, this sonnet has the confident rhythm, poise and pace of high formal control. Desire is consciously sublimated into the performance of form, so that in the very expression of disintegration there is an arrogant excess of control. John Kerrigan has remarked how, in the sonnets, Shakespeare copes w i t h the effects of time through a controlling repetition so that 'even sonnets devoted to a description of Time's violence . . . provisionally recover in their formal discipline something of what T i m e takes'

(Shakespeare,

S o n n e t s , ed. Kerrigan, p. 45). Aesthetic order compensates for loss. In those sonnets where mutability has been internalized as desire this process is even more marked; the poet empowers himself through a 102

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coherent expression of desire's deeply destructive incoherence. But given that Sonnet 129 speaks of lust, not love, it might be said that it is only the former which remains imprisoned in a self-destructive obsessive desire for another, and that this is exactly what true love transcends; in marriage, love delivers harmony - albeit of a banal kind: M a r k h o w one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each i n each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, W h o , all i n one, one pleasing note do sing . . . (Sonnet 8)

T h e trouble w i t h this distinction between love and lust is that it makes the latter a dumping-ground for everything unacceptable about the former-especially what it potentially always shares w i t h 'lust', namely infatuation, obsession, fantasy and fetishism. W h i c h perhaps is why Sonnet 147 articulates a similar experience, precisely describing it now as love and not lust - a love wrecked by the desire it w o u l d contain. M o r e acutely, desire wrecks its o w n most perfect conventional expression, and formal discipline remains only to signify the impossibility of the harmony it w o u l d impose: M y love is as a fever, longing still F o r that w h i c h longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that w h i c h doth preserve the i l l , T h ' u n c e r t a i n sickly appetite to please. M y reason, the physician to my love, A n g r y that his prescriptions are not kept, H a t h left me, and I desperate n o w approve Desire is death, w h i c h physic d i d except. Past cure I a m , n o w reason is past care, A n d frantic-mad w i t h evermore unrest; M y thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, A t r a n d o m f r o m the truth, vainly expressed: F o r I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, W h o art as black as hell, as dark as night.

H e r e the desire o f the p o e t is so mutable it becomes completely 103

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impossible; his is a longing whose object, far from giving satisfaction, only intensifies that impossibility: ' M y love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease'. H i s longing leaves the poet 'frantic-mad with evermore unrest', possessed by thoughts ' A t random from the truth, vainly express'd'. Hence: 7 d e s p e r a t e n o w a p p r o v e I D e s i r e is d e a t h ' . The starkness of the statement should not obscure a lingering ambiguity and ambivalence: it means most obviously 'I experience, I demonstrate - reluctantly, in desperation - that desire is death': less obviously, yet just as literally, it means 'I "approve" that desire is death': 'Racked with an impossible, contradictory, selfannihilating desire, I desire death.'

T i m e a n dt h e y o u n g

m a n

For the young man of these sonnets, narcissistic self-regard is not, apparently, a reason for reproducing (that being the rational narrative offered by the poet) but, on the contrary, the basis of an erotic c o m p l i c i t y w i t h mutability, and even death. The poet declares, ' N o r shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade' (Sonnet 18), but that's just what this 'self-willed' youth would risk: Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend U p o n thyself thy beauty's legacy? For having traffic with thyself alone, T h o u of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive. (Sonnet 4)

Since the poet couches the reproach in onanistic terms, we might infer that what he chides he may also desire; even as he reprimands the youth for having sex with himself, the poet is attracted by the spectacle - or at least the fantasy - of a sexuality which is narcissistic and reckless. H e is fascinated by the youth's temporary, fragile beauty ('whose action is no stronger than a flower' - Sonnet 65), by the fact that it becomes momentarily more perfect within the same time that w i l l destroy it (Sonnet 126), and by the youth's narcissistic disregard of precisely this fate. 104

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Perhaps, then, the exhortation to reproduce and to live according to thrift, calculation, contract, profit, audit is a conventional façade for a different k i n d of interest in the young man. If so, it w o u l d help explain why, even as time, death and mutability are deplored in the sonnets, their indifferent power is strangely revered; why an acute sense of physical beauty is inflected by an even more acute fascination w i t h mutability and loss. So much so that there are occasions when the young man is more a foil, even a willing sacrifice, to time and mutability than an object of desire to be rescued from them. Beauty becomes not just the victim of time but its measure - even, in places, its effect. Put another way, although the poet is attracted to the young man, he also identifies w i t h the destructive effects of time; there is a strange and compelling complicity between time and its chronicler such that we might go so far as to say that the author of the sonnets is enamoured more of death than of the boy. A g a i n , as w i t h Donne, Ralegh and the others, inside the submission to death is an identification w i t h it. It is, after all, a resonant and indicative irony that, despite the poet's alleged wish to immortalize h i m , and much scholarly detective w o r k since, we do not k n o w who the young man was. ' Y o u r name from hence i m m o r t a l life shall have,' says the poet, yet the young man is precisely not named or otherwise identified. In fact we are given no vivid individual representation of h i m at all. The poet says that his verse w i l l distil the 'truth' or essence of the youth, but there is precious little of that either. In some sonnets it is as if the young man is not only a foil to mutability, but someone the poet wants to see destroyed by it. T h e poet is obviously ambivalent towards the young man: 'civil war is in my love and hate' (Sonnet 35). A n d , as Sonnet 70 makes clear, to be desired is not necessarily to be liked; beauty incurs resentment as well as desire. F r o m these sonnets we are reminded that desire can itself be a k i n d of resentment, and a devious one at that. Consider how the poet's confession of his abjection is usually strategic. In Sonnet 6 6 he cries for 'restful death', and he welcomes its prospect again i n Sonnets 71 and 72. Death is imagined as both the cessation and the crowning expression of his abjection, and he masochistically fantasizes his o w n death as the supreme occasion of achieving attention and sympathy, only to insist that he deserves neither. 105

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The poet scrutinizes the youth for signs of decline, and indirectly makes him the repository of death: ' T h o u art the grave where buried love doth live' (Sonnet 31). O f himself the poet declares, 'I, once gone, to all the w o r l d must die' (Sonnet 81). N o t quite. H i s investment in his verse is clearly a compensation for disappointment in love - not least because he knows his verse w i l l outlast his desire for, and the beauty of, the love object. In Sonnet 78 he not only acknowledges that the youth's beauty has liberated his verse, but insists on his verse's authenticity and value compared with superficial imitations. So, when he is announcing his concern to immortalize that beauty, he may more plausibly be consciously sublimating his own frustrated desire for it into the kind of cultural capital that beauty can never compete with nor even securely exchange itself for. Even as he is ostensibly writing to urge the boy to guard against loss by reproducing, the poet is compensating through writing for his o w n loss. H e empowers himself by writing unforgettably of the powerlessness of everything under the sway of time. By a miracle, says the poet, ' i n black ink my love may still shine bright' (Sonnet 65). ' M y love' is surely strategically ambiguous, referring primarily to the beloved, but also to the poet's love for h i m . O f the two, it's the latter which has lasted. Desire for the boy manifests itself as ambivalent - both to save him from time and to sacrifice him to it. It issues in some of the most memorable descriptions of mutability and loss ever written: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, H o w w i t h this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O , h o w shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, N o r gates of steel so strong but T i m e decays? (Sonnet 65)

The most obvious reason why the youth is urged to reproduce is in order to perpetuate himself. There are other reasons given - including for the sake of the w o r l d generally, for the sake of the child's mother, for the sake of the poet, even for the sake of the harmony of the family 106

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(Sonnets 3,10, 8) - but all of these reasons are subordinated to (though by the same token implicated in) the overriding reason: he is urged to reproduce in order to defy, or at least to mitigate, the effects of mutability. A l l the foregoing - youth, mother, poet - are at once participants i n and victims of a life process of which mutability is both the essence and what destroys it: For never-resting T i m e leads summer o n T o hideous winter and confounds h i m there, Sap checked w i t h frost and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o'ersnowed and bareness everywhere . . . (Sonnet 5)

Death as fact or event is subsidiary to a mutability which is ever-active, even i n death (Sonnet 6), and ever-evocative of the failure of individual life. Simply, 'nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defense, / Save breed, to brave h i m when he takes thee hence' (Sonnet 1 2 ) . O r rather not 'simply', since the child must also succumb to time. M u t a b i l i t y enters desire sometimes as a dynamic of change, but more often as an entropic decline or a stultifying contradiction. It also figures as the 'barren rage of death's eternal cold' (Sonnet 13) — at once a silence and a violence, a privation and a force. If one recurring image of mutability is that which shows the actual devastation of time, another, perhaps even more powerful, is that which anticipates the inevitable future devastation which is somehow inside the present moment, the present beauty. Ralegh writes of death holding a mirror before the most beautiful and making them 'see therein their deformity and rottenness'; for Shakespeare T h e wrinkles w h i c h thy glass w i l l truly show O f mouthed graves, w i l l give thee memory; T h o u by thy dial's shady stealth mayst k n o w T i m e ' s thievish progress to eternity . . . (Sonnet 77)

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R o m e o and Juliet Everything I've described so far about the death/desire dynamic, and the internalization of mutability as desire, suggests the importance of fantasy. The origins of fantasy include the trauma of mutability. A supreme illustration of this is Shakespeare's R o m e o i a n d J u l i e t . That this is a play about the paradoxical binding together of desire and

death is clear enough: in the Prologue the pass on of the young

lovers is described as a 'death-marked love'; Capulet laments that 'Life, living, all is Death's' (IV.iv.67). It has been said that Romeo, when he incites 'love-devouring death' (II.v.7), is desiring and not defying death, and that his belief that Juliet is dead in the tomb is less the cause of his o w n suicide than the excuse for it. H e finds that 'unsubstantial death is amorous' and makes ' A dateless bargain to engrossing death/. . ./Thus w i t h a kiss I die' (V.iii. 103,115-20). Once again death does not so much defeat desire as emerge from within it, as the dynamic of desire itself - as love, or rather death, at first sight. The death/desire convergence in this play has been interestingly considered by Denis de Rougemont and Julia Kristeva. W e have already looked at de Rougemont's account of how, i n the Western tradition, passionate love and death feed off each other in ways epitomized in the T r i s t a n a n d I s e u l t myth (above, Chapter 4). For him

there are two related senses in which desire as conceptualized i n

the myth can be said to be impossible. One concerns the way in which desire actively seeks the obstacles that prevent its realization and thereby intensify its tendency to self-annihilation. The other suggests an even more fundamental ontological impossibility. Heretical mysticism in the twelfth century, by fatally confusing divine eros with human desire, begins that long obsession which is nothing less than an 'impossible love . . . a truly devouring ardour, a thirst which death alone could quench'. De Rougemont regards R o m e o a n d J u l i e t as 'the most magnificent resuscitation of the myth that the w o r l d was to be given' until Wagner's T r i s t a n a n d I s o l d e ( L o v e i n t h e W e s t e r n W o r l d , pp.

145, 178-9, 201, 243). For Julia Kristeva, too, this play shows how 'erotic expenditure is

a race towards death' - but for an entirely different reason. The race 108

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towards death occurs not because of the fatal m i x i n g of religion and sexuality, but because of the inherent ambivalence of the lovers' desire for each other, and of desire itself. Because, i n short, of the hatred which the lovers feel for each other. F o l l o w i n g Freud's famous contention in I n s t i n c t s a n d t h e i r V i c i s s i t u d e s that, in the relation to the other, hatred is more ancient than love, Kristeva cites Juliet's ' M y only love, sprung from my only hate!' (I.v.140). Kristeva declares, 'hatred consumes them i n the purest moments of their passion' even as they believe they have overcome the hatred of their times. Their hatred is not to be confused w i t h the social hostility between the two families; this last is the k i n d of hatred one can look in the eye, and its very existence obscures the other, deeper, kind: the familial, social curse is more respectable and bearable than the unconscious hatred of the lovers for each other. T h e fact remains that Juliet's jouissance is often stated through the anticipation — the desire? - of Romeo's death, (p. 221)

Kristeva also rejects the familiar and relatively comforting view that 'love must die . . . that eros and the law are incompatible . . .' N o : ' M o r e deeply, more passionately, we are dealing w i t h the intrinsic presence of hatred in [desire] i t s e l f , a hatred 'at the very origin of the amatory surge' (p. 222). Both accounts are intriguing, but both overlook the extent to which this play is, crucially, a f a n t a s y r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of desire overdetermined by the trauma of mutability. M o r e generally, as theatrical event, this play is not just about desire between two people, but about desire itself as a fantasy projection, a wish-fulfilment complete w i t h perverse complications. R o m e o a n d J u l i e t is also an adult fantasy a b o u t adolescent desire. It's no secret that adolescent sexuality contains a powerful erotic charge for the adult, regardless of sexual orientation. G a y people tend to be explicit about this, but the institutions of heterosexuality are also manifestly invigorated by such eroticism, albeit in more sublimated and displaced forms. A n d sometimes, of course, in ways not sublimated, e.g. incest; or in ways half sublimated and half sanctioned, as for instance when Capulet, Juliet's father, encourages Paris to seduce his daughter. This was, of course, a commonplace arrangement — a calculated exchange of a daughter within and on behalf of 109

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patriarchy. But it may also involve the father identifying with the prospective son-in-law as sexual partner. Initially Capulet tells Paris that Juliet is too young to marry. H e nevertheless sympathizes w i t h what 'lusty young men feel' i n spring, and so he invites Paris to gaze on Juliet amidst many other beautiful young women at his, Capulet's, house that night: . . . even such delight A m o n g fresh female buds shall y o u this night Inherit at my house . . . (I.ii.26-8)

Later, in the context of mourning the death of one young man, his nephew Tybalt, and seemingly anticipating his o w n death ('Well, we were born to die', III.iv.4), he abruptly changes his mind and arranges a hasty marriage for Juliet and Paris. Juliet resists, and Capulet coerces her brutally. T o modify Freud's insight on narcissism, we might say that the father, confronted with the death of a young kinsman, and in anticipation of his o w n death, experiences with a new urgency the need to give his daughter to the k i n d of young man he (and Tybalt?) once was — or the k i n d of young man he once wanted to be, or, perhaps, who others once wanted h i m to be. Certainly Capulet's wish to marry Juliet has been an obsessive, long-standing one: D a y , night; w o r k , play; A l o n e , i n company, still my care hath been T o have her matched . . .

Paris fits the predictable patriarchal bill - ' A gentleman of noble parentage, / O f fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly lined'. But that 'youthful' unpacks into something more - something like an erotic homosocial bonding in which an impersonal 'one' is the place where Capulet's erotic identification is projected as Juliet's desire: Stuff'd as they say, w i t h honourable parts, Proportioned as one's thought w o u l d wish a man A n y o u be mine, I'll give you to my friend . . . (III.v.176-91)

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For the adult generally, but perhaps especially for the father, adolescent sexuality is something idealized from the position of loss. (For Capulet, Tybalt's death accentuates that loss.) W h i c h means that adults behold adolescent desire ambivalently, and this is perhaps one reason why, i n this play, patriarchal love so often and so quickly turns to hate. T h i s is partly because of a fear of illicit sex and the threat to inheritance w h i c h that might entail. Important though this is, it is not sufficient to explain why a father like Capulet, faced w i t h a daughter who resists his marriage arrangement for her, behaves w i t h the vehemence of a spurned lover. Accusing his daughter of 'peevish, self-willed harlotry' (IV.ii.14), he is eager to banish Juliet, consigning her to social death certainly, and even to a literal one: 'hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, / F o r , by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee' (III.5.1923). Adults behold adolescent desire ambivalently because theirs is a gaze invested w i t h hope - a gaze socially sanctioned in the name of hope - yet haunted by loss. The family is supposed to mediate between the two. If death is projected from this ambivalence it may be to pre-empt or avenge the failure and loss which haunt adult desire, and certainly it attests to the failure of the family's mediating role. Often in plays like this one the death/desire conjunction anticipates that later romantic conjoining of sexuality and death; the resonant early modern pun on orgasm as death becomes the even more resonant romantic fantasy i n which the momentary obliteration of self which sexual ecstasy (orgasm) affords is arrested, at once prolonged and dissolved — prolonged by being dissolved - into the stasis of death — not so much to perpetuate ecstasy as, again, to pre-empt the failure and loss w h i c h is mutability. A t its most romantically intense this manifests as the barely unconscious wish that death - in one respect the cause or at least the condition of mutability - is invoked, embraced, in order to banish mutability: in order to banish one k i n d of loss (mutability) another k i n d (death) is embraced. Loss pre-empts loss. In Romeo and Juliet there is already a sense of this later tendency, especially i n Romeo's description of death as 'unsubstantial'. But if, as I'm suggesting, in this play at least it is the adult not the adolescent who is identifying ecstasy w i t h death, it raises the question: W h o is identifying w i t h Romeo? W h o is Romeo? I'm reluctant to regard the death desire in Romeo and Juliet as intrinsically 'adolescent'.

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For one thing the reckless excess of adolescent desire is too endearing and insightful for me to want to deny to it that wisdom which is antithetical to the sensible (the adult's masquerade). M o r e importantly, in this play it's much more the case that adolescent desire becomes itself the object of ambivalent desire, and that the erotics of death - death at first sight - far from being the intrinsic condition of adolescent desire, are another aspect of the adult's ambivalent gaze. Hence that desiring gaze for Juliet dead: 'Death lies on her like an untimely frost / U p o n the sweetest flower of all the field' (IV.v.28-9). This spectacle of death is unbearable yet not undesired, because here death arrests beauty; transience, decay, decline, failure (including parental impotence) are pre-empted in and through 'untimely' death. But then not quite, or rather not at all: at this stage Juliet is drugged and only apparently dead. Here and in the tomb she is brought into the closest possible proximity to decay and decomposition, while being still very much alive. Beauty and death are fantasized as antithetically proximate. A n d when Juliet finally succumbs to death proper, it's again in a way whereby death momentarily enhances the beauty it has claimed: ' A n d Juliet, bleeding, w a r m and newly dead' (V.ii.174). This is a fantasy redolent of that pathos which is synonymous w i t h the tragic vision - a vision which borders on the obscene precisely because and not in spite of its w i s d o m .

2

Romeo also kills himself. N o t surprisingly perhaps: he's unhappy, having lost his other half. Here we could invoke Aristophanes' founding narrative of desire and death. Romeo might indeed be explained in these terms were it not that he has earlier switched his uncompromising desire from Rosaline to Juliet. A g a i n , it w o u l d be evasive to dismiss this as the fickleness of an immature, adolescent love. Let's say rather that Romeo's desire is already rather adult, at once fixated and mobile: on the one hand subject to compulsive repetition, on the other swept along by history. As the Prologue to Act II puts it, the previous love object 'for which love groan'd for and w o u l d die' is itself now dead: ' N o w old desire doth in his death-bed lie'. But Romeo is by n o means free o f desire: he 'loves again, / A l i k e bewitched by the charm of looks' (Il.Prologue). W h i c h means that, for h i m , desire is a serious business, a state of lack which, though in 112

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no way indifferent as to its objects, substitutes and replaces them w i t h that inconstancy which 'true' love always disavows but never avoids. There is no distinction here between true and false, mature and adolescent, love: true love also, in its sexual forms, is inherently mutable. Lacan has said 'there is no such thing as the sexual relationship [rapport sexuel]' ((Feminine Sexuality, p. 143). If only to avoid incurring the anger of those who are in love, one is tempted to settle for this proposition in its weaker form: there is no such thing as a sexual relationship w h i c h lasts. But that's not it; definitely not: for R o m e o , Lacan's formulation is to the point. In all this Romeo is the sublime adolescent - which is to say he is already o l d , already contracted to death, the object and creation of the desiring, ambivalent, adult gaze - as, i n a different way, is the young man of the sonnets.

]'Be absolute

for

death'

In Shakespeare's Measure for Measure there is a fascinating scene i n which a young man, Claudio, imprisoned and awaiting execution for fornication, is visited by a friar who urges that he reconcile himself to death. The audience knows that all is not what it seems: the friar is really D u k e Vincentio, the ruler of the city (Vienna). Earlier i n the play we saw h i m strategically retiring from the place of authority and handing the reins of power to others. The city is experiencing political and social disruption; according to the D u k e , the people have become virtually ungovernable. H e has delegated other, temporary, rulers to restore a strict order, especially in the sexual affairs of the people. Hence Claudio's arrest and impending punishment for having 'got his friend w i t h child' (I.iv.27). C l a u d i o is at the very least a scapegoat, but it is more complicated than that: not for the first time, more fundamental political instabilities are being focused in a witch-hunt against promiscuity. C l a u d i o , who isn't even guilty of promiscuity, is caught up i n a crisis which unleashes a potent blend of political paranoia and shrewd machiavellianism.

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N o r can he resist testing out his new-found religious power (the play is in part about the relationship between the respective powers of State and Church) - hence his visit to ]Claudio in prison. There he delivers one of the more famous speeches from Shakespeare, which begins 'Be absolute for death]'. What we witness here is the philosophy of death being explicitly put to ideological use: the Duke has already set in motion a programme of overt, draconian political repression; what he is doing now is testing the power of a philosophy of death, here delivered w i t h all the ideological authority of the C h u r c h , to encourage voluntary, internalized compliance to complement the overt repression. The Duke wants to get both ]Claudio and, later, another prisoner called Barnadine to want to die. H i s speech begins thus: Be absolute for death: either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus w i t h life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing T h a t none but fools w o u l d keep.

Mutability reaches into, even constitutes, identity: T h o u art not thyself; F o r thou exists on many a thousand grains T h a t issue out of d u s t . . .

M u t a b i l i t y also reaches into desire, and in a way which renders it difficult T h o u are not certain; F o r thy complexion shifts to strange effects After the m o o n . . .

if not impossible H a p p y thou art not; F o r what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, A n d what thou hast, ]forget'st.

Death is the eternal release from an identity and a desire - identity as desire - tormented by mutability and founded on the contradiction that life is a k i n d of death ('in this life lie hid moe thousand deaths') which, in being avoided, is only hastened: 'For [death] thou labour'st 114

'DESIRE

IS

DEATH': SHAKESPEARE

by thy flight to shun / A n d yet runn'st towards h i m still' (III.i.5-40). For a while at least, C l a u d i o is dutifully convinced: I humbly thank y o u . T o sue to live I find I seek to die, A n d seeking death, find life. Let it come o n . (III.i.42-4) M o m e n t s later, speaking to his sister, he eroticizes his very willingness to die: If I must die, I w i l l encounter darkness as a bride A n d hug it i n mine arms. (III.i.82-4) But, shortly after the D u k e leaves, his desire to live returns, stronger than ever. W h a t is being dramatized here is the way i n which a philosophy of death appears to w o r k as an ideology of social control, converting transgressive desire into complete submission to authority, even to the point of welcoming death - only to fail. Later w i t h Barnadine it fails completely, without even a semblance of success. But even that is not the end of the matter. The philosophy of death has a wider significance i n the play, especially the idea that desire is somehow programmed to self-destruct. C l a u d i o gives it one of its most powerful metaphorical expressions i n Shakespeare,

4

and this even before the

D u k e has got to h i m : O u r natures do pursue, L i k e rats that ravin d o w n their proper bane, A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die. (I.ii.120—22)

In tracing the connections between death and desire i n the early modern period, I've considered the way in which desire experiences the fatality of eventual death in terms of an ever-present mutability: death is not merely the eventual termination of life, but an impossible mutability within life itself. The for-ever of eventual death becomes 115

D E A T H ,

D E S I R E

A N D

LOSS

IN

W E S T E R N

C U L T U R E

the ever-present process of mutability in life - Shakespeare's 'evermore unrest', Herbert's 'incessant motion', Drummond's 'inward cause of a necessary dissolution'. O f course death reduces us to dust, but to apprehend this process is to experience not only physical dissolution, but also, and more desperately, the hollowing of life from within into desire as loss; a radical mutability lives internally as desire. Death is experienced as life's inner impossibility, and, more specifically, mutability is experienced as the inner impossibility of desire. Hence that paradoxical double-despair characteristic of the mutability tradition: first, death and mutability are seen as not only thwarting desire, but rendering it impossible; second, death is welcome as total annihilation, and mutability as at once its truth and what is cancelled by it. Thus is desire enclosed catastrophically, immediately, in that which w o u l d otherwise deteriorate it only eventually, yet ineluctably, i n t i m e . In the process this internalization of death as desire is both gendered and displaced, and generates a fantasy which saturates social as well as psychic life and invests power in complex, fatal and revealing ways. In all such ways the early modern may be said to anticipate the modern.

116

Ill SOCIAL

DEATH

8 The Denial of Death?

'The denial of death': the phrase is Freud's, from h i s 1 9 1 5 essay ' O u r Attitude towards Death', written when the First W o r l d W a r had been under way for about six months. Before the war, says Freud, the prevailing attitude to mortality had amounted to such a denial, which he further characterizes (twice) as 'cultural and conventional' and w h i c h took the form of a forgetting: ' W e showed an unmistakable tendency to put death on one side, to eliminate it f r o m life. We tried to hush it u p . ' The trauma of war, warns Freud, w i l l require a change of attitude, or rather a return to an older attitude, such that now 'If you want to endure life, prepare yourself for death' (pp. 7 8 , 8 4 , 7 7 , 89).

M a n y writers on death have agreed with Freud about this denial of death, although they have disagreed about when it began. Walter Benjamin, writing in 1 9 3 6 , speaks of it as having been occurring for several centuries, but as getting worse i n our o w n : D y i n g w a s once a p u b l i c process i n the life o f the i n d i v i d u a l a n d a m o s t e x e m p l a r y one; t h i n k o f the m e d i e v a l pictures i n w h i c h the d e a t h b e d

has

t u r n e d i n t o a t h r o n e t o w a r d w h i c h the p e o p l e press t h r o u g h the w i d e - o p e n d o o r s o f the death house. In the course o f m o d e r n times d y i n g has

been

p u s h e d further a n d further out o f the p e r c e p t u a l w o r l d o f the l i v i n g . T h e r e u s e d to be n o h o u s e , h a r d l y a r o o m , i n w h i c h s o m e o n e h a d n o t once d i e d . ( T h e M i d d l e A g e s a l s o felt s p a t i a l l y w h a t m a k e s t h a t i n s c r i p t i o n o n a s u n d i a l o f I b i z a , Ultima multis [the l a s t d a y f o r m a n y ] , s i g n i f i c a n t as t h e t e m p e r of the times.) T o d a y people live i n r o o m s that have never been t o u c h e d by death, dry dwellers of eternity, and w h e n their end approaches s t o w e d a w a y i n s a n a t o r i a o r hospitals b y their heirs, (pp. 9 3 - 4 )

119

they

are

D E A T H , D E S I R E A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N C U L T U R E

This attitude of forgetting had, apparently, become so habitual by the early twentieth century that the First W o r l d W a r did not make the difference Freud thought it would or should. N o r , according to later writers, did the Second W o r l d W a r ; if anything the extent of the denial became even greater. In an influential essay of 1 9 5 5 , 'The Pornography of Death', Geoffrey Gorer spoke of how death had become not so much forgotten as tabooed, suppressed and unmentionable - almost obscene. The natural processes of corruption and decay had become disgusting, and any consideration of them was regarded as unhealthy and morbid: 'the ugly facts are relentlessly hidden; the art of the embalmers is the art of complete denial' (p. 1 7 2 ) . Twenty-two years later Philippe Aries concluded his major study of death with the claim that in 'the most industrialized, urbanized, and technologically advanced areas of the Western world . . . society has banished death . . . Everything in town[s] goes on as if nobody died any more' (Hour, p.

560).

From tame to wild death Initially in the West, claims Aries, death was 'tamed' - by which he means accepted as a familiar part of the order of nature. There was a harmony between the living and the dead. Whether regarded as an extension of sleep, or with confidence in an afterlife, death was met with neither fear nor despair but an attitude halfway between passive resignation and mystical trust {Western Attitudes, pp. 2 8 , 1 0 3 ) . Subsequently death became increasingly difficult. Initially this corresponded to a greater emphasis on individuality and on personal, as distinct from collective, destiny. In the fourteenth century macabre iconography, showing for instance the partly decomposed corpse, 'betrayed the bitter feeling of failure, mingled with mortality: a passion for

being, an anxiety at not sufficiently

Huizinga in The Waning of the Middle

being' (p. 1 0 5 ) . Whereas Ages

(1924)

had tended to

interpret this obsession with death, decay and transience as evidence for cultural decadence and enfeeblement, Aries sees it rather as a life-affirming resentment of death; if there is an obsession with death it is not because it is being desired or surrendered to, but just the 120

T H E DENIAL OF D E A T H ?

opposite. It is in the eighteenth century, during the so-called Enlightenment, that death comes to be denied; an ostensibly rational attitude to the subject is then i n fact motivated by avoidance. For example, early health reformers wanted graveyards removed from city centres, and this is seen to reflect a 'removal' of death from the realm of the living. In the modern period, death becomes even more traumatic; it is no longer familiar or tamed: it has become w i l d

(Western

Attitudes,

p. 1 4 ) . M o d e r n man cannot come to terms with the fact that he is going to die. Death, says Aries, is also regarded as shameful and forbidden. In part because of such repression, 'the mixture of eroticism and death so sought after from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century reappears in our sadistic literature and i n violent death i n our daily life' (pp. 8 5 , 9 2 - 3 ) . Between the eighteenth century and the present this association of sex and death did not disappear so much as become sublimated; death was no longer desirable, but rather 'admirable i n its beauty' (p. 5 8 ) . T h o u g h richly descriptive and documented, Aries's thesis is questionable i n several respects - not least its underlying argument to the effect that i n the West we have moved from a healthy relationship to death to a pathological one. A s Joachim Whaley remarks, Aries's whole w o r k is based on the belief that man's relationship to nature and death has become increasingly unhealthy and distorted as a result of progress, with the t w o worst periods i n this respect being the eighteenth and twentieth centuries (p. 5 ) . T h e problems with Aries's w o r k are accentuated by other writers w h o , in support of the denial-ofdeath argument, reproduce it i n an abridged and reductive f o r m , like Z y g m u n t Bauman in Mortality,

Immortality and Other Life Strategies.

Ariès had rightly described different attitudes to death as characteristic of different epochs, yet also continuous between them. By contrast, Bauman tends to ' f i x ' these attitudes to epochs in a way which misdescribes both. Thus he asserts that i n something called the 'premodern era' there was a common assumption about death which remained 'unchallenged until the dawn of the Age of Reason' and w h i c h entailed a 'resigned yet peaceful cohabitation with " t a m e " death' (pp.

94, 96-7).

T h e w o r l d was characterized by a monotony

of being, itself experienced as normality. Further, ' M o n o t o n y made 121

D E A T H , D E S I R E A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N C U L T U R E

existence un-problematic, hence non-visible' (pp. 9 7 , 9 4 ) . Death was so common that 'everyone had ample opportunity to get used to its presence . . . one had no reason to be puzzled or unduly excited when death, for the umpteenth time, struck in one's close vicinity'. In short, D e a t h w a s ' t a m e ' b e c a u s e i t w a s n o t a c h a l l e n g e i n t h e s a m e sense i n w h i c h a l l o t h e r e l e m e n t s o f the l i f e - p r o c e s s w e r e n o t c h a l l e n g e s i n a w o r l d i n w h i c h i d e n t i t i e s w e r e g i v e n , e v e r y t h i n g w a s s t u c k i n its p l a c e i n t h e g r e a t c h a i n o f being a n d things r a n their course by themselves,

(p. 97)

Bauman's periodization is so overgeneralized and vague that it is unclear when the pre-modern, chain-of-being, everything-stuck-in-itsplace existence is supposed to have ended. 1 doubt that it corresponds 1

to any period. Moreover, such generalizations have been challenged by social historians who rightly insist that class and wealth made a difference to how death was experienced: some people starved to death, others did not; in times of plague the rich could leave the cities, others could not; and so on. Those who discern in modern culture a denial of death often also claim that the different attitude of earlier cultures was also a more healthy one. Be it through the burying of the dead in the centre of the community rather than at the periphery, or the keeping of the dead alive imaginatively, these earlier cultures are said to have more fully integrated death into life and to have been the better adjusted for it. One of the most reiterated claims is that if only we could properly mourn the dead we w o u l d come to terms with their loss, and we might even grow and develop as a result of it. In other words, by dealing sensibly with death we become stronger, perhaps even better, people. In this vein M i c h a e l Bronski tells us that the first step to coming to terms with death in the context of A I D S is to bring it out into the open, to talk about it and treat it as a material not a moral reality: T h e r e is n o i n h e r e n t m y s t e r y s u r r o u n d i n g s e x a n d d e a t h - t h o s e m y t h s a r e p u r e l y s o c i a l i n v e n t i o n s t o c o n t r o l b e h a v i o u r a n d m a k e us c o n f o r m t o c e r t a i n mores and standards. W e as g a y p e o p l e m u s t l e a r n t o f a c e t h e r e a l i t y o f d e a t h w i t h t h e s a m e energy a n d i m a g i n a t i o n w e have p u t i n t o c l a i m i n g a n d enjoying o u r sexual

122

T H E DENIAL OF D E A T H ?

desires and experiences. If we do not deal with death it will continue to cause us more stress, more hurt and more self-doubt, (pp.

227-8)

T h i s hope for a healthy attitude to death and loss is on occasions (as here) so trite it could itself be said to be blatantly symptomatic of the denial of death, being apparently incapable of acknowledging on the personal level just how devastating and unendurable death is or can be for those w h o survive, and on the more general level h o w profoundly formative the trauma of death has been i n the formation of Western culture. It may be, at least for some, that there is no coming to terms with the loss of death. There is only an adjustment, and always at a price: we remain damaged. That, at least, is the implication of writers from Ecclesiastes to Freud — and also of an utterly different k i n d of text, like this anonymous i n memoriam and the countless others it speaks for: In loving memory of my dear friend 'Dave', who took his life in May 1938 aged 19 years. We kissed in the park and they caught us. 11 got nine months - He died. I He used to say 'We'll make it together'. It's been a long time Dave! I And a lonely journey. /1 wish I could say 'We'll meet again' / But 1 have no faith - only memories. - Harry. May I pay tribute to all those who suffered and died with us during the dark years. (Gay News 9 5 ; cited by Jeffrey Weeks as epigraph to Chapter 11 of Coming Out)

Death as social control, and the omniscient analyst Jean Baudrillard presents the argument for the existence of a denial of death in its most extreme form. For h i m , this denial is not only deeply symptomatic of contemporary reality, but represents an insidious and pervasive f o r m of ideological control. H i s account depends heavily upon a familiar critique of the Enlightenment's intellectual, cultural and political legacy. This critique has become influential i n recent cultural theory, though Baudrillard's version of it is characteristically uncompromising and sweeping, and more reductive than most. The main claim is that Enlightenment rationality is an instrument not of freedom and democratic empowerment but, on the contrary, of repression and violence. Likewise with the Enlightenment's secular 123

D E A T H , D E S I R E A N D LOSS IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

emphasis upon a common humanity; for Baudrillard this resulted in what he calls 'the cancer of the H u m a n ' - far from being an inclusive category of emancipation, the idea of a universal humanity made possible the demonizing of difference and the repressive privileging of the normal: the 'Human' is from the outset the institution of its structural double, the 'Inhuman'. This is all it is: the progress of Humanity and Culture are simply the chain of discriminations with which to brand 'Others' with inhumanity, and therefore with nullity, (p. 125) Baudrillard acknowledges here the influence of M i c h e l Foucault, but goes on to identify something more fundamental and determining than anything identified by Foucault: at the very core of the 'rationality' of our culture, however, is an exclusion that precedes every other, more radical than the exclusion of madmen, children or inferior races, an exclusion preceding all these and serving as their model: the exclusion of the dead and of death, (p. 126) So total is this exclusion that, 'today, it is not normal to be dead, and this is new. T o be dead is an unthinkable anomaly; nothing else is as offensive as this. Death is a delinquency, and an incurable deviancy' (p. 1 2 6 ) . H e insists that the attempt to abolish death (especially through capitalist accumulation), to separate it from life, leads only to a culture permeated by death - 'quite simply, ours is a culture of death' (p. 1 2 7 ) . Moreover, it is the repression of death which facilitates 'the repressive socialization of life'; all existing agencies of repression and control take root in the disastrous separation of death from life (p. 1 3 0 ) . A n d , as if that were not enough, our very concept of reality has its origin in the same separation or disjunction (pp.

130-33).

M o d e r n culture

is contrasted with that of the primitive and the savage, in w h i c h , allegedly, life and death were not separated; also with that of the M i d d l e Ages, where, allegedly, there was still a collectivism 'folkloric and joyous' conception of death. This and many other aspects of the argument are questionable, but perhaps the main objection to Baudrillard's case is his view of culture as a macro-conspiracy conducted by an insidious ideological prime-mover whose agency is always invisibly at work (rather like G o d ) . Thus (from just one page), the 124

T H E D E N I A L OF D E A T H ?

political economy supposedly 'intends' to eliminate death through accumulation; and 'our whole culture is just one huge effort to dissociate life and death' (p. 1 4 7 ; my emphases). What those like Baudrillard find interesting about death is not the old conception of it as a pre-cultural constant which diminishes the significance of all cultural achievement, but, on the contrary, its function as a culturally relative - which is to say culturally formative — construct. A n d , if cultural relativism is on the one hand about relinquishing the comfort of the absolute, for those like Baudrillard it is also about the new strategies of intellectual mastery made possible by the very disappearance of the absolute. Such modern accounts of how death is allegedly denied, of h o w death is the supreme ideological fix, entail a new intensity and complexity of interpretation and decipherment, a k i n d of hermeneutics of death. T o reinterpret death as a deep effect of ideology, even to the extent of regarding it as the most fundamental ideological adhesive of modern political repression and social control, is simultaneously to denounce it as in some sense a deception or an illusion, and to bring it within the domain of knowledge and analysis as never before. Death, for so long regarded as the ultimate reality - that w h i c h disempowers the human and obliterates all human

achievement,

including the achievements of knowledge — n o w becomes the object of a hugely empowering knowledge. Like omniscient seers, intellectuals like Baudrillard and Bauman relentlessly anatomize and diagnose the modern (or post-modern) human condition in relation to an ideology of death which becomes the key with which to unlock the secret workings of Western culture in all its insidiousness. Baudrillard in particular applies his theory relentlessly, steamrollering across the cultural significance of the quotidian and the contingent. H i s is an imperialist, omniscient analytic, a perpetual act of reductive generalization, a self-empowering intellectual performance w h i c h proceeds without qualification and without any sense that something might be mysterious or inexplicable. A s such it constitutes a k i n d of interpretative, theoretical violence, an extreme but still representative instance of how the relentless anatomizing and diagnosis of death in the modern w o r l d has become a struggle for empowerment through masterful i.e. reductive - critique. 125

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

Occasionally one wonders if the advocates of the denial-of-death argument are not themselves in denial. They speak about death endlessly yet indirectly, analysing not death so much as our culture's attitude towards it. T o that extent it is not the truth of death but the truth of our culture that they seek. But, even as they make death signify in this indirect way, it is still death that is compelling them to speak. A n d those like Baudrillard and Bauman speak urgently, performing intellectually a desperate mimicry of the omniscience which death denies. One senses that the entire modern enterprise of relativizing death, of understanding it culturally and socially, may be an attempt to disavow it in the very act of analysing and demystifying it. Ironically then, for all its rejection of the Enlightenment's arrogant belief in the power of rationality, this analysis of death remains indebted to a fundamental Enlightenment aspiration to mastery through knowledge. N o t h i n g could be more 'Enlightenment', in the pejorative sense that Baudrillard describes, than his o w n almost megalomaniac wish to penetrate the truth of death, and the masterful controlling intellectual subject which that attempt presupposes. A n d this may be true to an extent for all of us more or less involved in the anthropological or quasi-anthropological accounts of death which assume that, by looking at how a culture handles death, we disclose things about a culture which it does not k n o w about itself. So what has been said of sex in the nineteenth century may also be true of death in the twentieth: it has not been repressed so much as resignified in new, complex and productive ways which then legitimate a neverending analysis of it. It is questionable whether the denial of death has ever really figured in our culture in the way that Baudrillard and Bauman suggest. O f course, the ways of dealing with and speaking about death have changed hugely, and have in some respects involved something like denial. But in philosophical and literary terms there has never been a denial of death. Moreover, however understood, the pre-modern 2

period can hardly be said to have been characterized by the 'healthy' attitude that advocates of the denial argument often claim, imply or assume. In fact it could be said that we can begin to understand the vital role of death in Western culture only when we accept death as profoundly, compellingly and irreducibly traumatic. 126

T H E D E N I A L OF D E A T H ?

In some more recent cultural theory there has occurred another, rather different, relativizing of death. O n the one hand death is (again) said to be a cultural construct, 'the most obvious thing about [which] is that it is always only represented'. O n the other hand, death is 'a signifier w i t h an incessantly receding, ungraspable signified, always pointing to other signifiers, other means of representing what is finally just absent'. This makes death the unrepresentable, always absent excess which endlessly destabilizes culture: it s t a n d s as a c h a l l e n g e t o a l l o u r s y s t e m s o f m e a n i n g , o r d e r , a n d c i v i l i z a t i o n . Any

governance,

given cultural construct - f r o m religion and poetry to

p s y c h o a n a l y s i s a n d m e d i c a l t e c h n o l o g y - m a y be c o n s t r u e d as a r e s p o n s e t o the d i s o r d e r i n g force o f death. ( G o o d w i n a n d B r o n f e n , p. 4)

3

T h i s is a move characteristic of contemporary theory: what philosophers and others used to call 'the real' is dissolved into representation, but w i t h a strong desire not only for something to remain, and to function as the real once d i d , but to invest it with an 'excess' which forever destabilizes. So, in a for ever inaccessible space beyond representation, we fantasize an excess which forever disrupts representation. Except that even to speak of a beyond is too metaphysical, so we imagine an outside which is always already inside. In short, contemporary theory evades the classic philosophical problems of ontology and epistemology, and this is because we do not have the conviction of our residual desire for the pre-cultural real; yet we desire it nevertheless, reconstruing it even as we dissolve it. Death, of course, disallows the evasion: J u s t i n case y o u t h o u g h t there w a s n o d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n a n d r e a l i t y , t h e r e is d e a t h . J u s t i n c a s e y o u t h o u g h t representation

of experience

melted

into one

representation

experience

another,

death

and

provides

s t r u c t u r a l p r i n c i p l e s e p a r a t i n g t h e t w o . See t h e d i f f e r e n c e , d e a t h a s k s ,

the a see

the w a y l a n g u a g e a n d v i s i o n differ f r o m the a c t u a l , the i r r e v o c a b l e , the real? ( B a r r e c a , ' W r i t i n g as V o o d o o ' , p .

174)

127

9 Degeneration and Dissidence

It is still sometimes assumed that nineteenth-century

degeneration

theories were little more than pseudo-scientific ranting. They were always, and still remain, much more than that; as W i l l i a m Greenslade has indicated, there is a line of descent from the original degeneration theorists through to the Holocaust of the 1 9 4 0 s . Nineteenth-century theories of racial and social degeneration indicate h o w , as older metaphysics of death and mutability decline i n relation to various developments of the Enlightenment, including confidence in progress and the possibility of social change, they vacate a cultural and psychic space which is then flooded by new and intense fears of social death. While such fears are a direct corollary of social progress, they also incorporate aspects of the older metaphysic which they displace. M a x Nordau's Degeneration

(1892)

was not only one of the most

popular of all texts on the subject, but one of the most popular of all texts in Europe i n the

1890s.

A n English translation was published i n

1 8 9 5 , just a few months before the Wilde trials, going through seven editions in six months (Greenslade, pp. 2 5 5 , 1 2 0 ) . Degeneration became a theory sufficiently obsessive and persecutory to be able to explain every kind of evil, from individual illness, through national economic decline, to the decay of an empire, and able to demonize any group or individual that was perceived as threatening or just different. Metaphors of disease and plague have always come naturally to believers in degeneration - and not surprisingly, since to them degeneration threatens contagion, the loss of immunity and, ultimately, the threat of social death and species extinction.

128

D E G E N E R A T I O N A N D DISSIDENCE

There is much about degeneration theory which is specific to the crises and ways of thinking of the late nineteenth century. But it was also a manifestation of Western culture's more enduring fears of disintegration and decline — fears whose most significant precursors included the early modern preoccupation with cosmic decay (above, Chapter 5). In fact degeneration theory has connections with the same metaphysics which animated the cosmic-decay debate. But, whereas in the early modern period social decline was attributed to a more fundamental cosmic decline, now it is rooted in biology. In a sense, the cosmic has become collapsed into the biological, in a way which intensifies anxiety because decline is now radically interior. F o l l o w i n g the pioneering degeneracy theorist Benedict M o r e l , N o r dau defined degeneration as a m o r b i d , genetically transmissible deviation from an original type or normal f o r m . A l l versions of degeneracy originated in a 'bio-chemical and bio-mechanical derangement of the nerve-cell' (pp. 1 6 , 2 5 4 ) , but major causes of degeneration also came f r o m outside the organism. M o d e r n environmental changes were especially dangerous.

Cesare

Lombroso argued that

modernity

induced narcotic abuse or nervous illness, which in turn induced debility, which in turn was transmitted through the father's seed. H e warned that even otherwise sober parents who at the moment of conception are temporarily drunk beget children who are epileptic, paralytic, idiotic or insane: 'thus a single embrace, given in a moment of drunkenness, may be fatal to an entire generation' (cited from Hurley, p. 6 7 ) . This fear was powerful for those like Lombroso and M o r e l : once degeneration had started, its effects could accelerate and magnify in each generation, quickly producing insanity and even extinction. Whereas biological and social evolution had proceeded slowly across millennia, degeneration could disintegrate the highest evolved forms in an instant. The growing concern that evolution might be halted or even reversed was popularly expressed by H . G . Wells. A n essay ' O n E x t i n c t i o n ' shows very clearly how an older melancholy preoccupation with mutability could be adapted to an evolutionary perspective. Wells here entertains the possibility of the extinction of the human race:

129

D E A T H , D E S I R E A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N C U L T U R E L i f e , t h a t h a s s c h e m e d a n d s t r u g g l e d a n d c o m m i t t e d i t s e l f , the l i f e t h a t h a s p l a y e d a n d l o s t , c o m e s at l a s t t o the p i t i l e s s j u d g e m e n t o f t i m e , a n d is s l o w l y a n d r e m o r s e l e s s l y a n n i h i l a t e d , (p.

169)

Wells meditates on the creatures of prehistory, now extinct. A l l that is left of them is the geological traces, in relation to which we speculate uncertainly about what they actually looked like. A t issue here is less the extinction of individuals than that of whole species which have left nothing behind - 'no mark, and no tradition . . . N o t h i n g living has any part of them . .

Fossil fragments are the

epitome of the obscure trace, hinting 'merely at shadowy dead sub-kingdoms, of which the form eludes'. They point to that 'unfathomable

darkness

. . . saying only one thing clearly, the w o r d

" e x t i n c t i o n " ' (p. 1 7 0 ) . There is no reassurance in existing species domination, since in the case of every predominant species the earth has ever seen 'the hour of its complete ascendancy has been the eve of its entire overthrow' (p. 1 4 9 ) . This decline might be due to external causes; for instance, an existing creature, currently in unsuspected obscurity, might develop new capacities which could sweep man away into the darkness from which his universe arose (p. 1 6 8 ) . Alternatively or additionally, decline might be due to an inner process - degeneration, or 'degradation' as Wells also calls it - whereby life-forms begin to devolve rather than evolve. Certainly, the idea that life proceeds through a gradual, progressive organic evolution - 'that inevitable tendency to higher and better things' - is now regarded as a myth. The truth is rather that living species have 'varied along divergent lines from intermediate forms, and . . . not necessarily in an upward direction'. Further, 'rapid progress has often been followed by rapid extinction or degeneration' (pp.

149,159,167).

This idea of evolutionary degeneration, an extreme

catastrophic unbinding of civilization, w o u l d be powerfully evoked by W . B. Yeats in 'The Second C o m i n g '

(1921):

T u r n i n g a n d t u r n i n g i n the w i d e n i n g gyre T h e f a l c o n c a n n o t hear the f a l c o n e r ; T h i n g s f a l l a p a r t ; the c e n t r e c a n n o t h o l d ; M e r e a n a r c h y is l o o s e d u p o n t h e w o r l d ,

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The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction while the worst Are full of a passionate intensity.

Modernity, decadence and atavism N o r d a u at least believed that degeneration could be contained. But, as we'll see, he too was haunted by a fear of degeneration as endemic, chronic and irreversible. H e also believed that a major cause of degeneracy was the accelerating pace of modern life and the growth of urban centres — 'the excessive organic wear and tear suffered by the nations through the immense demands of their activity, and through the rank growth of large towns' (p. 4 3 ) . H e attributed to degeneration exactly the character of disease and epidemic: degenerate potentialities, like infectious viruses, are always present i n the body (individual and social), but were hitherto only manifested sporadically. They begin to spread alarmingly when 'circumstances arise intensely favourable for their rapid increase'. A n d that time had come with modernity: ' W e stand n o w i n the midst of a severe mental epidemic; of a sort of black death of degeneration' (p. 5 3 7 ) . Degenerates are characterized by numerous kinds of mental and physical ills. N o r d a u ' s particular concern is with degeneracy manifested as decadence i n artistic culture, deriving from (among many other things) egomania, and 'a madly inordinate eroticism' (p. 1 2 9 ) . In degenerates, says N o r d a u , 'we detect the same ultimate elements, viz., a brain incapable of normal w o r k i n g , thence feebleness of w i l l , inattention, predominance of emotion, lack of knowledge, absence of sympathy or interest in the w o r l d and humanity, atrophy of the notion of duty and morality' (p. 5 3 6 ) . N o r d a u lists a bewildering array of pathologies, perversions and aberrations. H e admits that, from a clinical point of view, they are 'somewhat unlike each other', but insists nevertheless that they are only 'different manifestations of a single and unique fundamental condition, to w i t , exhaustion' (p. 5 3 6 ) . A n d chronic fatigue is indeed the important, underlying condition

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that preoccupies N o r d a u - a fatigue which is dangerous not just because it renders the individual ineffectual or apathetic. If that were all, degeneration would be a containable problem. The deeper danger of what N o r d a u calls this 'vast fatigue' is that it renders both the degenerate and, much more worryingly, society itself terribly susceptible to disintegration. Sexual perversion became, for N o r d a u , increasingly significant in the aetiology of degeneracy, and again there is the same concern with enervation and enfeeblement: insofar as it contributes to pornography and the incitement to lasciviousness, sexual excess destroys the bodily and mental health of individuals and ruins society as a whole by rendering it 'too w o r n out and flaccid to perform great tasks' (p. 5 5 7 ) . Likewise, urbanization diminishes the 'vital powers' of the individual (P.

35).

Another characteristic of degeneration is atavism: the re-emergence of a primitive past within the civilized present. Degenerates, exhausted and unable to maintain their place in the evolutionary ascent, regress to the m o s t f o r g o t t e n , f a r - a w a y past . . . they c o m p o s e m u s i c l i k e that o f the y e l l o w natives o f E a s t A s i a . T h e y c o n f o u n d a l l the arts, a n d lead t h e m b a c k to the p r i m i t i v e f o r m s they h a d

before evolution differentiated them.

Every

o n e o f t h e i r q u a l i t i e s is a t a v i s t i c , a n d w e k n o w , m o r e o v e r , t h a t a t a v i s m is o n e o f t h e m o s t c o n s t a n t m a r k s o f d e g e n e r a c y , (p. 555; m y

emphasis)

The claim is that there are identifiable diseases in the modern w o r l d which are a direct result of a regressive and atavistic 'throw-back' caused in part by harmful environmental factors; hence the reemergence of earlier and inferior forms of life within the present. But, even as N o r d a u tirelessly identifies these tendencies, we discern an underlying fear that degeneration is not just a hiccup in evolution, but somehow its logic and destiny. It is as if there is a teleological, 'unconscious' drive in evolution which leads to decline, exhaustion, disintegration and even self-destruction: social death. Instinct and the unconscious, far from being the forces which might guarantee evolutionary progress, are prime carriers of degeneracy. Degeneration theory was in certain respects a reaction to the perception of something like the death drive understood as an internal unbinding of life's highest forms: as an inner, evolutionary process of 132

DEGENERATION A N D DISSIDENCE

unbinding which is at w o r k instinctually as the drive to disintegrate and self-destruct. That is why, for N o r d a u , survival i n the face of degeneration requires a vigilant repression of man's 'insensate and self-destructive appetites'. Overt, conscious repression is a necessary condition of progress; survival requires nothing less than 'the expansion of consciousness and the contraction of the unconscious; the strengthening of w i l l and weakening of impulsions; the increase of self-responsibility and the repression of reckless egoism' (p.

554).

1

N o r d a u had nothing to do with psychoanalysis, yet there are parts of Degeneration

which anticipate Freud's theory of the death drive -

especially the idea that civilization was only ever a detour on the way to death (below, Chapter 1 4 ) . N o r d a u obsessively equates civilization with integration and unity — or, more exactly, with the integration

of the differentiated. A s

life-forms evolve they become increasingly differentiated but also increasingly dependent upon harmonious integration with each other. So this unity is not just a natural reflection of man's nature, nor even of his metaphysical essence or telos. Even in nature itself the unity of the higher forms of life is an achieved, hierarchical and disciplined order. T h e higher the form of life, the more it involves a complex association of cells and cell systems, each with its o w n functions and wants, and increasingly vulnerable to internal anarchy: i n o r d e r that the collective o r g a n i s m m a y be able t o p e r f o r m its task, its c o n s t i t u e n t p a r t s a r e b o u n d t o s u b m i t t o a severe h i e r a r c h i c a l o r d e r . A n a r c h y i n i t s i n t e r i o r i s a d i s e a s e , a n d l e a d s r a p i d l y t o d e a t h , ( p . 409)

A n d human consciousness, the highest of all forms of life, is the most 'highly differentiated and " h i e r a r c h i z e d " ' of all (p. 2 4 7 ) . F o l l o w i n g Kant, N o r d a u affirms that 'to think . . . is to unite and b i n d ' (p. 2 6 9 ) . A n d this is one reason why consciousness is always susceptible to being undermined by instinct and the unconscious, and thereby precipitated into disorder and disintegration. T h e more sophisticated the integration, the more vulnerable it is to being undone. W e might add that, the more evolved a culture regards itself as being, the more it becomes, or at least fears, its o w n internal dissolution. N o r d a u quotes Paul Bourget, w h o , in Essais de psychologie contemporaine,

described deca-

dence as the process whereby the separate units or cells — of, for 133

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instance, language or an organism - break up into anarchic independence: A society ought to be assimilated to an organism. As an organism, in fact, it resolves itself into a federation of lesser organisms, which again resolve themselves into a federation of cells. In order that the whole organism should function with energy, it is necessary that the component organisms should function with energy, but with a subordinate energy. If the energy of the cells becomes independent, the organisms composing the total organism cease likewise to subordinate their energy to the total energy, and the anarchy which takes place constitutes the decadence of the whole. (Bourget, cited by Nordau, p. 301; cf. Nalbantian, p. 12) In this respect too, believers in degeneration share something with psychoanalysis. N o r d a u clearly shared Freud's sense of social and psychic organization as precarious and dependent upon a sustained effort which can never be guaranteed, partly because it is threatened by the return of what is repressed, partly (and relatedly) because it is something for which we never have enough energy - not least because the repressions required by civilization consume so much. A n d when the effort of maintaining civilization is too great, we are threatened with psychic and cultural collapse. O n l y a finite quantity of energy is available, and it is never ever quite enough. In both Nordau's positivist biology and Freudian psychoanalysis there is the same sense of energy as a scarce resource, and of social and psychic organization becoming vulnerable when energy falters or fails. For N o r d a u , even the normal person w i l l at some time succumb to fatigue and fall into that state which, for the degenerate, is chronic (p.

2.83).

Life is a fragile energy,

susceptible from the start to the exhaustion which is its destiny. Again, to discern here pre-echoes of Freud's death drive is hardly fanciful, given Nordau's o w n definition of life as 'a definite measure of force, which makes it possible for us to resist for a given time the influence upon us of Nature's forces of dissolution'. N o r d a u defends his o w n scientific world-view against all others because it helps us fend off death for that bit longer, but always in the knowledge that it cannot overcome it (pp. 1 5 0 , 1 0 ) . Nature is the ultimate force of dissolution, and about that we can do nothing. But the degenerates have, as it were, internalized and 134

D E G E N E R A T I O N A N D DISSIDENCE

perversely intensify this characteristic of nature, and about them we can do a lot. They, even more than nature, have an endless capacity for destruction, anarchy and social ruin. It is in N o r d a u ' s tireless rage against what he supposes to be the specific maladies of degenerates that his theory is most clearly an expression of, and an attempt to contain, fears about regression, exhaustion and disintegration. Thus decadent poets pursue linguistic disconnection - itself symptomatic of a 'disorder and permanent chaos' which is already deeply rooted in their sensibilities and their brains. Baudelaire, says N o r d a u , is drawn to 'death and corruption', while composers like Wagner express 'anarchism, a craving for revolt and contradiction'. Degenerates generally possess a 'mania for destruction'; Ibsen, for example, is a 'theoretic criminal' - i.e. one w h o translates his destructive impulses into drama rather than actual criminality. H e is also a sexual masochist (pp.

270—71, 290, 264, 399, 413).

'Connecting links abound': degeneration and perversion The agency of the most pernicious and rapid mode of inner disintegration is perversion. In fact it is perversion which drives the degenerate organism to its death: ' i n such cases the [separate] organs are suffering from perversions; they exact satisfactions, not only pernicious in their remote consequences to the whole organism, but immediately so to the organs themselves'. Thus sexual perversions run 'directly contrary to the purpose of the instinct, i.e., the preservation of the species' (Nordau, pp. 4 1 1 , 2 6 0 ) . Here and elsewhere in N o r d a u , sexual perversion is not yet the definitive perversion it w o u l d subsequently become, but is clearly anticipating it. Perversion is pernicious because it is paradoxically made possible by the evolutionary process of organization which morality has undergone: Morality organized

. . . has become, i n the course o f thousands of generations, a n instinct. F o r this reason, like a l l other o r g a n i z e d

i n s t i n c t s , i t is

e x p o s e d t o ' p e r v e r s i o n ' , t o a b e r r a t i o n . T h e effect o f t h i s is t h a t t h e o r g a n ,

135

D E A T H , D E S I R E A N D LOSS IN W E S T E R N C U L T U R E o r the w h o l e o r g a n i s m , w o r k s i n o p p o s i t i o n to its n o r m a l task a n d its n a t u r a l l a w s , a n d c a n n o t w o r k o t h e r w i s e , (p. 259)

Here too is the reason why it is perversion which also focuses most acutely the fundamental tension between, on the one hand, wanting to identify degeneration as manageable and containable, and, on the other, seeing it as chronic, potentially catastrophic and perhaps irreversible. Whereas the manageable view sees i n degeneracy something like a natural internal decline, or a containable external threat, the view of it as chronic identifies degeneracy as irrupting from within what should be most removed from it - e.g. progress - and with an intensity which threatens nothing less than social death. Daniel Pick, i n a persuasive account of European degeneration theory, and with due regard to his o w n caution against underestimating the diverse and incompatible forms which it took, finds a repeated tension between these two views. T o regard degeneration as manageable meant that its agents could be effectively isolated through, for example, segregation, transportation or castration. T o regard it as chronic meant that it was uncontrollably everywhere, a problem of and for whole populations. Thus, says Pick, the shared p r o b l e m a t i c o f degeneration summarized

as f o l l o w s :

across the p e r i o d c o u l d perhaps be

was degeneration

separable f r o m the history o f

p r o g r e s s (to b e c o d e d as ' r e g r e s s i o n ' , ' a t a v i s m ' , o r ' p r i m i t i v i s m ' ) , o r d i d i t reveal that the city, progress, c i v i l i z a t i o n a n d m o d e r n i t y were p a r a d o x i c a l l y , t h e v e r y a g e n t s o f d e c l i n e ? (p. 106)

If the manageable view sees degeneration as a problem of containing the 'other', the chronic view sees it as a problem of the 'other' having infiltrated and even become the 'same': civilization is threatened from without, but also, and even more acutely, from within. Hence the fears which Pick elucidates - 'fears of inundation, the subject overwhelmed at every level of mind and body by internal disorder and external attack' (p.

44;

cf. pp. 4 3 , 2 3 5 - 6 ) . The old problematic returns

in a socio-biological/pathological form: death not as the antithesis of life, but as its inner dynamic. Hence the tendency for degeneracy to shift disconcertingly from being a manageable problem of the individual (for example the cretin and the criminal) to a chronic one of

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modern society as a (disintegrating) whole; from individual pathology to a sense of social death (p. 4 ) . It was the chronic view w h i c h incited the imagination and which became increasingly obsessed with the pervert. M a p p e d socially and psychically, the pervert was both outside and inside; mapped teleologically (in relation to the past, present and future of civilization), just everywhere. A n d increasingly that perversion was sexual. Asserting that the real source of Nietzsche's philosophy was his sadism, N o r d a u further declares that degenerate art and philosophy is above all rooted i n the 'sexual psychopathology' of those who produce it and w h o consume it: ' A l l persons of unbalanced minds . . . have the keenest scent for perversions of a sexual k i n d . ' A n d artistic works of a sexually psychopathic nature excite i n abnormal subjects the corresponding perversion. This is because aesthetic and sexual feelings are 'contiguous . . . even coincident' (pp.

451-2;

cf. p.

167).

The sexual pervert was also identified with the primitive, and vice versa. Thus the sexuality of primitives was represented as quintessent i a l ^ excessive, flooding over indiscriminately into the perverse, while, as George Mosse indicates in his study of nationalism and sexuality, the decadent sexual pervert was said to be marked by an excess of libido w h i c h linked h i m or her with the primitive. The seductiveness 2

of this association between the perverse and the primitive is again something w h i c h degenerationists shared w i t h Freud: I a m b e g i n n i n g t o g r a s p a n i d e a : i t is as t h o u g h i n t h e p e r v e r s i o n s , o f w h i c h hysteria is t h e negative, w e have before us a r e m n a n t o f a p r i m e v a l

sexual

c u l t , w h i c h o n c e w a s - p e r h a p s s t i l l is - a r e l i g i o n i n t h e S e m i t i c E a s t ( M o l o c h , A s t a r t e ) . I m a g i n e , I o b t a i n e d a scene a b o u t t h e c i r c u m c i s i o n o f a g i r l . T h e c u t t i n g o f f o f a p i e c e o f t h e l a b i u m m i n o r ( w h i c h is e v e n s h o r t e r

today),

s u c k i n g u p t h e b l o o d , after w h i c h t h e c h i l d w a s g i v e n a piece o f the s k i n t o eat. . . Perverse

actions,

moreover,

are always

the same -

meaningful a n d

fashioned a c c o r d i n g to some pattern that someday w i l l be u n d e r s t o o d . I d r e a m , therefore, o f a p r i m e v a l d e v i l r e l i g i o n w i t h rites that a r e c a r r i e d o n secretly . . . C o n n e c t i n g l i n k s a b o u n d . (Freud t o Fliess, 24 J a n u a r y

1897,

i n Complete Letters, p . 2 2 7 ; see a l s o P i c k , p . 228)

Freud eventually rejected degeneracy as an explanation of perversion, 137

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and with important consequences.

3

But Freud's idea of normality as

a sequential, evolutionary development, and of perversion as a fixation at, or regression to, an earlier stage, nevertheless warrants comparison with the basic principle of degeneracy - if only to indicate how otherwise divergent theories retain revealing connections, not so much through direct influence, but through shared cultural contexts and interconnecting intellectual histories. Thus M a x N o r d a u : 'The disease of degeneracy consists precisely in the fact that the degenerate organism has not the power to mount to the height of evolution already attained by the species, but stops on the way at an earlier or later point' (p. 5 5 6 ) . Like psychoanalysis, though very differently, degeneration theory might challenge D a r w i n i s m , but it often did so in evolutionary terms.

4

This 'regressive' aspect of degeneration was a factor in the way in which degeneration theorists connected sexual perversion with race.

5

Richard Plant, identifying the way anti-Semitism associated Jews with sexual perversion, cites the following passage from Hitler's official newspaper in August 1 9 3 0 : A m o n g t h e m a n y e v i l i n s t i n c t s t h a t c h a r a c t e r i z e t h e J e w i s h r a c e , o n e t h a t is especially p e r n i c i o u s has to d o w i t h s e x u a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s . T h e J e w s are forever t r y i n g to p r o p a g a n d i z e sexual relations between siblings, m e n a n d a n i m a l s , a n d m e n a n d men. W e N a t i o n a l Socialists w i l l soon u n m a s k a n d

condemn

t h e m b y l a w . T h e s e e f f o r t s are n o t h i n g b u t v u l g a r , p e r v e r t e d c r i m e s a n d w e w i l l p u n i s h t h e m b y b a n i s h m e n t o r h a n g i n g , (p. 49)

M i c h e l Foucault regards 'the medicine of perversions and the programmes of eugenics' as the two great innovations in the technology of sex in the second half of the nineteenth century, with the theory of 'degenerescence' making it possible for them to refer across to one another. This theory explained h o w a heredity that was burdened w i t h various maladies . . . ended by p r o d u c i n g a sexual pervert (look i n t o the genealogy o f a n e x h i b i t i o n i s t or a homosexual: y o u w i l l find a hemiplegic ancestor, a phthistic parent, or a n u n c l e a f f l i c t e d w i t h s e n i l e d e m e n t i a ) ; b u t it w e n t o n t o e x p l a i n h o w s e x u a l p e r v e r s i o n resulted i n the d e p l e t i o n o f one's line o f descent i n the c h i l d r e n , the s t e r i l i t y o f f u t u r e g e n e r a t i o n s .

138

a

rickets

T h e series c o m p o s e d

of

D E G E N E R A T I O N A N D DISSIDENCE

perversion-heredity-degenerescence formed the solid nucleus of the new technologies of sex. (History, I.118) Foucault's account stressed the way in which such theories gave scientific credibility to new forms of social control, specifically creating new types of deviant whose study and containment would legitimate new technologies of power. M o s t subsequent accounts of the history of sexuality follow him in this. However, such connections between sexual perversion and degeneration are only part of the story, and a relatively recent one at that. Degeneracy theory is also deeply indebted to older pre-sexological notions of perversion, and to understand the power of the theory in the late nineteenth century we must recognize its origins i n these earlier beliefs, especially the idea of the pervert as an agent of internal deviation. M o r e l defined degeneration as a deviation, and deviation is the essence of perversion, from Augustine and before, to Freud and beyond. What made perversion even more important was its becoming increasing sexualized as a concept, in sexology and (later) i n psychoanalysis. What this meant was that i n the late nineteenth century perversion was being transformed from a mainly theological to a mainly psychosexual category. This was indeed a momentous shift arguably the single most significant development in the creation of 'modern' sexuality. But the earlier theological category remained disturbingly active within the latter, and - strange as it may seem subversively so, not least with regard to the connection between perversion and death. The deviation which characterizes perversion is essentially a paradoxical one. W h y is the prima facie innocent activity of separating or departing from something felt to be such a threat to it? W h y does deviation become a subversion, corruption or contradiction of that which is departed from (which we w i l l call the normal)? W h y , for theology, was perversion the supreme evil —the antithesis of conversion - and, correspondingly, for the degenerationists, the cause of organic and social death? T h e answer lies partly in the fact that deviation originates from within that which it perverts. Literally so: to deviate from something presupposes an antecedent point of congruence with it, either as the identical or (more worrying) the indistinguishable.

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Typically, this means that perverse deviation discloses something within or about (in proximity to) the normal which the latter must disavow in order to remain itself - a split, a contradiction, a difference; this is one reason why perversion is regarded as dangerous. However, the original proximity (or identity) of the perverse with the normal also enables the normal to displace its o w n contradictions on to the perverse; proximity is a condition of displacement, which in turn marks the same or the similar as radically other. Mythologically and historically, politically and medically, perversion is a category which incurs the violence of this displacement. But it is also what carries the potentially subversive knowledge both of what is disavowed and of what is displaced. A n d it always has the potential to return along the very route of the deviation/displacement. A r m e d with that knowledge, and taking that route, it has the potential to effect the most disturbing of subversions.

6

One of our culture's founding narratives, the Fall, is rife with this perverse dynamic. It is pertinent to consider h o w , not least because those like Benedict M o r e l connected the theory of degeneration to his reading of Genesis, recasting the Fall narrative in pseudo-medical terms. In that narrative, evil (and thereby death) not only erupts f r o m within a divine order which should (in virtue of God's omnipotence) precisely have precluded it, but originates with those beings closest to G o d - Satan and then 'man'. These allegedly pervert their most divine attribute, free w i l l , becoming in the process the source of all evil and bringing death into the w o r l d . So original sin might more aptly be regarded as original perversity - the means whereby responsibility for e v i l is displaced v i a Satan on to man and then on to w o m a n . A t the same time evil remains so subversively implicated in divinity that a whole branch of theology (theodicy) has grown up to explain the fact. But never successfully, and the problem of evil and death has remained intrinsic to divinity: either G o d is omnipotent, in which case he created evil, or evil is not God's fault (i.e. it is independent of and opposed to him), which means he is not omnipotent. Returning to N o r d a u , it is interesting that he insists, or perhaps has to concede, that disease and health are much more closely connected than is usually imagined. The difference between them is not one of k i n d but one of quantity, in that they share the same 'vital activity'. 140

D E G E N E R A T I O N A N D DISSIDENCE

Sometimes this activity is accelerated, sometimes retarded, 'and when this deviation f r o m the rule is detrimental to the ends of the whole organism, we call it disease' (pp.

552-3).

In short, disease is not 'a

state differing essentially from that of health' (p. 5 5 5 ) . So, what w o u l d now count as a diseased state might once have been healthy. A return to what was, at the primitive stage of the organism's development, a perfectly appropriate and therefore healthy state of things is now a disease. There must be no going back. Given N o r d a u ' s ethical and political project, this is a compromising admission. W h a t separates the healthy f r o m the sick, the normal from the diseased, the natural f r o m the unnatural, is a difference not of k i n d but of quantity - merely the intensification or retardation of a 'vital' process that they all share i n common. A n d the criteria for determining whether someone or something is diseased or healthy are remarkably relativist: simply 'the circumstances and purposes of the organism'. T h u s , 'according to the time of its appearance, one and the same state may very well be at one time disease and at another health' (p. 5 5 5 ; my emphasis). Because it is a question 'of more or less', says N o r d a u , it is impossible to define the limits of the degenerate: 'extreme cases are naturally easily recognized. But w h o shall determine with accuracy the exact point at w h i c h deviation from the normal, i.e. f r o m health, begins?' (P- 5 5 3 ) - W h o indeed? One group called upon by N o r d a u to decide the boundary between the healthy and the degenerate (and to do so w i t h a certainty impossible by his o w n account) is psychiatrists. H e urges them to identify and publicly denounce the degenerates, to unmask their followers as enemies to society, and to caution the public against their lies (pp.

559-60).

The witch-hunting paranoia of some advocates of degeneracy derives f r o m these two facts conceded by N o r d a u : not only do those w h o n o w carry the seeds of social death within them embody a condition w h i c h was once normal and healthy, but even now they remain barely distinguishable from the n o r m a l . Furthermore, progress 7

is itself responsible, i n that degeneracy is produced not only by a falling away f r o m the higher, but by the very effort of reaching towards it. For all its 5 6 0 - o d d pages of unflaggingly confident denunciation of the degenerate, and its equally confident affirmation of the truly, 141

D E A T H , DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

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self-evidently, civilized, Nordau's book is written in the knowledge that the two are in a terrifying proximity and are often indistinguishable. In one respect N o r d a u was only complying with a newer medical model emerging in the nineteenth century, according to which pathological phenomena are identical to corresponding normal phenomena save for quantitative variations. This newer, positivist, conception of disease is to be contrasted with the older, ontological, view, w h i c h insisted on a qualitative difference between disease and health. Whereas the positivist view regards disease as a deficiency or an excess of the normal, and thereby posits a relationship of homogeneity or continuity between the two, the ontological view sees it as a fundamentally different condition, obeying laws completely different from those governing the normal state (Canguilhem, pp. 3 5 , 2 7 5 , 4 9 , 5 6 ) . The positivist conception of disease rejects what Canguilhem calls 'medical Manichaeanism', whereby 'Health and Disease fought over man the way G o o d and E v i l fought over the W o r l d ' (p. 1 0 3 ) , health being associated with salvation and goodness, and disease with sickness, evil and sin. The medical refusal of the ontological conception of disease is effectively a refusal of disease as evil. Canguilhem cites Claude Bernard, who wrote in 1 8 7 6 , 'These ideas of a struggle between two

opposing agents, of an antagonism between life and death,

between health and sickness, inanimate and living nature have had their day. The continuity of phenomena, their imperceptible gradation and harmony, must be recognized everywhere' (p. 7 2 ) . In Degeneration

8

N o r d a u seeks to advance a socio-political vision

based on the old Manichaean dualism, by recourse to the positivist medical model which is in conflict with the most basic tenet of that dualism. It is hardly surprising that he is pressed into contradiction, believing on the one hand that degenerates w i l l perish on their o w n accord, on the other that they must be ruthlessly exposed and crushed. Thus exhaustion renders degenerates incapable of adaptation, and, lacking the reality principle, they w i l l perish of their o w n accord: 'that which inexorably destroys them is that they do not k n o w how to come to terms with reality' (p. 5 4 0 ) . Yet - and here the inconsistency is glaring - they are also regarded as possessing a terrible energy and being hell-bent on disintegrating and perverting the social, psychic 142

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and sexual orders (pp. 6 ,

2 2 - 4 , 2 6 0 , 317ff.).

So, for example, the

newly identified urban degenerates are o n the one hand regarded as enfeebled and unhealthy, o n the other as capable of great powers of adaptability and survival. Ironically, it is the non-degenerates w h o , in the context of urban decay, now become most vulnerable to decline and extinction, being overwhelmed by the disgusting vigour and fecundity of inferior - degenerate - classes and races: what W i l l i a m Greenslade has called 'that threatening degenerative coupling of the fertile and the l o w ' (p. 2 5 7 ) .

9

Another inconsistency concerns the binary opposition between order and disintegration which structures N o r d a u ' s entire book. Ideally for N o r d a u there is a deeper unity-in-differentiation which is the opposite of disintegration. It is, for instance, a mark of evolutionary sophistication, a 'perfection attained very late i n organic evolution', that enables humans to differentiate between the various sense perceptions. But deep d o w n i n us all he discerns a regressive tendency to undifferentiate the sense perceptions i n order to get back to a primal unity which is both a confusion and a perfection: 'a vague intuition of the fundamental unity of essence in all perceptions'. But to approach this primal unity is dangerous, involving 'a retrogression to the very beginning of organic development'. This k i n d of degeneration entails a disintegration of civilized unity through a movement back to primal unity: 'It is a descent from the height of human perfection to the l o w level of the mollusc' (pp.

141-2).

A g a i n , the resemblance of this to

the idea of a death drive is clear. W e can if we like dismiss these inconsistencies as the result of confused, ludicrous thinking. But they were also symptomatic of deeper cultural contradictions emerging and intensifying around fears of social death. A t one level the very idea of social death assumes the existence of discrete, identifiable and containable sources of corruption and degeneration. Y e t , as we've seen, degeneration theory carries within it an older metaphysic which sees death and disintegration as interior to all life. Thus the normal keeps slipping back into the pervert, the healthy into the sick, the same into the other. This echoes the old problem of evil: it was always intrinsic to, or at least parasitic upon, the good. It is partly the indeterminacy in N o r d a u ' s theory between the normal 143

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and the degenerate that makes the latter so terrifying, and leads h i m to declaim, i n the closing pages of Degeneration, that 'whoever looks upon civilization as a good, having value and deserving to be defended, must mercilessly crush under his thumb the anti-social vermin', i.e. degenerates (p. 5 5 7 ) . Others would call for the same thing - including Friedrich Nietzsche, w h o advocated 'the remorseless destruction of all degenerate and parasitic elements' i n the name of 'a tremendous purification . . . of m a n k i n d ' (Ecce Homo, pp. 5 1 , 5 3 , 6 7 ) . T h e threat of degeneration was being conceptualized as never before, and remains central to all those 'secular' programmes of radical social change which have recourse to the idea of social death. Eventually it w o u l d license indiscriminate mass-killing, including genocide.

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IO

Between Degeneration and the Death Drive: Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness

K u r t z , in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness,

is one of the more

enigmatic and chilling protagonists of modern fiction. H e is possessed of a supremely civilized intelligence. W e are told, for example (and not without irony), that 'all Europe' contributed to his making, and that his achievements range from being a great musician to being entrusted to report to 'the International Society for the Suppression of Savage Customs' (pp. 7 1 , 1 0 3 ) . Yet when K u r t z deviates into the barbaric it is because, not in spite, of being so civilized. In Heart of Darkness the overcivilized is seen to have an affinity with the excesses of the primitive. K u r t z embodies the paradox w h i c h degeneration theory tries to explain but only exacerbates, namely that civilization and progress seem to engender their o w n regression and ruin. The very logic of progress evolves civilization into what it had supposedly left behind - into what it is the essence of civilization not to be. K u r t z resembles what M a x N o r d a u and others called a 'higher degenerate' - someone who is excessively, dangerously, brilliant because endowed with an intelligence w h i c h has evolved too far, and at the expense of the other faculties, especially the ethical ones, w h i c h have become correspondingly atrophied. A c c o r d i n g to N o r d a u , the higher degenerate is a genius who is inclined to scepticism, brooding, 'a rage for contradiction' and, of course, atavism; he 'renews intellectually the type of the primitive man of the most remote Stone A g e ' (pp. 1 6 6 , 5 5 6 ; cf. pp. 2 3 , 3 6 , 1 6 1 ) . Like other degenerates, the higher degenerate becomes the focus for fears that evolution itself cannot guarantee progress. But he especially seems to focus the more intense anxiety that evolution is going into reverse; worse still, that evolution is simultaneously accelerating and regressing, and equally out of 145

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control in both respects - a terrifying backward and forward unbinding of the arduously achieved higher forms of civilization and biology. In this respect Kurtz is also a pervert, doing what the pervert does best, accelerating civilization into decadence (the overcivilized), but also, in the same moment - almost as the same process - regressing it back to the primitive (the pre-civilized). The desire of the pervert is characterized by aberrant movement which both progresses and regresses towards death. Put another way, Kurtz (anticipating Aschenbach in Thomas M a n n ' s Death in Venice) makes a fatal, perverse deviation from the normative trajectory of an 'advanced' culture whose essence is within h i m , embracing in the process what that culture defines itself over and against. Crucially, this deviation is not an accident, nor entirely a consequence of the inherent instability of the solitary genius/pervert; he has deviated because and not i n spite of following one of his culture's most advanced trajectories. A s we saw earlier, perverts are agents of degeneration, but they embody the paradoxes which render unstable the very theory which creates and deploys them. The theory cannot contain the paradoxical dynamic which perversion attests to - that contradictory double movement, a regression into primitive origins and a progression, even an acceleration, into decadent decline such that civilization is doubly beleaguered: behind it is the scandal of its origins, while ahead is the scandal of its destiny, to become everything which it is not yet, yet always was. N o r d a u castigates the artists of his time because they try to disintegrate the arduously achieved and precarious unities of civilization. M y argument here (and subsequently in relation to Death in Venice) is that in a certain sense N o r d a u is right, albeit for the wrong reasons. What we find in writers like Joseph C o n r a d and Thomas M a n n is what N o r d a u knew and fights fiercely against, including the seductiveness of dissolution. Cedric Watts has remarked on Kurtz's 'unforgettably perverse individuality', oriented towards what the novel describes as monstrous appetites and passions - 'sexual, sadistic, avaricious, megalomanic' (Conrad's Heart of Darkness, pp. 1 5 1 , 1 1 4 ) . C o n r a d does not make sexuality the key to Kurtz's perversity; his 'unspeakable rites' (Heart of Darkness, p. 7 1 ) include the sexual, but they cannot be explained exclusively, or even primarily, by it. There is a more inclusive dimen146

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sion to his deviation, as befits a text which, though chronologically only just prior to Freud's first and major work on the sexual perversions (Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality,

1905),

might be described

as pre- or even non-Freudian in conception, at least with regard to the issue of sexual perversity.

1

Both K u r t z and the narrator of the tale, M a r l o w , are described as wanderers (pp. 8 , 8 0 ) . But it is Kurtz who wanders perversely, deviating from his assigned task; M a r l o w only follows, seeing and understanding a great deal more than most, but never as much as K u r t z , whose deviation becomes the focus for a radically paradoxical narrative full of dangerous knowledge. In the process, there emerges a desolate 2

affinity between the primitive and the civilized, suggesting that the survival of civilization depends upon the rest of us not wandering (deviating) even as far as M a r l o w , let alone Kurtz.

That rioting invasion of soundless life ' G o i n g up that river', says M a r l o w , 'was like travelling back to the earliest beginnings of the w o r l d . . . we penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness.' Discovered there are not so much the distant, obscure origins of civilization as its identity now: ' a l l of the past is still in the mind of man'. Culture and civilization are merely a 'surface-truth', involving a necessary disavowal of the other alwayspresent truth of distant origins still present (Heart of Darkness, pp. 4 8 5 2 , 5 5 ) . But this other truth, though compelling, is deeply obscure. M a r l o w discovers a deserted hut, inexplicably vacated and (equally inexplicably) containing a remnant of its one-time civilized inhabitant, a tattered book called An Inquiry into Some Points of

Seamanship.

The surface of things, including this hut and this book, does not confirm by contrast a deeper truth but on the contrary becomes itself increasingly undecipherable and disorienting. This is the truth - a k i n d of desublimation which eludes meaning. An Inquiry into Some Points of Seamanship, as its all too apt title proclaims, is necessarily blinkered in its purposefulness. It reminds us of the chief accountant M a r l o w has met earlier, w h o , elegantly dressed and even slightly scented, works industriously at his desk: ' i n the great 147

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demoralization of the land he kept up his appearance'. H i s books are in apple-pie order; M a r l o w encounters him in the middle of the colossal and dark jungle 'making correct entries of perfectly correct transactions' while 'fifty feet below the doorstep I could see the grove of death' (pp. 2 6 , 2 8 ) . Like this accountant, the book expresses 'a singleness of intention, an honest concern for the right way of going to w o r k ' (p. 5 4 ) , the obsessively narrow, undeviating civilized quest as it was supposed to cut through the jungle. M a r l o w half-subscribes to the same; to be preoccupied with the mundane tasks, to keep the ship going, is the wise person's blinkered choice; attending to 'the mere incidents of the surface' keeps the 'reality', the 'truth' of the 'mysterious stillness' almost hidden: 'There was surface-truth enough in these things to save a wiser man' (p. 5 2 ) . Thus the preoccupation with getting hold of some rivets to repair M a r l o w ' s ship — 'to stop the hole' (p. 4 0 ) . Civilization itself is only an intensity of concentration, a blinkered adherence to the straight and narrow. This is an inevitable and not an accidental narrowness, epitomized by the 'civilized' quest itself, the collecting of ivory: a brutal, industrious, determined operation executed by agents necessarily oblivious to all else. But there occurs the fatal swerve into knowledge, the more terrifying for being a knowledge only of the falsity both of what 'counts' as knowledge and of the assumed difference between the civilized and the primitive upon which the effort of discrimination depends. This is the sense in which the land 'demoralizes': it saps the motivating energy of those civilized subjects entering it. What they thought was the self-sustaining core of their being dissolves away, leaving an emptiness that fills up with otherness. Similarly, civilization's frenzied, blind expression of its o w n acquisitive dynamic (the quest for ivory) is halted, and civilization becomes dis-organized, unravelled, confused; in the very process of defining itself over and against the primitive, the civilized is invaded by the other whose history and proximity it requires yet disavows. The civilized invasion is doomed once it allows itself to hear that 'rioting invasion of soundless life' (p. 4 3 ) . Kurtz deviates from the 'singleness of intention' into the obliterating silence which that singleness also disavows, into a wilderness which whispers to h i m things he did not k n o w , which 'echoed within him because he was hollow at the core' (p. 8 3 ) . Yet it is from within this 148

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hollowness that 'forgotten and brutal instincts' are also awakened, 'the memory of gratified and monstrous passions. This alone, I was convinced, had driven h i m out to the edge of the forest . . . had beguiled his unlawful soul beyond the bounds of permitted aspirations' (pp.

94-5).

W h a t is glimpsed here is the most terrifying paradox: the

perverse frenzy of the 'primitive' is both the energetic antithesis of death and its intimate familiar, its prime mover. The 'rioting invasion of soundless life' is also, to echo an earlier and very different writer, George Herbert, 'the blast of death's incessant m o t i o n ' (above, C h a p ter 5 ) . A Western obsession is displaced to, rediscovered w i t h i n , A f r i c a . After Kurtz's death M a r l o w returns to L o n d o n . H e visits Kurtz's 'intended', to return to her some letters and a photograph (of her) which K u r t z had given h i m . H e lies to her about K u r t z ('The last w o r d he pronounced was - your name'), and he does so in order to protect her. W h a t M a r l o w was unable or unwilling to speak to her is hardly revealed, or revealed only as that which confuses what we thought we knew. In the foreground is a mindless contemporary civilization scarcely removed from its origins in a frenzied primeval anarchy. A n d behind both the contemporary moment and the primeval past is something into which they fade indistinguishably - from it, and from each other: the oblivion, the sea of inexorable time, the great solitude which dissolves all into an entropic oblivion, the darkness which M a r l o w senses even there, in the L o n d o n drawing-room of this w o m a n , and which the Romans encountered when they journeyed up the Thames but 'yesterday'. What preoccupies M a r l o w is perhaps less these primitive forces resurfacing within the blind plundering energies of the civilized than the forces of oblivion inside both: the sea of inexorable time and the great solitude are not only what we eventually dissolve into, but also what pervade the present, flooding it with a past which can be neither k n o w n nor escaped in the future - that is the heart of darkness: Nobody

moved

f o r a t i m e . ' W e h a v e l o s t t h e first o f t h e e b b , '

said

the

D i r e c t o r , suddenly. I raised m y head. T h e offing was barred by a black bank o f c l o u d s , a n d the t r a n q u i l w a t e r w a y l e a d i n g to the u t t e r m o s t ends o f the earth f l o w e d s o m b r e u n d e r an overcast sky - seemed to lead i n t o the heart o f a n i m m e n s e d a r k n e s s , ( p p . 1Q5, 9 7 , 8 3 , 8,

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Kurtz is the quintessentially 'civilized' subject who discovers not only the 'savage w i t h i n ' but a deeper hollowness, the subjective counterpart of a universal emptiness which surrounds and informs all. Kurtz's existential angst cannot plausibly be read as an affirmation of authentic selfhood; it is much more like the appalled recognition of a subjectivity at once informed and rendered utterly insignificant by what has preceded, surrounds, and w i l l survive it. But nor is 3

this merely regression, since the historical narrative which regression presupposes is also obliterated. W h i c h means that this is not yet, not quite, Freud's death drive. A profoundly regressive encounter with the oblivion which is before time and before memory - that is reminiscent of the death drive: We were cut off from the comprehension of our surroundings; we glided past like phantoms . . . We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember, because we were travelling in the night of first ages, of those ages that are gone, leaving hardly a sign - and no memories. (P.

51)

It is not yet the death drive because it occurs in the shadow of 'the incomprehensible frenzy' of the primitive. It is not that the primitive signifies or affirms the life-force; it too is ultimately as insignificant as the civilized in relation to 'the interminable miles of silence' (p. 5 3 ) . It is rather that M a r l o w remains fascinated by it all, 'wondering and secretly appalled' (p. 5 1 ) . A s for Kurtz's sense of the horror of it all, there can be no horror, only relief, in the silence which the death drive delivers us to. For M a r l o w and Kurtz, caught somewhere between degeneration and the death drive, there is residual terror in the seductive encounter with non-being.

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IV MODERNITY

AND

PHILOSOPHY: THE OF

AUTHENTICITY NOTHINGNESS

II

The Philosophical Embrace of Death: Hegel

W h e n Schopenhauer declared that 'without death there w o u l d hardly have been any philosophizing' (World, II.463) he was repeating what was by then a familiar idea, but one w h i c h w o u l d , if anything, become even truer of certain influential modern philosophers — especially those w h o make the relationship of consciousness to death of paramount significance. T w o such (utterly different) philosophers are Schopenhauer himself and Hegel. Schopenhauer regarded his o w n philosophy as antithetical to Hegel's, w h i c h (and whom) he hated, considering h i m to be (among other things) an obscurantist. Readers coming anew to Hegel may sympathize with this charge, finding themselves perplexed and alienated by his style and complexity. But it is a complexity w h i c h must be tackled, since there is no philosopher more influential in modern thought.

The dialectic of death Hegel tries to get beyond the dualism, so influential in Western metaphysics, whereby opposition is construed as an absolute difference and distinction between separate identities. So confident is he that the contradictions of consciousness and existence can be ultimately reconciled, he incorporates them within identity, rather than trying to exclude them f r o m it. H i s dialectic thinking about death constitutes a new and radical phase of death's incorporation into being. For Hegel, all opposites are eventually 'sublated' into a superior unity; the self-consciousness of absolute spirit finally incorporates all division and contradiction into itself. Experientially we lack ultimate 153

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reconciliation in the Absolute; we live stretched across a fierce dialectic in which identity is dependent upon otherness or difference - dependent, that is, upon what it is not. But, crucially, this otherness can never be kept other: to be dependent for my identity upon the other (part of what I am is that I am not that) means that this otherness is a part of my identity. That which I am not is not something alongside and independent of what I am, but, i n a contradictory and divisive way, it is also interior to what I am. The other is within the same; difference is integral to identity. M o r e generally for Hegel, being presupposes not being, and vice versa. Further, i n order to be, everything must undergo a dialectic sublation or negation (Aufhebung) by, i n or as its opposite. Hegel neatly exploits the contradictory meanings of the German aufheben: both 'to annul' and 'to preserve'. A s with otherness or difference, negation is not exterior to what it negates, but becomes intrinsic to it. What that means is that everything which negates the Absolute is also a constitutive part of the Absolute by virtue of that negation. This is a crucial aspect of dialectical analysis: what is transcended is also in some sense preserved; the process of overcoming is also a taking into, an incorporation. So, as we shall see, infinitude takes finitude into itself, and selfconsciousness must risk itself in otherness, difference and even nonbeing, in order to be and to k n o w itself. Submitting G o d and eternity to the same dialectic philosophy, Hegel infiltrates them too with death. Hegel describes finitude as 'immediate being', which, i n general, 'means nothing more than a process of self-distinguishing'. Further, C o n s c i o u s n e s s is p r e c i s e l y t h e m o d e o f f i n i t u d e o f s p i r i t : d i s t i n c t i o n is p r e s e n t h e r e . . . s o m e t h i n g h a s its l i m i t o r e n d i n s o m e t h i n g else, a n d i n t h i s w a y t h e y a r e l i m i t e d . F i n i t u d e is t h i s d i s t i n g u i s h i n g , w h i c h i n s p i r i t t a k e s t h e f o r m of consciousness.

But finitude is also 'eternally self-sublating'; its inner nature is 'contradiction - i.e., not to be, but rather to destroy itself - it is self-sublation . . . finite things have the form of perishing - their being is the sort that directly sublates i t s e l f (Lectures, III.263; 1.422). In other words, death is not merely the escape from finite existence, but its essence and truth: 154

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Our sentient consciousness, too, insofar as it has to do with singular [things], belongs to natural finitude. The finite is defined as the negative . . . The universal manifestation [of it] is death - the finite perishes. This is the renunciation of finitude. The finite will not last; it is not what abides - instead there is posited here really and in actuality what it intrinsically is. The sentient vitality of the single being has its terminus in death . . . The whole realm of the senses posits itself as what it really is, in its demise. This is where finitude ceases and is escaped from. (1.290; my emphasis) In general, declares Hegel, 'death is both the extreme limit of finitude and . . . the dissolution of limitation. [Death is] the moment of spirit' (III.126).

Hegel drives death not only into the centre of life, but, more specifically and most significantly, into thought. Here, death becomes not so much the opposite of thought, but what impels it into activity. T h i n k i n g , like desire, begins with death. Both death and thought offer an escape from a 'renunciation of finitude': The escape from . . . finitude in consciousness, however, is not just what is called death; the escape from this finitude is thought generally - it is already present in representation so far as thinking is active in that. (III. 126) In the preface to Phenomenology

of Spirit the association of thought

and death becomes dialectical: The activity of dissolution is the power and work of the Understanding, the most astonishing and mightiest of powers, or rather the absolute power . . . The tremendous power of the negative . . . is the energy of thought, of the pure T . Equally important, the life of spirit must maintain itself i n death, finding itself in its o w n dismemberment: Death, if that is what we want to call this non-actuality, is of all things the most dreadful, and to hold fast to what is dead requires the greatest strength . . . The life of Spirit is not the life that shrinks from death and keeps itself untouched by devastation, but rather the life that endures it and maintains itself in it. It wins its truth only when, in utter dismemberment, it finds itself, (pp.

18-19)

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The bad infinite Hegel identifies the error whereby, instead of dialectically incorporating the finite into the infinite, we try to escape the former by simply embracing the latter (a move typical of religion and metaphysics). This results only in what Hegel calls the 'bad' or 'spurious' infinite. The main point is this: to try to keep the concepts of the finite and the infinite distinct is to remain i n the realm of finite thinking; the binary opposition finite/infinite still presupposes the finite: ' i n the very act of keeping the infinite pure and aloof from the finite, the infinite is only made finite' (Logic, p. 1 3 7 ) . According to this account, Western metaphysics, including all its Christian manifestations, has remained in the realm of finite thinking - that is, remained inside exactly that which it was its raison d'être to transcend. As Hegel puts it in the Science of Logic, the bad infinite can be regarded as a straight line going on for ever instead of returning to itself, as i n a circle. A s such the bad infinite is merely the repetition 1

of the finite, an 'infinite progress' which is akin to an infinite regress in that it defines itself against the finite only to always re-encounter it - a progress which is therefore tediously, fruitlessly, for ever ad infinitum.

It was because he remained trapped in the spurious 'linear'

progress of bad infinitude that Hereclitus believed everything was governed by the change and flux of mutability (Lectures, 1 . 4 2 2 - 3 ) . This notion of bad infinity resembles what we have been calling the impossibility or futility of desire. In his Aesthetics Hegel describes the mythical overthrow of the Titans, whose punishments then include an insatiable eagle which for ever devours the self-renewing liver of Prometheus, and the unquenchable thirst of Tantalus. These punishments signify 'the inherently measureless, the bad infinite, the longing of the " o u g h t " , the unsatiated craving of subjective natural desire which in its continual recurrence never attains the final peace of satisfaction' (Aesthetics, 1.466). If Hegel is right, and Western metaphysics remains trapped within a bad infinity which includes this 'unsatiated craving of subjective natural desire', this would suggest why, as we've seen, within that tradition

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transcendence is so often envisaged as not an alternative reality so much as a self-annihilating freedom from desire. Hegel's dialectic alternative to bad infinity is radical: in a very real sense it commits us to taking death into life. What this means is that the affirmation of true infinity is contained within the finite i n the sense that true infinity is inextricably a part of this process of ceasing to be: T h e finite c h a n g e s i t s e l f ; i t a p p e a r s as a n o t h e r , [ a n d so] o t h e r c o m e s t o o t h e r . W h a t is t h e case h e r e is t h a t b o t h a r e t h e s a m e . T h e o t h e r c o i n c i d e s w i t h itself a n d i n the o t h e r comes t o itself . . . T h i s is the a f f i r m a t i o n , this is being . . .

the genuine other of the finite is the infinite. (Lectures, 1 . 4 2 2 - 3 )

This entails the contentious proposition that the infinite itself is at first something finite or negative - a proposition w h i c h seems to require that the finite is the foundation for the being of G o d (1.424). Hegel accepts this, and the blasphemy it seemingly entails. Spirit, he says, must have this character of finitude w i t h i n i t s e l f - that m a y seem blasphemous. B u t i f it d i d n o t have it w i t h i n itself, a n d thus it c o n f r o n t e d finitude f r o m the o t h e r side, t h e n its i n f i n i t u d e w o u l d be a s p u r i o u s i n f i n i t u d e .

Just as the infinitude w h i c h is set over and against the finite is spurious, so, if G o d is set over and against the finite, he becomes himself finite and limited. T h i s sounds still more blasphemous, but Hegel is unequivocal: 'Finitude must be posited in G o d h i m s e l f ( I I I . 2 6 3 - 4 ) . M o r e severely still, the Absolute must 'tread the path of

2

extinction

and death'. In death is the birth of the spiritual realm, i n the sense that spirit has to partake of death; it has the 'element of death in itself as belonging to its essence' (Aesthetics, 1 . 3 4 8 - 9 ; my emphasis). Hegel's detailed account of what he regards as the 'true' relation of the infinite to the finite, of the Absolute to death, is a crucial determining instance of dialectical negation and a powerful reminder of the radical implications of dialectic reasoning: the finite and the infinite 'are inseparable and at the same time mutually related as sheer others; each has in its own self the other of itself' (Logic, p. 1 4 1 ; my emphasis). Inspired by the Christian Crucifixion, Hegel also inscribes death 157

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into love: 'Death is love itself.' This is interesting not least for the way in which it suggests an elusive yet significant masochistic strain in his dialectic. Declaring that 'the pinnacle of finitude is . . . death, the anguish of death', Hegel adds, 'The temporal and complete existence of the divine idea in the present is envisaged only in [Christ's] death.' Here death becomes the highest love, the identity of the divine and the human at its absolute fearful peak, 'For [love] consists in giving up one's personality, all that is one's o w n etc.': [ L o v e ] is t h e s u p r e m e s u r r e n d e r [of o n e s e l f ] i n t h e o t h e r , e v e n i n t h i s m o s t e x t r i n s i c other b e i n g o f d e a t h , the death o f the absolute representative o f the l i m i t s o f l i f e . T h e d e a t h o f C h r i s t is t h e v i s i o n o f t h i s l o v e i t s e l f - n o t [ l o v e merely] for or o n behalf of others, but precisely

divinity

i n this universal

i d e n t i t y w i t h o t h e r - b e i n g , d e a t h . T h e m o n s t r o u s u n i f i c a t i o n o f these a b s o l u t e e x t r e m e s is l o v e i t s e l f . . .

[Lectures, III.

124-5)

Christ's death, he adds, 'may be represented as a sacrificial death, as the act of absolute satisfaction' (III. 1 2 6 ) . The dialectic manifestation of human love promises that profound sense of completion in the other, the sublime transcendence of 'bad infinity' which also entails a loss of the self: L o v e is a d i s t i n g u i s h i n g o f the t w o , w h o n e v e r t h e l e s s a r e a b s o l u t e l y

not

d i s t i n g u i s h e d for each other. T h e consciousness o r feeling o f the i d e n t i t y o f t h e t w o - t o be o u t s i d e o f m y s e l f a n d i n the o t h e r - t h i s is l o v e . I h a v e m y self-consciousness

n o t i n myself b u t i n the other. I a m satisfied a n d h a v e

p e a c e w i t h m y s e l f o n l y i n t h i s o t h e r - a n d I am

o n l y because I have peace

w i t h m y s e l f ; i f I d i d n o t h a v e i t t h e n I w o u l d be a c o n t r a d i c t i o n t h a t f a l l s t o pieces.

T h i s other,

because it l i k e w i s e exists

outside

itself, has

its self-

c o n s c i o u s n e s s o n l y i n m e ; a n d b o t h t h e o t h e r a n d I are o n l y t h i s c o n s c i o u s n e s s of being-outside-ourselves

a n d of o u r i d e n t i t y ; w e are o n l y this i n t u i t i o n ,

f e e l i n g , a n d k n o w l e d g e o f o u r u n i t y . T h i s is l o v e , a n d w i t h o u t k n o w i n g t h a t l o v e is b o t h a d i s t i n g u i s h i n g a n d t h e s u b l a t i o n o f the d i s t i n c t i o n , o n e s p e a k s e m p t i l y o f i t . (III.276)

This affirmation of unity is eloquent yet completely vulnerable to being unbound by the death that Hegel has so enthusiastically, radically, embraced in its making.

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'No going back' Was Hegel an atheist? Alexandre Kojève, i n the most influential modern interpretation of his w o r k , believes so. H e concedes that, i n a general sense, Hegel's philosophy is a secularized Christian theology, and insists that Hegel knew this too. But for Kojeve the crucial difference is that Hegel embraces a concept of death that denies immortality, w h i c h means also that his is a 'philosophy of death (or, what is the same thing: of atheism)'. ('The Idea of Death', pp. 1 5 4 , 1 2 4 ) . Robert Solomon also believes that Hegel was essentially an atheist, since his Absolute 'is i n no interesting sense, G o d ' (p. 6 3 0 ) . In contrast, Stephen Houlgate interprets Hegel's philosophy as profoundly Christian (p. 2 2 7 ) . The dispute revolves round issues of interpretation which are unlikely ever to be settled. For our purposes it hardly matters, since the 3

significant point is that Hegel does not rationalize death in the Enlightenment sense of trying to demystify it; rather, he reworks Christianity's paradoxical and even disturbingidealization of death. Further, through the dialectic, he takes death not only into finitude through Christ that being acceptable and even required by an orthodox Christianity - but also into what supposedly redeems death (God, Eternity, the Infinite), thus pre-empting the Christian quest for a spiritual transcendence of death i n that absolutely different order of reality. H e is so confident that spirit is able to affirm an ultimate unity that he willingly takes division and death into the heart of what traditionally was thought, of its very metaphysical nature, to exclude them. Arguably, at least for us, n o w , the Hegelian Absolute can never contain let alone reconcile contradiction and division. W e - and that mostly includes even those who w o u l d repudiate psychoanalysis - are closer to Freud than to Hegel i n believing that reality is recalcitrant, forever disrupting our attempts to replace division with unity. Jacques Lacan says, alluding to Hegel: A b r i e f a s i d e — w h e n o n e is m a d e i n t o t w o , t h e r e is n o g o i n g b a c k o n i t . It c a n n e v e r r e v e r t t o m a k i n g o n e a g a i n , n o t e v e n a n e w o n e . T h e Aufhebung [sublation] is o n e o f those sweet d r e a m s o f p h i l o s o p h y . p . 156) 159

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This is nowhere more true than with death. It is as if, to borrow Aries's terms, Hegel's idealizing rationality seeks to 'tame' death through incorporation, only to discover that this containing of death (for others, later) renders it 'wilder' than ever, because now more 'inside' thought than ever before. A n d , if we cannot share Hegel's rationalism or his confidence, the fact remains that philosophically speaking there is no going back; thus embraced, thus internalized, the contradictions may at last be irrevocable. A n d yet in another sense Hegel has taken us back: once again death has been discovered to be the essence of life, or rather thought. A n d if the supreme rationalism of his system could follow only from a hubristic privileging of human reason and consciousness, it is also true that in this same system consciousness ends up being dialectically sublated into Spirit or Absolute Being; in a sense it disappears. A n d when later thinkers turn away from the idea that Spirit or Absolute Being exists at a l l , let alone has the capacity for ultimate synthesis, consciousness does not resume its former autonomy; in the most important philosophical writing after Hegel, consciousness w i l l never be able to divest itself of the death and otherness which he inscribed within it.

160

12

Heidegger, Kojève and Sartre

W e k n o w we are going to die; we k n o w everyone dies. Y e t , argues M a r t i n Heidegger

(1889-1976),

we tend to k n o w this truth only

inauthentically; we acknowledge it, but in a way w h i c h forecloses o n its full significance for how we live. O u r social existence conspires w i t h this evasion; we exist within the confines of 'average everydayness', gradually wasting our life in the self-deceptions of the collective 'they'. Such an existence 'provides [besorgt] a constant tranquillization

about

death' (Being and Time, p. 2 9 8 ) . T o live authentically we must realize 1

that death is not the eventual end of life but the inner possibility of Being or Dasein. Death 'is a phenomenon of life' in the sense that, just as Dasein is already and constantly the not-yet of death, so 'it is already its end too . . . Death is a way to be, w h i c h Dasein takes over as soon as it is. " A s soon as man comes to life, he is at once o l d enough to d i e " ' (pp.

289-90).

For Heidegger we are fully free only when we have understood what death means. T h e n and only then do we fully comprehend our possibilities and potential. This profound, disturbing comprehension of the truth of death allows us to grasp, as never before, 'the possibility of understanding one's ownmost and uttermost potentiality-for-Being — that is to say, the possibility of authentic existence' (pp. 2 9 8 , 3 0 7 ) . A l l this inevitably occurs i n a way w h i c h leaves us essentially and ineluctably anxious. Thus Heidegger speaks of 'an impassioned

free-

dom towards death - a freedom which has been released from the Illusions of the "they", and which is factical, certain of itself, and anxious' (p. 3 1 1 ) . Heidegger takes up the old idea that death is not the event w h i c h ends life but a profound reality which in-forms it, and he seeks to take this truth so fully into our being that we are 161

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compelled to embrace authentic existence and leave the world of false sociableness. Death is what bestows meaning upon life, and, far from being the ultimate negation of human freedom, it actually makes such freedom possible.

2

Existentialists w i l l find in Heidegger a crucial inspiration (albeit one from which he dissociated himself): becoming aware of our death, which is to say of our finitude, we also become aware that we are not predestined to be anything, and that we do not have an abiding essence which dictates what we should be and do in the w o r l d . As Jean-Paul Sartre was to put it in Being and Nothingness (thus reversing a priority hitherto fundamental in Western metaphysics), existence precedes essence, not vice versa: 'Freedom is existence, and in it existence precedes essence' (pp.

567-8).

Authentic existence is possible only

through and after this realization, which for Sartre would also become the philosophical foundation for a radical ethical and political commitment to praxis.

Kojève

and nothingness

Heidegger's philosophy is built around a single central concept, D a sein. Yet it is not possible to say clearly what he meant by Dasein,

3

except that it has an agonizing relation of proximity and distance to nothingness or non-being. Hegel has argued that Being presupposed non-being, and now Heidegger tightens the paradox: 'Da-sein means: being held out into the nothing,' while 'nothing is the negation of the totality of beings; it is nonbeing pure and simple'. N o t h i n g is not the indeterminate opposite of beings, but belongs to the Beings of beings. Hegel is right: 'Pure Being and pure N o t h i n g are therefore the same [Science of Logic v o l . 1 ) ' . So there is a radical affinity between Being and nothingness. So fundamental is nothingness that for Heidegger 4

the most profound question becomes ' W h y are there beings at a l l , and why not rather nothing?' ('What is Metaphysics?' pp. 1 0 5 , 9 9 , 1 1 0 , 1 1 2 ) . This has struck many as strange, but, as we shall see, this concept of nothingness comes to play a crucial role for subsequent thinkers like Sartre and, before h i m , Alexandre Kojève. In the

1930s,

in Paris, Kojève gave a course on Hegel, the text of which was published 162

HEIDEGGER, KOJÈVE A N D SARTRE

in 1 9 4 7 . T h o u g h partial and, in the view of some, erroneous, the influence of Kojève's interpretation of Hegel was extensive, and can be discerned in most of the significant developments in French philosophy in the postwar period, including existentialism, the diverse forms of post-structuralism, and through to post-modernism.

5

The Heideggerian conviction that man is truly free only when he embraces his o w n finitude is not only about confronting one's finite existence; it is also about humankind's nothingness - our no-thingness. In developing this second aspect of finitude, Kojève took further Heidegger's view of the relation of being to death. M a n is distinguished from the rest of nature in virtue of his self-consciousness. This is of enormous consequence, not least because to be self-aware is already a k i n d of disturbance and alienation; what one is aware of is not so much one's self, but one's separateness from the rest of the w o r l d , and what one introspects is not a self-evident essence or identity, but an emptiness or no-thingness which is the basis of desire - the desire to become, to possess, to be recognized. Kojève defines 'the I of desire' as 'an emptiness greedy for content'; ' M a n ' , he says, 'must be an emptiness, a nothingness' (Introduction,

p. 3 8 ) . This emptiness is

inseparable from a capacity for negation and negativity which includes the negating of that which is given, in order to create what does not yet exist: t h e I o f D e s i r e is a n e m p t i n e s s t h a t r e c e i v e s a r e a l p o s i t i v e c o n t e n t by

negating action

t h a t satisfies D e s i r e

in destroying,

transforming

only and

' a s s i m i l a t i n g ' t h e d e s i r e d n o n - I . (p. 4)

M a n , says Kojève, is 'Negativity

incarnate, or, as Hegel says,

"negative-or-negate-ive-entity" (das Negative). It is only by comprehending M a n as Negativity that we [can] comprehend h i m in his " m i r a c u l o u s " human specificity' ('The Idea of Death', p. 1 3 1 ) . M o r e 6

over, this negativity is nothing less than the essence of a human freedom which 'manifests itself in its pure or "absolute" state as death' (p. 1 4 0 ) . In Kojève's insistence on this point the influence of Heidegger is apparent: If, t h e r e f o r e , o n t h e o n e h a n d , f r e e d o m hand, Negativity

is N o t h i n g n e s s

is N e g a t i v i t y ,

a n d if o n the

a n d d e a t h , t h e r e is n o f r e e d o m

163

other

without

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death, and only a mortal being can be free. We can even say that death is the final and authentic 'manifestation' of freedom, (p. 139) Kojève finds that death plays a 'primordial role' in Hegel's philosophy: 'acceptance without reserve of the fact of death, or of human finitude conscious of itself, is the ultimate source of all of Hegel's thought'. For Hegel, the search for absolute Knowledge or W i s d o m is inseparable from the conscious acceptance of death as complete annihilation. Kojève finds in Hegel a new philosophical articulation of old paradoxes: 'the human being itself is no other thing than . . . [a] death that lives a human life'; ' M a n is not only mortal-, he is death incarnate; he is his o w n death'; M a n not only knows that he w i l l die, 'he is the consciousness of his death' (pp. 1 1 4 , 1 2 4 , 1 3 4 , 1 5 1 , 1 5 3 ) . Materialist philosophers radically reconceptualize the principle of change (below, Chapter 1 5 ) . A s mutability, it was the agent of death; now, as praxis, it is the route to a different and better existence via revolution. W i t h Kojève, something even closer to death than change becomes the basis of man's true nature: nothingness. In Western theology nothing was associated with evil; we saw how for John Donne man as mortal being is riven with mutability and loss precisely because he is made of nothing (above, Chapter 5 ) . Traditional metaphysics sought for the ultimate, unchanging reality behind appearances, for the substance which was beyond finitude, change and death, which was both essentially and absolutely the metaphysical opposite of nothing. A n d yet such entities - for instance the human soul - were always hovering on the edge of non-being even as they were said to be the most intense form of being. That is one reason why materialists deny their existence, embracing instead the profound, liberating reality of change. Here, with Kojève, it is non-being as well as change which is being reconceptualized; once the place of death, absence and unfreedom, nothingness is now the place of death, absence and freedom. A n d , to an extent to which has not yet been fully realized, at least in Anglo-American contexts, this has become an animating principle of all the various anti-humanisms of the last half-century. The accuracy of Kojève's reading of Hegel has been questioned, but 7

its influence is indisputable; Hegel's o w n reworking of the paradoxes of severe theology were here given a new existential intensity, most

164

HEIDEGGER, KOJÈVE A N D SARTRE

significantly in the idea that man's knowledge of his death - his essential finitude - pervades his whole being, the basis of both his individuality and his freedom. A n d , crucially, in this line of thinking, the philosophy of praxis is not what substitutes for, or transcends, the philosophy of death, but what embraces it. Praxis, or at least human freedom and potentiality, springs from a nothingness and negativity which include death. H u m a n i s m , even in its grimmer phases, never ceases that double movement of expansion and incorporation; perhaps in Kojève there is even a reconceptualization of mortality, with limit taking on the attributes of the limitless. Kojève has a most revealing footnote where he compares Heidegger and M a r x i n relation to Hegel: H e i d e g g e r has t a k e n u p a g a i n the H e g e l i a n t h e m e s c o n c e r n i n g d e a t h : b u t he neglects the c o m p l e m e n t a r y

themes concerning Struggle a n d L a b o u r ;

his p h i l o s o p h y does not succeed i n rendering an account of H i s t o r y .

thus

8

M a r x , on the other hand, retains

the

themes of Struggle and L a b o u r ,

a n d his p h i l o s o p h y

is

thus

e s s e n t i a l l y ' h i s t o r i c i s t ' ; b u t h e n e g l e c t s t h e t h e m e o f d e a t h (even w h i l e a d m i t t i n g t h a t m a n is m o r t a l ) ; t h a t is w h y h e d o e s n o t see ( a n d e v e n less

[do]

c e r t a i n ' M a r x i s t s ' ) t h a t t h e R e v o l u t i o n is n o t o n l y i n f a c t b u t a l s o e s s e n t i a l l y - a n d n e c e s s a r i l y - b l o o d y (the H e g e l i a n t h e m e o f t h e T e r r o r ) , (p. 156)

For Kojève, taking death back into praxis entails an embrace of literal death.

Sartre W e a s s e r t . . . t h a t a r t is a m e d i t a t i o n o n l i f e a n d n o t o n d e a t h . ( S a r t r e ,

What

is L i t e r a t u r e ? , p. 232)

Sartre was influenced by Hegel's account of dialectic and Heidegger's account of nothingness, and in Being and Nothingness

he weaves

them together. H e takes the Hegelian dialectic into consciousness through an important distinction between being-for-itself and beingin-itself. Provisionally we can say that being-for-itself characterizes

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consciousness - especially human consciousness - whereas being-initself refers to that k i n d of being which is devoid of consciousness simply that which is, that which is self-identical. Being-for-itself is defined i n terms of lack, always requiring, and always i n search of, something to complete it. A t one level this is a lack of, and hence a desire for, being i n the second sense (the selfidentical) . But consciousness can never become being-in-itself 'without losing itself as for-itself'. For that reason alone, human existence w i l l always entail suffering (Being and Nothingness,

p. 90). Following

previous philosophers like Descartes and Hegel, Sartre argues that consciousness is always consciousness of something, and this i n a radical sense: there is not first consciousness and, second, consciousness of something; rather, consciousness just is this consciousness of. A n d to be conscious of is always to be conscious somewhere - to be positioned within, and in relation to, the w o r l d . Likewise with desire, itself inseparable from consciousness: there is not first desire and then a thousand particular desires; desire is these desires (p. 5 6 5 ) . A n d consciousness is always of what it is not: what I ceaselessly aim towards, says Sartre, is that which I am not, or not yet; I aim towards my o w n possibilities. This confers on consciousness two further attributes: negation and nothingness. Negation refers to the fact that to discern that this is the case is necessarily to realize that something else is not the case; to discern a particular presence is simultaneously to discern the possibility of its absence; to make this choice is not to make others. A n d this means, for Sartre, that 'the necessary condition for our saying not is that non-being be a perpetual presence in us and outside of us, that nothingness haunt being' (p. 1 1 ) . A s he graphically puts it shortly after, 'Nothingness lies coiled i n the heart of being - like a w o r m ' (p. 2 1 ) . M a n is the being who is his o w n nothingness, and through w h o m nothingness comes into the w o r l d ; man's freedom is strangely dependent upon being 'paralysed with nothingness' (p. 4 5 ) . 'Fundamentally,' says Sartre, 'man is the desire to be' This desire is nothing more and nothing less than a lack: 'desire . . . is identical with lack of being'. This idea of lack is crucial, embodying as it does two barely compatible ideas: on the one hand emptiness, vacancy and

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permanent incompletion; on the other freedom, agency and responsibility: The for-itself is defined ontologically as a lack of being . . . The for-itself chooses because it is lack; freedom is really synonymous with lack . . . the for-itself is the being which is to itself its own lack of being, (pp. 565, 567) Being-for-itself desires completion in this other k i n d of being: 'human reality is the desire of being-in-itself . . . It is as consciousness that it wishes to have the impermeability and infinite density of the in-itself' (p. 5 6 6 ) . A t the same time, it ceaselessly desires to 'nihilate' this other k i n d of being, since to actually become it w o u l d entail the demise of itself. Consciousness is haunted by an impossible contradictory desire which is nevertheless its fundamental project: to attain the 'pure consciousness' which would come of a union of the for-itself and the in-itself - that is, a consciousness devoid of lack and nothingness because n o w founded on and identical with itself, complete and self-sufficient as consciousness:

an in-itself which is still a for-itself.

In other words, ' T o be man is to reach toward being G o d . O r , if you prefer, man fundamentally is the desire to be G o d ' (p. 5 6 6 ) . T h e euphoric humanism of Feuerbach sought to take G o d back into man on the grounds that G o d was only ever a projection of man's best self (see below, Chapter 1 5 ) . N o w the existential humanist is characterized by an impossible desire to be the G o d who does not exist. That this later humanism is full of anguish does not make it less hubristic than its earlier counterpart: hitherto humanism had taken G o d back into itself; now it takes the absence of G o d into self, construing a philosophy of freedom or agency out of lack, absence and nothingness. Similarly, although Sartre's claim that human reality 'is by nature an unhappy consciousness with no possibility of surpassing its unhappy state' (p. 9 0 ) is the pessimistic opposite of Feuerbach, it is no less self-affirming for that. A t the end of the main text of Being and Nothingness

Sartre apparently alludes to Feuerbach when he says,

'man loses himself as man i n order that G o d may be b o r n ' , and adds, 'but G o d is contradictory and we lose ourselves i n vain. M a n is a useless passion' (p. 6 1 5 ) . Freer and more heroic in his uselessness

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than i n pseudo-divinity, Sartrean man n o w takes into himself the contradiction which was the fiction of G o d and grounds his freedom in it. Being-for-itself is characterized by nothingness. A n d yet out of nothingness - no-thingness - true freedom is born; not to be essentially anything is to be free to choose. In a sense we are always what we are not yet; we can always conceive of being other than that we are. But freedom cannot embrace death. Despite taking so much from modern philosophers of death like Heidegger and Kojève, Sartre finally has to eliminate death from the finitude of being. H e takes Heideggerian nothingness into self, making it the basis of freedom, but he also privileges selfhood in a way which Heidegger emphatically did not, and resists Heidegger's embrace of death. Sartre knows that to take death so profoundly into being, as did Heidegger and Kojève, threatens the entire project of human freedom as praxis, which is the most important aspect of Sartre's existentialism. Certainly, for Heidegger, authenticity did not entail praxis, and i n his 'Letter on H u m a n i s m ' he actually repudiated Sartre's attempt to derive from his w o r k a philosophical rationale for existential engagement; so far as Heidegger was concerned, such engagement was only another version of inauthentic 'social' existence, a social evasion of the truth of Being. But was Heidegger's o w n truth of Being ever more than a state of authenticity whose main objective is obsessively to k n o w or insist on itself as authentic? For all his talk of freedom, there remains i n Heidegger a sense i n which authenticity remains a petrified sense of self, paralysed by the very effort of concentrating on the profundity of Being, which always seems to be also a condition of mystical impossibility: 'Death is the possibility of the absolute impossibility of Dasein' [Being and Time, p. 2 9 4 ) . N o t so for Sartre. H e recognizes the modern project whereby death is 'interiorized . . . humanized [and] individualized', and that Heidegger gave philosophical form to this process. O n the face of it, this is an attractive development, since death as apparent limit on our freedom is reconceptualized as a support of freedom [Being and Nothingness,

pp.

532-3).

But, against Heidegger, Sartre argues that

death, far from being the profound source of being and existential authenticity, is just a contingent fact like birth, and this, far from being a limit, is what guarantees one's freedom. Heidegger's entire 168

HEIDEGGER,

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a c c o u n t o f d e a t h rests o n a n e r r o n e o u s c o n f l a t i o n o f d e a t h a n d finitude

finitude;

is e s s e n t i a l l y i n t e r n a l t o l i f e a n d the g r o u n d s o f o u r f r e e d o m

- 'the v e r y act o f f r e e d o m is t h e r e f o r e the a s s u m p t i o n a n d c r e a t i o n of

finitude.

If I m a k e m y s e l f , I m a k e m y s e l f finite a n d h e n c e m y l i f e

is u n i q u e ' - w h e r e a s d e a t h is s i m p l y a n e x t e r n a l a n d f a c t u a l l i m i t o f my

s u b j e c t i v i t y (pp. 546—7). Q u i t e s i m p l y , 'It is a b s u r d t h a t w e are

b o r n ; it is a b s u r d t h a t w e d i e ' (p. 547). T h i s p e r h a p s entails a fear o f d e a t h , since ' t o be d e a d is t o be a p r e y f o r the l i v i n g ' : o n e is n o l o n g e r i n c h a r g e o f o n e ' s o w n l i f e ; it is n o w i n the h a n d s o f o t h e r s , o f the l i v i n g (p. 543). It is t r u e t h a t d e a t h h a u n t s m e at the v e r y h e a r t o f e a c h o f m y h u m a n p r o j e c t s , as t h e i r i n e v i t a b l e reverse s i d e . B u t t h i s reverse side o f d e a t h is just the e n d o f m y p o s s i b i l i t i e s a n d , as s u c h , ' i t does n o t p e n e t r a t e m e . T h e f r e e d o m w h i c h is m y f r e e d o m and

remains total

i n f i n i t e . . . Since d e a t h is a l w a y s b e y o n d m y s u b j e c t i v i t y , there is

n o p l a c e f o r it i n m y s u b j e c t i v i t y ' (pp. 5 4 7 - 8 ) . S a r t r e ' s s i g n i f i c a n c e lies i n h i s u n c o m p r o m i s i n g e m p h a s i s o n h u m a n f r e e d o m a n d r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . F o r a w h i l e , i n the p o s t w a r p e r i o d , h i s i n f l u e n c e w a s c o n s i d e r a b l e a n d w o r l d w i d e . Y e t he w a s e c l i p s e d s u r p r i s i n g l y q u i c k l y , e v e n b y the s t a n d a r d s o f i n t e l l e c t u a l f a s h i o n . A n d o n e o f the m a i n reasons w a s the a n t i - h u m a n i s m o f s u b s e q u e n t t h i n k e r s l i k e M i c h e l F o u c a u l t - i n p a r t i c u l a r t h e i r w i s h t o r a d i c a l l y decentre man

a n d the i n d i v i d u a l (a m o v e w h i c h w a s m o r e i n d e b t e d t o H e i d e g g e r

t h a n is s o m e t i m e s r e a l i z e d ) . I n o r d e r t o a f f i r m h u m a n f r e e d o m a n d r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , Sartre k n e w he h a d t o b r e a k w i t h t h a t l i n e o f t h o u g h t w h i c h t r i e d t o d r i v e d e a t h so relentlessly i n t o the h e a r t o f b e i n g a n d c o n s c i o u s n e s s ; he k n e w h o w i n i m i c a l w a s the p h i l o s o p h y o f d e a t h t o the p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s . B u t d i d he succeed i n m a k i n g t h a t b r e a k ? Not

a c c o r d i n g t o those w h o argue t h a t his p h i l o s o p h y relentlessly

i n c o r p o r a t e s n o t h i n g n e s s , l a c k a n d i m p o s s i b i l i t y w i t h i n the self a n d m a k e s desire a l w a y s a n u n c e a s i n g - i m p o s s i b l e ? - quest f o r a k i n d o f b e i n g t h a t it c a n n o t h a v e . T h e r e s u l t , says J a m e s C a r s e , is t h a t S a r t r e ' s p h i l o s o p h y p o s i t s h u m a n c o n s c i o u s n e s s as ' a n u n r e l i e v e d

lust

after

d e a t h ' (p. 372; m y e m p h a s i s ) . I b e l i e v e r a t h e r t h a t the v e r y c o n t r a d i c t i o n w h i c h Sartre i n s c r i b e s into conscious being involves a simultaneous embrace and exclusion o f d e a t h . E x i s t e n t i a l f r e e d o m is s t r e t c h e d across t h i s c o n t r a d i c t i o n , whose tension became more enabling than not. A s Cohen-Solal's 169

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e n g a g i n g b i o g r a p h y o f S a r t r e d e m o n s t r a t e s , his w a s a life o f u n c e a s i n g c o m m i t m e n t t o i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d p o l i t i c a l p r a x i s , e s p e c i a l l y at the t i m e w h e n he b e c a m e a n e x i s t e n t i a l M a r x i s t . H e i d e g g e r w a s c e r t a i n l y f o r a w h i l e , a n d p e r h a p s f o r l o n g e r , a N a z i . M u c h has been w r i t t e n a b o u t the latter's p o l i t i c a l i d e n t i f i c a t i o n s . A s w e s h a l l see, H e r b e r t M a r c u s e o n c e suggested there w a s a l i n k b e t w e e n H e i d e g g e r ' s p h i l o s o p h i c a l p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h a n d the N a z i d e a t h c a m p s . O t h e r s are m o r e c a u t i o u s , a s k i n g w h e t h e r i n H e i d e g g e r ' s a n t i - h u m a n i s m there is a n i n - h u m a n i s m , a n d i n his e m b r a c e o f n o t h i n g n e s s a n d d e a t h a n i h i l i s m , w h i c h connects w i t h , if not prepares f o r , N a z i s m . George

Steiner,

r e m i n d i n g us t h a t w e s t i l l disagree o v e r the p o l i t i c s a n d the i m p a c t o n p o l i t i c s o f w r i t e r s l i k e M a c h i e v e l l i a n d R o u s s e a u , is surely r i g h t i n s a y i n g t h a t there are n o easy a n s w e r s to these q u e s t i o n s (p. x x v ) .

9

B u t o n e t h i n g seems c e r t a i n : the r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t p o l i t i c a l t r a j e c t o r i e s o f Sartre a n d H e i d e g g e r are i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m t h e i r d i f f e r e n t p h i l o sophies o f d e a t h ; S a r t r e c o u l d n o t h a v e so r a d i c a l l y e m b r a c e d p r a x i s h a d he n o t d e v i a t e d f r o m H e i d e g g e r ' s p r i v i l e g i n g o f d e a t h . S o c i a l p r a x i s entails a r e p u d i a t i o n o f a W e s t e r n m e t a p h y s i c s o f d e a t h o f w h i c h H e i d e g g e r ' s w o r k is a p o w e r f u l m u t a t i o n . T w o years b e f o r e he d i e d , S a r t r e r e i t e r a t e d b i o g r a p h i c a l l y this r e p u d i a t i o n o f the p h i l osophy of death: Death? I don't think about it. It has no place i n my life, it w i l l always be outside. One day my life w i l l end but I don't want it to be burdened w i t h death. I want that my death never enter my life, nor define it, that I be always a call to life, (cited i n Cohen-Solal, p. 524)

170

V THE DESIRE NOT TO LATE AND

BE:

METAPHYSICS

PSYCHOANALYSIS

13 Dying as the Real Aim of Life: Schopenhauer

A n outcry has been made about the melancholy and disconsolate nature of my philosophy.

(Schopenhauer, W o r l d ,

II.580-81)

S c h o p e n h a u e r begins as f o l l o w s a c h a p t e r e n t i t l e d ' O n the V a n i t y a n d Suffering of Life': A w a k e n e d to life out of the night of unconsciousness, the w i l l finds itself as an individual i n an endless and boundless w o r l d , among innumerable individuals, all striving, suffering, and erring; and, as if through a troubled dream, it hurries back to the o l d unconsciousness. (II.573) If t h i s a n t i c i p a t e s F r e u d , it is a l s o t r u e t h a t S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s p h i l o s o p h y represents a c o m p e l l i n g s u m m a t i o n o f p r e v i o u s w r i t i n g a b o u t m u t a b i l i t y , loss a n d the f u t i l i t y o f desire, a n d the c o n v i c t i o n t h a t u l t i m a t e f r e e d o m lies i n d e a t h , a n d , b e f o r e t h a t , p a r t i a l f r e e d o m i n t h o s e states of being w h i c h abolish selfhood. F o r Schopenhauer,

the w i l l t o life is the m e t a p h y s i c a l o r i g i n o f

the u n i v e r s e , the m o s t b a s i c ' b l i n d ' f o r c e o r d r i v e , r e s p o n s i b l e f o r e v e r y t h i n g t h a t l i v e s . B u t , m a r k e d b y i n n e r c o n t r a d i c t i o n , it is a l s o the ' o r i g i n a l d i s c o r d ' (1.333). M a n i f e s t e d as desire, the w i l l t o life is m a r k e d by w a n t and lack: ' A l l w i l l i n g

springs f r o m lack,

from

d e f i c i e n c y , a n d t h u s f r o m s u f f e r i n g ' (1.196). D e s i r e is a c o n d i t i o n o f c o n t i n u a l , restless, l o n g i n g itself

' a s t r i v i n g t h a t is b o u n d t o

frustrate

(II.574). T h i s is the r e a s o n w h y the w i l l strives to r e t u r n t o

'the n i g h t o f u n c o n s c i o u s n e s s ' all-sufficient

w h e r e i n is f o u n d ' t h e p e a c e o f t h e

n o t h i n g ' . U n t i l then

173

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its desires are unlimited, its claims inexhaustible, and every satisfied desire gives birth to a new one. N o possible satisfaction in the w o r l d could suffice to still its craving, set a final goal to its demands, and fill the bottomless pit of its heart. (II.580, 573; my emphasis; cf. 1.308-9) T h e i n d i v i d u a l w h o w i l l s a n d desires 'is c o n s t a n t l y l y i n g o n the r e v o l v i n g w h e e l o f I x i o n , is a l w a y s d r a w i n g w a t e r i n the sieve o f the D a n a i d s , a n d is the e t e r n a l l y t h i r s t i n g T a n t a l u s ' (1.196). A g a i n , the f u n d a m e n t a l c o n d i t i o n o f s u f f e r i n g existence is m u t a b i l i t y - ' T i m e a n d the p e r i s h a b i l i t y o f a l l t h i n g s e x i s t i n g i n t i m e ' . W e l i v e o n l y i n the ' f l e e t i n g p r e s e n t ' a n d i n a state o f ' c o n t i n u a l b e c o m i n g w i t h o u t b e i n g ' . T h e f o r m o f existence is 'essentially u n c e a s i n g m o t i o n , w i t h o u t a n y p o s s i b i l i t y o f that repose w h i c h w e c o n t i n u a l l y strive after. It resembles the c o u r s e o f a m a n r u n n i n g d o w n a m o u n t a i n w h o w o u l d f a l l o v e r i f he t r i e d to s t o p a n d c a n stay o n his feet o n l y b y r u n n i n g o n . ' A n d m u t a b i l i t y reaches i n t o the v e r y heart o f desire: ' w e b e g i n i n the m a d n e s s o f c a r n a l desire a n d the t r a n s p o r t o f v o l u p t u o u s ness, w e e n d i n the d i s s o l u t i o n o f a l l o u r p a r t s a n d the m u s t y stench o f c o r p s e s ' ( E s s a y s a n d A p h o r i s m s , p p . 5 - 4 ; m y emphases). I

T h i s w i l l - t o - l i v e is the s o u r c e o f a l l s u f f e r i n g , b u t e s p e c i a l l y the sufferings of sexual passion, w h i c h 'brings into consciousness unrest, uneasiness, a n d m e l a n c h o l y , a n d i n t o the c o u r s e o f life m i s f o r t u n e s , cares a n d m i s e r y ' ( W o r l d , II.568); this s e x u a l desire is 'the k e r n e l o f the w i l l - t o - l i v e , a n d c o n s e q u e n t l y the c o n c e n t r a t i o n o f a l l w i l l i n g . . . t h e r e f o r e I h a v e c a l l e d the genitals the f o c u s o f the w i l l ' (II.514). T h e s e x u a l d r i v e is the m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f the species; its f o r c e so exceeds and

c o n s u m e s us that w e c a n find n o a d e q u a t e e x p r e s s i o n f o r i t . W h i l e

the v e h i c l e o f the s e x u a l d r i v e , the i n d i v i d u a l is r a c k e d w i t h p a i n f u l y e a r n i n g ; after release f r o m i t , ' c o n t r a r y t o e x p e c t a t i o n , he

finds

h i m s e l f n o h a p p i e r t h a n b e f o r e ' (II.551, 557). C o m p a r e W . B . Y e a t s : Eternity is passion, girl or boy Cry

at the onset of their sexual joy

Tor

ever and for ever'; then awake

Ignorant what Dramatis Personae spake ('Supernatural Songs', VIII) S a t i s f a c t i o n , i f it is a c h i e v e d at a l l , is

174

fleeting,

a n d b e c o m e s the

D Y I N G AS T H E R E A L A I M O F L I F E :

SCHOPENHAUER

g r o u n d f o r n e w d e s i r e ; f o r every w i s h t h a t is s a t i s f i e d , there arise t e n t h a t are n o t . B u t s a t i s f a c t i o n is a l s o fleeting a n d i l l u s o r y f o r the f u r t h e r r e a s o n t h a t , i n a c h i e v i n g the t h i n g s d e s i r e d , w e d i s c o v e r h o w l i t t l e w o r t h d e s i r i n g they a c t u a l l y w e r e . S a t i s f a c t i o n is a l s o e l u s i v e since it a l w a y s lies i n the f u t u r e o r the p a s t , never the p r e s e n t ; yet the past is i r r e v o c a b l e , a n d the f u t u r e is u n c e r t a i n ( W o r l d , I I . 5 7 3 - 4 ) . D i s s a t i s f a c t i o n leads t o p a i n a n d s u f f e r i n g , s a t i s f a c t i o n t o ' a f e a r f u l e m p t i n e s s a n d b o r e d o m ' ; indeed 'life swings . . . to a n d fro between p a i n a n d b o r e d o m , a n d these t w o are i n f a c t its u l t i m a t e c o n s t i t u e n t s ' (1.312). F u r t h e r , s a t i s f a c t i o n p a r t a k e s o f the n e g a t i v e , d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n o f the p o s i t i v e . W h a t S c h o p e n h a u e r m e a n s b y t h i s is t h a t w e feel p a i n , b u t n o t p a i n l e s s n e s s ; w e feel care, n o t carefreeness. S i m i l a r l y w e b e c o m e c o n s c i o u s o f t i m e w h e n w e are b o r e d , n o t w h e n w e are i n v o l v e d . F u r t h e r , ' w e d o n o t b e c o m e c o n s c i o u s o f the three greatest blessings o f l i f e as s u c h , n a m e l y h e a l t h , y o u t h , a n d f r e e d o m , as l o n g as w e possess t h e m , b u t o n l y after w e h a v e l o s t t h e m ' . O u r r e a l existence 'is o n l y i n the p r e s e n t , w h o s e u n i m p e d e d flight i n t o the p a s t is a constant transition into death, a constant d y i n g ' (I.3II). S c h o p e n h a u e r c o n c l u d e s : ' o u r existence is h a p p i e s t w h e n w e p e r ceive it least; f r o m t h i s it f o l l o w s t h a t it w o u l d be better n o t t o h a v e i t ' (II.575). E x i s t e n c e itself is s o m e t h i n g w h i c h s h o u l d n o t be, w h i c h it w o u l d h a v e b e e n better n o t t o h a v e h a p p e n e d ; it is a p u n i s h m e n t a n d a n e x p i a t i o n - ' a p e r v e r s i t y , a p a t h o f e r r o r ' , 'the c o n s e q u e n c e o f a false step a n d a g u i l t y d e s i r e ' . I n t h i s c o n n e c t i o n the m y t h o f the F a l l is the o n l y p o i n t i n the O l d T e s t a m e n t t o w h i c h

Schopenhauer

ascribes m e t a p h y s i c a l t r u t h , a n d even t h e n o n l y i n a n a l l e g o r i c a l f o r m . T h e g u i l t o f w h i c h he speaks arises s i m p l y o u t o f existence itself, n o t f r o m the s i n o f A d a m a n d E v e (II.574, 580, 604). S u f f e r i n g is the t r u e d e s t i n y o f h u m a n e x i s t e n c e , a p u r i f y i n g e x p e r i e n c e w h i c h leads us b a c k f r o m a n e r r o n e o u s , e x h a u s t i n g w i l l - t o - l i v e (II.636). W e m u s t l e a r n t o r e n o u n c e the w i l l - t o - l i v e a n d t o revere d e a t h ( t h o u g h s u i c i d e is n o t c o n d o n e d ) .

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R e n u n c i a t i o n and t h e n e g a t i o n o f t h e s e l f It is n o t the w i l l as s u c h w h i c h p r o d u c e s s u f f e r i n g , b u t awareness

of

it. In itself the w i l l is b l i n d a n d w i t h o u t k n o w l e d g e . It is the i n n e r essence o f b e i n g , a n d its s t r i v i n g f o r existence is a l w a y s satisfied. M o r e p r e c i s e l y , the w i l l c a n never be satisfied g i v e n that it is endless; yet it also c a n n o t k n o w d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n . T h e w i l l finds e x p r e s s i o n i n - i n fact a c t u a l l y p r o d u c e s - c o n s c i o u s n e s s a n d k n o w l e d g e , b u t r e m a i n s i n c o n f l i c t w i t h b o t h (II.466, 498). T h e m o r e c o n s c i o u s a n d i n t e l l i g e n t the b e i n g , the greater the s u f f e r i n g . W h i c h m e a n s , o f c o u r s e ,

that

h u m a n s suffer the m o s t ( I . 3 0 9 - I 0 ) . In its l o w e r a n d m o s t c o m m o n f o r m the w i l l p r o d u c e s o n l y the fear o f d e a t h . T h i s is because k n o w l e d g e is a n effect o f the w i l l , a n d r e m a i n s t h r o u g h o u t a l m o s t e n t i r e l y s u b o r d i n a t e to i t . H o w e v e r , there are c r u c i a l e x c e p t i o n s : s o m e t i m e s , especially i n the h u m a n g e n i u s , k n o w l e d g e c a n separate itself f r o m the w i l l , a n d this p r o d u c e s the p e r s p e c t i v e o f art and/or o f r e s i g n a t i o n . B u t at a p r i c e : f o r this aesthetic v i e w to emerge, i n d i v i d u a l i t y has to be a b o l i s h e d , since i n d i v i d u a t i o n (the p r i n c i p i u m i n d i v i d u a t i o n i s )

is itself a n effect o f the w i l l . M o r e

e x a c t l y , the p e r s o n i n v o l v e d i n aesthetic p e r c e p t i o n is n o l o n g e r a n i n d i v i d u a l , f o r i n s u c h p e r c e p t i o n the i n d i v i d u a l has necessarily b e c o m e l o s t t o h i m s e l f ; he has b e c o m e a ' p u r e timeless s u b j e c t o f k n o w l e d g e '

to

will-less, painless,

(I.I79), a n d o n l y i n that state c a n be

e x p e r i e n c e d that 'peace, a l w a y s s o u g h t b u t a l w a y s e s c a p i n g us o n that first p a t h o f w i l l i n g ' (1.196). So the cost o f this aesthetic a t t i t u d e is a f o r m o f the d e a t h o f the self a n d a n erasure o f the s o c i a l : 'It is t h e n a l l the s a m e w h e t h e r w e see the s e t t i n g s u n f r o m a p r i s o n o r f r o m a p a l a c e . . . a l l d i f f e r e n c e o f i n d i v i d u a l i t y d i s a p p e a r s so c o m p l e t e l y that it is a l l the s a m e w h e t h e r the p e r c e i v i n g eye belongs t o a m i g h t y m o n a r c h o r a s t r i c k e n b e g g a r ' ( 1 . 1 9 6 - 8 ) . W e have b e c o m e 'the eternal w o r l d - e y e ' that l o o k s o u t o f a l l creatures (II.371). H e r e S c h o p e n h a u e r c o m e s close to m y s t i c i s m . In fact he declares that q u i e t i s m , a s c e t i c i s m a n d m y s t i c i s m s t a n d i n the closest c o n n e c t i o n (II.613); i n t h e m the d e s i r i n g self has been a b o l i s h e d i n f a v o u r o f k n o w l e d g e . W h e n the w i l l has been I76

finally

and completely extin-

D Y I N G AS T H E R E A L A I M O F L I F E :

SCHOPENHAUER

g u i s h e d , the i n d i v i d u a l is ' t h e n left o n l y as p u r e k n o w i n g b e i n g , as the u n d i m m e d m i r r o r o f the w o r l d ' (1.390). K n o w l e d g e i n its e x a l t e d f o r m is o n the side o f d e a t h ( I I . 4 6 6 ) a n d m a k e s the subject w a n t t o die. It is a l s o i n a m y s t i c a l sense t h a t f o r S c h o p e n h a u e r o u r t r u e n a t u r e r e m a i n s i n d e s t r u c t i b l e a n d the i n d i v i d u a l carries i n h i m s e l f a ' c o m p l e t e c o m p e n s a t i o n ' f o r the loss o f i n d i v i d u a l i t y i n d e a t h . H e identifies o u r t r u e n a t u r e w i t h 'the species i n w h i c h [the i n d i v i d u a l ' s ] t r u e b e i n g objectifies i t s e l f (II.491; cf. II.510). G r a f t i n g P l a t o n i s m o n t o b i o l o g y , S c h o p e n h a u e r insists t h a t i n the a n i m a l 'the e t e r n i t y o f its Idea (species) is d i s t i n c t l y m a r k e d i n the finiteness o f the i n d i v i d u a l ' . T h e i m p e r i s h a b l e t r u e b e i n g , the ' u n i v e r s a l h u m a n e l e m e n t ' , is a l s o l i t e r a l l y t o be f o u n d i n the d u s t t o w h i c h w e are r e d u c e d a n d f r o m w h i c h n e w l i f e s p r i n g s (II.482, 4 9 1 , 472). M o s t i m p o r t a n t l y , o u r essential n a t u r e is t o be f o u n d i n the w i l l . H i t h e r t o , says S c h o p e n h a u e r , a l l p h i l o s o p h e r s h a v e m a d e the m i s t a k e o f l o c a t i n g i n the i n t e l l e c t w h a t is m e t a p h y s i c a l a n d i n d e s t r u c t i b l e i n m a n , w h e r e a s i n f a c t it inheres o n l y a n d a b s o l u t e l y i n the w i l l . Intellect, c o n s c i o u s n e s s a n d ego are t r a n s i e n t ; o n l y the w i l l e n d u r e s . B u t c a n w e ever r e a l l y k n o w the w i l l , t h i s essence o f o u r t r u e n a t u r e ? N o : its nature

finally

eludes us — ' w h a t it is a b s o l u t e l y i n itself, r e m a i n s

u n a n s w e r a b l e ' (II.496; cf. II.474). W e l i v e i n the w o r l d o f r e p r e s e n t a t i o n , w h i c h is ' a b s o l u t e l y i n c o m m e n s u r a b l e ' w i t h the w o r l d

of

the w i l l . O u r t r u e n a t u r e , t h o u g h i n d e s t r u c t i b l e , is yet w i t h o u t t h a t c o n t i n u i t y w h i c h is t i m e - b o u n d ; f o r S c h o p e n h a u e r ( f o l l o w i n g K a n t ) , t r u e b e i n g , l i k e the w i l l f r o m w h i c h it d e r i v e s , is u n t o u c h e d b y t i m e (II.484). I n f a c t t i m e has n o a b s o l u t e existence b u t is m e r e l y a c a t e g o r y o f c o n s c i o u s n e s s necessary f o r p e r c e p t i o n . T h i s is w h y o u r t r u e n a t u r e is f o u n d e d i n a ' c o n c e p t o f a n i n d e s t r u c t i b i l i t y t h a t w a s nevertheless n o t a c o n t i n u a n c e ' (II.494).

The For

Schopenhauer,

w o n d e r f u l release

of

death

w e w e l c o m e d e a t h o n l y after

overcoming a

p o w e r f u l a n d i r r a t i o n a l desire t o l i v e . E v e n b e f o r e r e a c h i n g t h i s stage, the desire f o r d e a t h is s t r o n g ; d e a t h is a n t i c i p a t e d as a ' w o n d e r f u l release', a state o f z e r o t e n s i o n a n d o b l i v i o n w h i c h is a l s o the

I77

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

a n n i h i l a t i o n o f s e l f h o o d . I n this sense d e a t h is a n e x t e n s i o n o f e x a l t e d knowledge: death is the great opportunity no longer to be I; to h i m . . . w h o embraces it . . . D y i n g is the moment of that liberation f r o m the one-sidedness of an individuality w h i c h does not constitute the innermost kernel of our true being, but is rather to be thought of as a k i n d of aberration thereof. (II.469, 507-8) E l s e w h e r e S c h o p e n h a u e r describes 'the I o r e g o ' as 'the d a r k p o i n t i n c o n s c i o u s n e s s ' , the b l i n d s p o t o f the self (II.491). B u t the desire f o r d e a t h is b o r n o f the r a t i o n a l a p p r e h e n s i o n o f the p e r i s h a b l e n e s s

of

t h i n g s i n s i d e the a p r i o r i necessary f o r m o f t i m e , a n d o f the r e a l i z a t i o n that ascetic r e n u n c i a t i o n is the o n l y k i n d o f f r e e d o m f r o m t h i s : ' t o die

w i l l i n g l y . . . is the p r e r o g a t i v e o f the r e s i g n e d , o f h i m w h o gives

up a n d denies the w i l l - t o - l i v e ' . I n d e a t h there is f o u n d 'the t r u e o r i g i n a l f r e e d o m ' c o n s e q u e n t u p o n a ' r e s t i t u t i o i n i n t e g r u m [ r e s t o r a t i o n t o the f o r m e r state]' (II.508). T h e a n n i h i l a t i o n a f f o r d e d b y d e a t h is w e l c o m e d n o t o n l y as a release f r o m l i f e , b u t because ' D y i n g i s c e r t a i n l y t o b e r e g a r d e d a s t h e r e a l a i m o f l i f e ; a t the m o m e n t o f d y i n g , e v e r y t h i n g is d e c i d e d w h i c h t h r o u g h the w h o l e c o u r s e o f life w a s o n l y p r e p a r e d a n d i n t r o d u c e d . ' In this m o m e n t is the s u p r e m e r e a l i z a t i o n o f life's l e s s o n , n a m e l y t h a t life is f u t i l e a n d c o n t r a d i c t o r y . T h e t r u t h o f life b e c o m e s r e a l i z e d i n our

p e r i s h i n g i n d i v i d u a l i t y . T h e r e b y the w i l l to life is d e n i e d , subjected

t o e u t h a n a s i a ( I I . 6 3 4 - 3 9 ; m y e m p h a s i s ) . T h e d e a t h o f the self is t o t a l , and

w h a t w e get i n e x c h a n g e is ' a b s o l u t e a n n i h i l a t i o n ' (II.471) o r

' n o t h i n g ' ' — w h a t ' T h e B u d d h i s t f a i t h calls . . . N i r v a n a , that is t o say, e x t i n c t i o n ' (II.508).

1

P h i l o s o p h i c a l l y s p e a k i n g , f o r S c h o p e n h a u e r the a c c e p t a n c e o f d e a t h is a r a t i o n a l , ascetic act o f r e n u n c i a t i o n r a t h e r t h a n a deep i n s t i n c t u a l r e g r e s s i o n , as f o r F r e u d (see b e l o w , C h a p t e r 14). I n t h i s , as i n o t h e r respects, S c h o p e n h a u e r is the s u m m a t i o n o f w h a t w e n t b e f o r e . B u t the w a y i n w h i c h he w r i t e s a b o u t the d e a t h - w i s h suggests at the v e r y least a s t r o n g d e s i r e f o r n o n - b e i n g w h i c h is a l s o the i n s t i n c t u a l g r o u n d o f b e i n g . P e r h a p s he m o s t c l o s e l y a n t i c i p a t e s F r e u d i n h i s v i e w o f existence as a n a b e r r a t i o n :

178

DYING

AS T H E R E A L A I M O F L I F E :

SCHOPENHAUER

T o desire immortality for the individual is really the same as wanting to perpetuate an error for ever; for at bottom every individuality is really only a special error, a false step, something that it w o u l d be better should not be, i n fact something f r o m w h i c h it is the real purpose of life to bring us back. (II.491-2) Death is . . . the painful untying of the knot that generation w i t h sensual pleasure had tied; it is the violent destruction, bursting i n from outside, of the fundamental error of our true nature, the great disillusionment. A t b o t t o m , we are something that ought not to be; therefore we cease to be. (II.507)

179

4

I

Freud: Life as a Detour to Death

F r e u d ' s ' O n T r a n s i e n c e ' , w r i t t e n a n d p u b l i s h e d d u r i n g the F i r s t W o r l d War,

describes a s u m m e r w a l k , just before the w a r , o n w h i c h F r e u d

was accompanied by 'a taciturn friend and . . . a y o u n g but already famous poet'. T h i s poet was afflicted w i t h an 'aching despondency' at life's m u t a b i l i t y : e v e r y t h i n g seemed b e y o n d e n j o y m e n t because o n the edge o f o b l i v i o n . T h a t the b e a u t y a r o u n d h i m , ' l i k e a l l h u m a n b e a u t y , a n d a l l the b e a u t y a n d s p l e n d o u r that m e n h a v e c r e a t e d o r m a y c r e a t e ' , w a s f a t e d to e x t i n c t i o n m e a n t that it b e c a m e ' s h o r n o f its w o r t h b y the t r a n s i e n c e w h i c h w a s its d o o m ' (p. 287). T h i s e n c o u n t e r a p p a r e n t l y p r e c e d e d , a n d i n f l u e n c e d , the w r i t i n g o f F r e u d ' s ' M o u r n i n g a n d M e l a n c h o l i a ' ; o f the p o e t ' s p o w e r f u l e m o t i o n a l d i s t u r b a n c e F r e u d r e m a r k s , 'I b e l i e v e d later that I h a d d i s c o v e r e d w h a t it w a s , ' a n d p r o c e e d s to o u t l i n e his thesis o n the n a t u r e

of

m o u r n i n g (pp. 2 8 8 - 9 ) . It is a t h e o r y w h i c h m a r k s a yet f u r t h e r , a n d g r e a t l y i n f l u e n t i a l , e l a b o r a t i o n o f the i n t e r n a l i z a t i o n o f m u t a b i l i t y . W i t h i n p s y c h o a n a l y sis, the n a r r a t i v e o f h u m a n desire r i v e n by loss is u n f o l d e d i n a dramatically expanded d o m a i n of h u m a n interiority. Eventually Freud a r r i v e s at his t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e , w h i c h d r a w s e x t e n s i v e l y o n the l o n g t r a d i t i o n w e h a v e been e x a m i n i n g . In p r e v i o u s c h a p t e r s I d r e w a t t e n t i o n to ideas w h i c h a n t i c i p a t e F r e u d ' s . W h a t these a l s o m e a n , o f c o u r s e , is that F r e u d b o r r o w e d e x t e n s i v e l y f r o m the p a s t . But,

as w e s h a l l see s h o r t l y , he e v o l v e d a n e w l a n g u a g e - a l m o s t a

n e w m y t h o l o g y - t o express the c o n v i c t i o n that d e a t h is a b s o l u t e l y i n t e r i o r to l i f e . F r e u d c o u n t e r s the p o e t ' s d e s p o n d e n c y w i t h a n a t t i t u d e o f c a r p e d i e m . T r a n s i e n c e does n o t d i m i n i s h the v a l u e o f l i f e ; o n the c o n t r a r y I80

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O D E A T H

it e n h a n c e s i t : ' T r a n s i e n c e v a l u e is s c a r c i t y v a l u e i n t i m e . L i m i t a t i o n i n the p o s s i b i l i t y o f a n e n j o y m e n t raises the v a l u e s o f the e n j o y m e n t . ' F r e u d a l s o i n v o k e s the o l d i d e a o f ' e t e r n e i n m u t a b i l i t i e ' : the s e a s o n a l c y c l e m e a n s t h a t ' i n r e l a t i o n t o the l e n g t h o f o u r lives [the b e a u t y o f nature] c a n i n f a c t be r e g a r d e d as e t e r n a l ' . If t h i s is o p t i m i s t i c , i n o t h e r encouragements

t o the p o e t he a d o p t s the f a c i l e tones o f the s o b e r

r a t i o n a l i s t , i d e n t i f y i n g e x a c t l y w h a t is a g o n i z i n g a b o u t m u t a b i l i t y i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e — 'the b e a u t y o f the h u m a n f o r m a n d face v a n i s h f o r e v e r ' - o n l y t o a d d , l a m e l y , ' b u t t h e i r evanescence o n l y lends t h e m a f r e s h c h a r m ' . H e c o n t i n u e s , ' N o r c a n I u n d e r s t a n d a n y better w h y the b e a u t y a n d p e r f e c t i o n o f a w o r k o f art o r o f a n i n t e l l e c t u a l a c h i e v e m e n t s h o u l d lose its w o r t h because o f its t e m p o r a l l i m i t a t i o n . ' A t i m e m a y i n d e e d c o m e , he says, w h e n w h a t w e a d m i r e t o d a y w i l l c r u m b l e t o d u s t , w h e n o u r c u l t u r e w i l l be i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e t o s u c c e e d i n g ones, w h e n a n e p o c h a r r i v e s i n w h i c h a l l a n i m a t e life o n e a r t h ceases, ' b u t since the v a l u e o f a l l this b e a u t y a n d p e r f e c t i o n is d e t e r m i n e d o n l y b y its s i g n i f i c a n c e f o r o u r o w n e m o t i o n a l l i v e s , it has n o n e e d t o s u r v i v e u s ' (p. 2 8 8 ) . F r e u d ' s trite response t o the p o e t is e s p e c i a l l y s u r p r i s i n g g i v e n t h a t he is w r i t i n g d u r i n g a w a r w h i c h , o n h i s o w n a d m i s s i o n i n this v e r y a r t i c l e , s h a t t e r e d h u m a n p r i d e i n the a c h i e v e m e n t s

of civilization,

undermined h u m a n faith and h u m a n hope, and showed ' h o w epheme r a l w e r e m a n y t h i n g s t h a t w e r e g a r d e d as c h a n g e l e s s ' (p. 289). P e r h a p s h i s o p t i m i s m w a s m i s c h i e v o u s ; c e r t a i n l y it w a s n o t w i t h o u t i r o n y : 'I n o t i c e d t h a t I h a d m a d e n o i m p r e s s i o n either u p o n the p o e t o r u p o n m y f r i e n d ' (p. 2 8 8 ) . T h e p o e t ' s sense o f m u t a b i l i t y seems p o i g n a n t l y e n d o r s e d b y a m o r e l a s t i n g i r o n y i n t h a t w e d o n o t k n o w w h o he w a s ; a l t h o u g h b y t h e n a l r e a d y f a m o u s , a c c o r d i n g t o F r e u d , his i d e n t i t y has never been established. In h i s a c c o u n t o f the w a l k , F r e u d c o n c l u d e s t h a t h i s f r i e n d a n d the p o e t w e r e i n a state o f m o u r n i n g . H e t o u c h e s o n a t y p i c a l a t t i t u d e i n the m u t a b i l i t y t r a d i t i o n : ' t h o s e w h o . . . seem r e a d y t o m a k e a p e r m a n e n t r e n u n c i a t i o n b e c a u s e w h a t w a s p r e c i o u s has p r o v e d n o t t o be l a s t i n g , are s i m p l y i n a state o f m o u r n i n g f o r w h a t is l o s t ' (p. 290). M o u r n i n g is here d e s c r i b e d as the i n a b i l i t y o r r e f u s a l o f the l i b i d o t o d e t a c h itself f r o m the l o s t o b j e c t i n o r d e r t o a t t a c h itself t o n e w o n e s . A c t u a l l y it 1

is just as l i k e l y t h a t the p o e t w a s a l s o e x p e r i e n c i n g the m e l a n c h o l i a I8I

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

w h i c h F r e u d w a s later to c o n s i d e r as a m o r e severe a n d even p a t h o l o g i c a l response t o loss - o n e i n w h i c h l i b i d o is w i t h d r a w n i n t o the ego, w h e r e it serves to e s t a b l i s h a s o m e t i m e s s u i c i d a l i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h the lost o b j e c t , a n d w h e r e a t r a u m a t i c p e r c e p t i o n o f t r a n s i e n c e a n d 2

loss b e c o m e s i n t e r w o v e n w i t h the p a i n o f desire. T h e r e is m u c h i n F r e u d ' s t h e o r y w h i c h seems q u e s t i o n a b l e o r just i m p l a u s i b l e ; b u t w h a t is i n t r i g u i n g is the w a y i n w h i c h it c o n n e c t s the p e r c e p t i o n o f m u t a b i l i t y , the p a i n o f m e l a n c h o l i c desire r o o t e d i n l o s s , a n d the p u l l o f d e a t h - a c o n n e c t i o n w h i c h is, as w e h a v e seen, e n d e m i c i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e . E q u a l l y c o m p e l l i n g is his belief that i n m e l a n c h o l y there is n o t just a n e x p e r i e n c e o f l o s s , b u t a deep i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h w h a t is l o s t . T h e themes o f loss a n d l a c k p e r v a d e F r e u d ' s w o r k ; a n d , i f they figure

m o s t d r a m a t i c a l l y i n his t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e , they are

e q u a l l y i m p o r t a n t i n his t h e o r y o f h u m a n e r o t i c d e v e l o p m e n t . In fact, as w e s h a l l see, loss a n d l a c k p r o v i d e s o m e o f the c r u c i a l l i n k s b e t w e e n the t w o .

F r o m p o l y m o r p h o u s p e r v e r s i t y t o t h e death

drive

A c c o r d i n g t o F r e u d , a c h i l d ' s s e x u a l i t y o r i g i n a l l y e x h i b i t s a strange b l e n d o f s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y o n the o n e h a n d , m o b i l i t y a n d d i s p e r s i o n o n the o t h e r . I n o t h e r w o r d s a c h i l d ' s s e x u a l i t y is p o l y m o r p h o u s l y p e r verse, a n d , as s u c h , u n d i s c r i m i n a t i n g i n t e r m s o f object (e.g. m o t h e r o r f a t h e r , m a n o r w o m a n ) o r a i m (e.g. incest, h o m o s e x u a l i t y , c o p r o p h i l i a , h e t e r o s e x u a l i t y ) . A n d this is a c o n d i t i o n o f m o b i l i t y , i n w h i c h desire itself is d e f i n i t e l y n o t u n i f i e d , b u t o f d i s t i n c t a n d d i f f e r e n t k i n d s ; it entails ' a w i d e s p r e a d a n d c o p i o u s b u t d i s s o c i a t e d s e x u a l l i f e . . . i n w h i c h e a c h separate i n s t i n c t p u r s u e s its o w n a c q u i s i t i o n o f p l e a s u r e i n d e p e n d e n t l y o f a l l the rest' ( F i v e L e c t u r e s , p . 74). P o l y m o r p h o u s p e r v e r s i t y a n d the d i s s o c i a t i o n o f i n s t i n c t s e c h o p r i m a l o r E d e n i c i n n o c e n c e , w h i c h , r e t r o s p e c t i v e l y f o r the a d u l t , is b e y o n d r e a c h a n d even d i f f i c u l t t o c o n c e i v e . B u t this is a c h a l l e n g i n g , h i g h l y s e x u a l i n n o c e n c e w h i c h h e n c e f o r t h c a n never be s m o t h e r e d by o u r s e n t i m e n t a l categories o f c h i l d h o o d . A n d the c h a l l e n g e r e m a i n s even after a ' V i c t o r i a n ' o u t r a g e at the v e r y i d e a o f c h i l d r e n h a v i n g a s e x u a l i t y has I82

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O D E A T H

s u b s i d e d ; i n d e e d , p e r h a p s t h a t o u t r a g e w a s itself a d i s p l a c e m e n t o f a m o r e f u n d a m e n t a l a n x i e t y w h i c h persists: i n F r e u d ' s a c c o u n t the c h i l d c o n f r o n t s a d u l t s w i t h t h e i r o w n r e n u n c i a t i o n o f i n s t i n c t ; the c h i l d i s w h a t w e have lost. As

is w e l l k n o w n , f o r F r e u d the e v o l u t i o n , n o t t o say the v e r y

s u r v i v a l , o f c i v i l i z a t i o n d e p e n d s u p o n the c o n t a i n m e n t ,

restriction,

r e p r e s s i o n , s u b l i m a t i o n a n d c h a n n e l l i n g o f s e x u a l desire. T h e e a r l y efflorescence o f i n f a n t i l e s e x u a l i t y is d o o m e d to e x t i n c t i o n as w e b e c o m e c o n s t r a i n e d , o r g a n i z e d (fixed/fixated) as subjects i n the s o c i a l o r d e r , a l w a y s h a u n t e d b y the loss o f t h a t o r i g i n a l l i b i d i n a l f r e e d o m . Our

o r i g i n a l i n s t i n c t u a l energies r e m a i n f o r ever a l i e n a t e d i n o r d e r

t h a t c i v i l i z a t i o n m a y be, b u t t h o s e energies are never e n t i r e l y e l i m i n a t e d ; there r e m a i n s a n u n e n d i n g c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n the d e m a n d s o f the o r i g i n a l i n s t i n c t s a n d t h o s e o f c i v i l i z a t i o n . E v e n w h e n the processes o f r e p r e s s i o n are as s u c c e s s f u l as they c a n be, t h a t c o n f l i c t r e m a i n s at the h e a r t o f the h u m a n i n d i v i d u a l . In c e r t a i n respects the i n d i v i d u a l b e c o m e s a p e r m a n e n t c a s u a l t y o f t h a t s t r u g g l e . T o a greater o r lesser degree, w e are a l l r e p r e s s e d , n e u r o t i c a n d n a r c i s s i s t i c a l l y

scarred

( B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e , p . 291). T h i s u n r e m i t t i n g c l a s h b e t w e e n i n s t i n c t u a l desire a n d c i v i l i z a t i o n , b e t w e e n n a t u r e a n d c u l t u r e , leads F r e u d b a c k t o the o l d i d e a t h a t there is s o m e t h i n g a b o u t h u m a n desire w h i c h m a k e s its f u l f i l m e n t i m p o s s i b l e . H u m a n beings are g o v e r n e d b y a p l e a s u r e p r i n c i p l e w h i c h has o n e m a j o r p r o b l e m , n a m e l y t h a t ' a l l the r e g u l a t i o n s o f the u n i v e r s e run

c o u n t e r t o i t ' . W o r s e s t i l l , w e are i n t e r n a l l y c o n s t i t u t e d t o m a k e

the p l e a s u r e p r i n c i p l e d o u b l y i n c a p a b l e o f r e a l i z a t i o n . F o r e x a m p l e , w e d e r i v e o u r m o s t intense e n j o y m e n t o n l y f r o m a c o n t r a s t , l i k e the s u d d e n s a t i s f a c t i o n o f a n e e d l o n g d e n i e d . I n this a n d o t h e r w a y s , o u r p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r h a p p i n e s s are a l r e a d y r e s t r i c t e d b y o u r c o n s t i t u t i o n . I n d e e d , 'the p r o g r a m m e o f b e c o m i n g h a p p y , w h i c h the p l e a s u r e p r i n c i p l e i m p o s e s o n us, c a n n o t be f u l f i l l e d ' . B u t F r e u d a d d s , ' w e m u s t n o t — i n d e e d , w e c a n n o t — give u p o u r efforts t o b r i n g it nearer t o fulfilment' ( C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s , pp. 2 6 3 - 4 ,

2

7 )1

F r e u d lists eight w a y s b y w h i c h w e t y p i c a l l y t r y t o a v o i d o r m i n i m i z e the s u f f e r i n g w h i c h i n e v i t a b l y results. T h e seventh is l o v e - p o t e n t i a l l y the m o s t intense e x p e r i e n c e o f h a p p i n e s s , a n d so, a p p a r e n t l y ,

the

m o s t t r i u m p h a n t r e p u d i a t i o n o f life's i n h e r e n t s u f f e r i n g . E x c e p t t h a t 183

DEATH,

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

s u f f e r i n g is n o s o o n e r left b e h i n d t h a n it re-emerges f r o m w i t h i n l o v e itself as l o v e ' s v e r y c o n d i t i o n : ' w e are never so defenceless

against

s u f f e r i n g as w h e n w e l o v e , never so h e l p l e s s l y u n h a p p y as w h e n w e h a v e lost o u r l o v e d object o r its l o v e ' (p. 270). A n d it is i n the sphere o f s e x u a l i t y that desire b e c o m e s s o m e h o w s e l f - d e f e a t i n g . E i g h t e e n years e a r l i e r , i n 1912, F r e u d h a d d e c l a r e d , 'It is m y belief t h a t , h o w e v e r strange it m a y s o u n d , w e m u s t r e c k o n w i t h the p o s s i b i l i t y that s o m e t h i n g i n the n a t u r e o f the s e x u a l i n s t i n c t itself is u n f a v o u r able t o the r e a l i z a t i o n o f c o m p l e t e s a t i s f a c t i o n ' ( ' O n the U n i v e r s a l T e n d e n c y ' , p . 258). O n e r e a s o n is that s e x u a l l i b i d o intensifies i n r e l a t i o n t o the d i f f i c u l t y a n d obstacles w h i c h resist i t : 'the p s y c h i c a l i m p o r t a n c e o f a n i n s t i n c t rises i n p r o p o r t i o n to its f r u s t r a t i o n s ' . B u t f u l l y to o v e r c o m e the resistance w h i c h i m p e d e s desire is also t o defeat the p o s s i b i l i t y o f desire's s a t i s f a c t i o n : T h i s is true both of individuals and of nations. In times i n w h i c h there were no difficulties standing in the way of sexual satisfaction, such as perhaps during the decline of the ancient civilizations, love became worthless and life empty . . . (p. 257) T h e r e are o t h e r reasons w h y desire r e m a i n s i n c a p a b l e o f satisfact i o n , to d o s p e c i f i c a l l y w i t h the r e p r e s s i o n o f the s o - c a l l e d p e r v e r s i o n s . F r e u d c o n s i d e r s w h a t this m e a n s i n p r a c t i c e t h r o u g h a b r i e f a c c o u n t o f i n s t i n c t u a l d r i v e s t o w a r d s incest a n d c o p r o p h i l i a . In the case o f the first, a l l ' n o r m a l ' s e x u a l r e l a t i o n s are o n l y p o o r surrogates f o r the p r i m a r y , i n c e s t u o u s desire o f the c h i l d f o r its m o t h e r , w h o , i n her c a p a c i t y a s m o t h e r , b e c o m e s the c h i l d ' s first seducer, ' e s t a b l i s h e d u n a l t e r a b l y f o r a w h o l e l i f e t i m e as the first a n d strongest l o v e object a n d as the p r o t o t y p e o f a l l later l o v e - r e l a t i o n s - f o r b o t h sexes' ( O u t l i n e , p . I88). B u t this p r i m a r y desire has to be s u r r e n d e r e d , a n d ' n o r m a l ' desire - t h a t is, s o c i a l l y p r e s c r i b e d desire - is f o u n d e d o n this loss; as d e s i r i n g subjects i n the w o r l d , w e e m b a r k o n a restless a n d repetitive (because a l w a y s i n a d e q u a t e ) search f o r a s u b s t i t u t e : when the original object of a wishful impulse has been lost as a result of repression [in this instance, the incest taboo], it is frequently represented by an endless series of substitute objects none of w h i c h , however, brings full satisfaction. T h i s may explain the inconstancy in object-choice . . . w h i c h is so often a feature of the love of adults. ('On the Universal Tendency', p. 258) I84

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O

DEATH

F r e u d is q u i t e specific a b o u t t h i s . T h e breast is the c h i l d ' s first e r o t i c o b j e c t , f r o m w h i c h a l l t o o s o o n it has t o separate: ' f o r h o w e v e r l o n g [a c h i l d ] is f e d at its m o t h e r ' s breast, it w i l l a l w a y s be left w i t h a c o n v i c t i o n after it has b e e n w e a n e d t h a t its f e e d i n g w a s t o o s h o r t a n d t o o l i t t l e ' ( O u t l i n e , p . 189). A g a i n the t h e m e o f loss is p a r a m o u n t ; as M a l c o l m B o w i e c o m m e n t s , a c c o r d i n g t o t h i s v i e w , ' W e a n i n g gave a b a c k w a r d d r i f t , a helpless r e t r o s p e c t i v e t e n o r , t o a l l p a s s i o n ' (p. 6). Dissatisfaction

arises

too

f r o m the

fact

that

the

coprophilic

instinctual c o m p o n e n t s have also p r o v e d i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h culture, ' p r o b a b l y s i n c e , as a r e s u l t o f o u r a d o p t i n g a n erect g a i t , w e r a i s e d o u r o r g a n o f s m e l l f r o m the g r o u n d ' . B u t the i n s t i n c t s r e m a i n a c t i v e , w h i c h is w h y , s t i l l , 'the e x c r e m e n t a l is a l l t o o i n t i m a t e l y a n d i n s e p a r a b l y b o u n d u p w i t h the s e x u a l ' . E q u a l l y i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h c u l t u r e are the s a d i s t i c i n s t i n c t s . T h e effect o f the r e p r e s s i o n o f s u c h p e r v e r s i o n s a l w a y s r e m a i n s , a n d ' c a n be detected i n s e x u a l a c t i v i t y i n the f o r m o f n o n - s a t i s f a c t i o n ' ( ' O n the U n i v e r s a l T e n d e n c y ' , p p . 2 5 8 ~ 9 ) .

3

T h e ego t o o is the effect o f r e s t r i c t i o n , a n d F r e u d describes this i n t e r m s w h i c h t a k e us a step c l o s e r t o the d e a t h d r i v e , i n t h a t

the

p r i m a r y , p r e - s o c i a l ' u n i t y ' o f b e i n g is a l s o a state o f n o n - b e i n g o r undifferentiation: originally the ego includes everything, later it separates off an external w o r l d f r o m itself. O u r present ego-feeling is, therefore, only a shrunken residue of a much more inclusive - indeed, an all-embracing - f e e l i n g . . . of limitlessness and of a b o n d w i t h the universe . . . ( C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s , p. 255)

D e a t h and t h e i n s t i n c t s : F r e u d ' s m y t h o l o g y o f life's o r i g i n s U n d e r g o i n g r e p r e s s i o n , desire tends t o w a r d s a c o m p u l s i o n t o r e p e a t w h i c h is a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f the d e a t h d r i v e ( B e y o n d

4

t h e Pleasure

P r i n c i p l e , p p . 2 8 3 — 4 ) . T h i s d r i v e w a s a l s o there f r o m the b e g i n n i n g , b u t n o w c o m e s t o the f o r e (in F r e u d i a n t h e o r y the h u m a n i n f a n t is a s t o n i s h i n g l y i n v e s t e d at b i r t h ) . I n s t i n c t s o c i a l i z e d as loss a n d l a c k s o m e h o w r e c o n n e c t s w i t h the m o s t f u n d a m e n t a l i n s t i n c t o f a l l , w h i c h is t o d i e . A s l i f e flickered i n i n a n i m a t e s u b s t a n c e , says F r e u d , it

185

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endeavoured to cancel itself out. In this way the first instinct came into being: the instinct to return to the inanimate state. It was still an easy matter at that time for a living substance to die . . . (p. 311) T h i s is the o r i g i n o f the d e a t h d r i v e - that w h i c h seeks t o ' d i s s o l v e ' life b a c k i n t o its ' p r i m a e v a l , i n o r g a n i c state' ( C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s , p . 310). T h i s is the d e f i n i t i o n o f the d e a t h d r i v e 5

an

i n s t i n c t u a l r e a c h i n g t o w a r d s that state i n w h i c h there is the c o m p l e t e absence o f e x c i t a t i o n , a state o f z e r o t e n s i o n c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f the i n o r g a n i c o r the i n a n i m a t e . W e s h o u l d be clear a b o u t w h a t F r e u d is c l a i m i n g here: the m o s t basic i n s t i n c t u a l d r i v e f o r s a t i s f a c t i o n is i n fact a b a c k w a r d m o v e m e n t t o d e a t h , to the absence o f a l l t e n s i o n : ' " t h e a i m o f a l l l i f e i s d e a t h " ' ( B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e , p . 311; b o t h the e m p h a s i s a n d the q u o t a t i o n m a r k s are h i s ) . A s he w r o t e to A l b e r t E i n s t e i n i n 1932, the d e a t h i n s t i n c t is 'at w o r k i n every l i v i n g creature a n d is s t r i v i n g t o b r i n g it to r u i n a n d t o reduce l i f e t o its o r i g i n a l c o n d i t i o n o f i n a n i m a t e m a t t e r ' ( ' W h y W a r ? ' , p . 357). O r i g i n a l l y , says F r e u d , it w a s r e l a t i v e l y easy f o r l i v i n g substance t o die.

E v e n t u a l l y , h o w e v e r , e x t e r n a l influences m a k e d e a t h m o r e d i f f i -

c u l t ; the o r g a n i s m has to m a k e 'ever m o r e c o m p l i c a t e d d e t o u r s b e f o r e r e a c h i n g its a i m o f d e a t h . T h e s e c i r c u i t o u s p a t h s to d e a t h . . . t h u s present us t o - d a y w i t h the p i c t u r e o f the p h e n o m e n a o f l i f e ' ( B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e , p . 311). L i f e itself is o n l y a d e t o u r to d e a t h . T h e r e are those w h o believe i n a f u t u r e - o r i e n t e d , h u m a n i n s t i n c t t o w a r d s p e r f e c t i o n . F r e u d disagrees, b e l i e v i n g that W h a t appears in a

minority

of human

i n d i v i d u a l s as a n u n t i r i n g i m p u l s i o n

towards further perfection can easily be understood as a result of the instinctual repression upon w h i c h is based all that is most precious i n human civilization, (p. 315) He

elaborates as f o l l o w s : because 'the b a c k w a r d p a t h t h a t leads t o

c o m p l e t e s a t i s f a c t i o n ' - u l t i m a t e l y d e a t h - is b l o c k e d b y the repressions w h i c h c o n s t i t u t e s o c i a l a n d p s y c h i c life (repressions w h i c h , w e m u s t never f o r g e t , are themselves the basis o f c i v i l i z a t i o n ) , the i n s t i n c t r e l u c t a n t l y - against its w i l l , so to speak - p r o c e e d s f o r w a r d , because that is the o n l y d i r e c t i o n i n w h i c h it c a n g o . B u t this f o r w a r d m o v e m e n t

186

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O D E A T H

has n o p o s s i b i l i t y o f c o m p l e t i o n o r o f r e a c h i n g a g o a l . W h i c h m e a n s t h a t w h a t d r i v e s the i n s t i n c t f o r w a r d is n o t e r o s , n o t even energy as s u c h , b u t s o c i a l a n d p s y c h i c r e p r e s s i o n e x p e r i e n c e d as l a c k : it is the difference i n amount between the pleasure of satisfaction w h i c h is d e m a n d e d and that w h i c h is actually a c h i e v e d that provides the driving factor w h i c h w i l l permit of no halting at any position attained, but, i n the poet's [Goethe's] w o r d s , 'presses ever f o r w a r d unsubdued', (p. 315) D e s i r e ' s i m p o s s i b i l i t y derives f r o m the f a c t t h a t s o c i a l i z e d desire is a l a c k w h i c h it is i m p o s s i b l e t o appease because it is the l a c k o f d e a t h itself, w i t h l i f e m e r e l y a n e n f o r c e d s u b s t i t u t e f o r d e a t h , a m o v e m e n t in

the o n l y d i r e c t i o n a v a i l a b l e , w h i c h is f o r w a r d , a n d o n e a l w a y s

u n d e r t a k e n a g a i n s t the m o r e f u n d a m e n t a l desire t o regress, t o d i e . If the i n s t i n c t t o w a r d s h u m a n p e r f e c t i o n is a n i l l u s i o n , so t o o is the n o t i o n o f i n s t i n c t s o f s e l f - p r e s e r v a t i o n . O n the c o n t r a r y , s u c h i n s t i n c t s are i n service t o the u l t i m a t e d e a t h o f the o r g a n i s m : the theoretical importance of the instincts of self-preservation, of selfassertion and of mastery greatly diminishes. They are component instincts whose function it is to assure that the organism shall f o l l o w its o w n path to death . . . the organism wishes to die only i n its o w n fashion. T h u s these guardians of life, too, were originally the myrmidons of death, (pp. 311-12)

Eros B u t there is a c r u c i a l e x c e p t i o n : ' i n s t i n c t u a l life as a w h o l e serves t o bring about death . . . a p a r t f r o m

the sexual instincts'

[Beyond t h e

P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e , p p . 311, 314). T h e e m p h a s i s here is F r e u d ' s o w n , b u t , s i g n i f i c a n t l y , w a s a d d e d t o the t e x t o n l y f r o m 1921 o n w a r d s . I n h i s l a t e r w o r k t h i s d i s t i n c t i o n c o m e s t o f o r m the basis o f the eros/ d e a t h o p p o s i t i o n u p o n w h i c h he t h e n s o u g h t t o base e v e r y t h i n g else. G i v e n this o p p o s i t i o n , T h e emergence of life w o u l d thus be the cause of the continuance of life a n d a l s o a t t h e s a m e t i m e o f t h e s t r i v i n g t o w a r d s d e a t h , and life itself w o u l d be a conflict and compromise between these t w o trends. ( T h e E g o a n d t h e I d , p. 381; my emphasis) 187

DEATH,

Or,

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

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as he p u t it i n C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s ,

'The phenomena

o f life c o u l d be e x p l a i n e d f r o m the c o n c u r r e n t o r m u t u a l l y o p p o s i n g a c t i o n o f these t w o i n s t i n c t s ' (p. 310). T h e m e a n i n g o f the e v o l u t i o n o f c i v i l i z a t i o n is n o t h i n g less t h a n the struggle b e t w e e n eros a n d d e a t h , w h i c h , b e t w e e n t h e m , share ' w o r l d - d o m i n i o n ' (p. 314). H e r e , m o r e 6

c l e a r l y t h a n i n B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e , c i v i l i z a t i o n is r e g a r d e d as i n the service o f a n eros ' w h o s e p u r p o s e is t o c o m b i n e single h u m a n i n d i v i d u a l s , a n d after t h a t f a m i l i e s , t h e n races, p e o p l e s a n d n a t i o n s , i n t o o n e great u n i t y , the u n i t y o f m a n k i n d ' (p. 313). W h e r e a s the a i m o f eros is t o e s t a b l i s h these ever greater u n i t i e s , t o b i n d t h e m together, to p r o l o n g t h e m a n d t o b r i n g life to a ' h i g h e r d e v e l o p m e n t ' , the a i m o f the d e a t h i n s t i n c t i s , ' o n the c o n t r a r y , t o u n d o c o n n e c t i o n s a n d so t o d e s t r o y t h i n g s ' ('The L i b i d o T h e o r y ' , p . 2 5 8 ; O u t l i n e , p . 148). O n e o f several d i f f i c u l t i e s w i t h this a c c o u n t is the w a y t h a t , o n closer s c r u t i n y , the t w o d r i v e s , a l l e g e d l y i n p e r p e t u a l a n t a g o n i s m , also u n i t e o r at least p a r t a k e o f each o t h e r . W h i l e b e i n g c o n v i n c e d t h a t the t w o i n s t i n c t s d o u n i t e , F r e u d is u n s u r e as to e x a c t l y h o w . O n his own

a d m i s s i o n , the d u a l i s t i c h y p o t h e s i s ' t h r o w s n o l i g h t w h a t e v e r

u p o n the m a n n e r i n w h i c h the t w o classes o f i n s t i n c t s are f u s e d , b l e n d e d , a n d a l l o y e d w i t h e a c h o t h e r ' . B u t he insists o n r e t a i n i n g the a s s u m p t i o n that a v e r y extensive f u s i o n a n d a m a l g a m a t i o n does o c c u r , and

regularly ( T h e

Ego

and

t h e I d , p . 381). T h u s , says F r e u d , the

d e a t h d r i v e , o r ' i n s t i n c t o f d e s t r u c t i o n ' , is h a b i t u a l l y b r o u g h t i n t o the service o f eros (p. 382), s a d i s m a n d m a s o c h i s m b e i n g o b v i o u s a n d important examples ( C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s ,

p . 310). T u r n e d

i n w a r d s , as m a s o c h i s m , the i n s t i n c t destroys the o r g a n i s m ; t u r n e d o u t w a r d s , as s a d i s m , it constitutes the v i o l e n c e o f h u m a n h i s t o r y , w h i c h is the greatest i m p e d i m e n t to c i v i l i z a t i o n , a n d d i r e c t l y r e s p o n sible f o r w h a t , i n his 1932 letter to E i n s t e i n , F r e u d calls ' a l l the u g l y and P

d a n g e r o u s i m p u l s e s against w h i c h w e are s t r u g g l i n g ' ( ' W h y W a r ? ' ,

. 358). W h e n a p o r t i o n o f the d e s t r u c t i v e i n s t i n c t is s e x u a l i z e d , 'this is s a d i s m

p r o p e r ' . A n o t h e r p o r t i o n r e m a i n s i n s i d e the o r g a n i s m a n d , w i t h the h e l p o f s e x u a l e x c i t a t i o n , r e m a i n s l i b i d i n a l l y b o u n d there; this is 'the o r i g i n a l , e r o t o g e n i c m a s o c h i s m ' . F r e u d a l s o calls this p o r t i o n of the d e a t h i n s t i n c t ' p r i m a l s a d i s m ' , a n d regards it as i d e n t i c a l w i t h m a s o c h i s m ('The E c o n o m i c P r o b l e m o f M a s o c h i s m ' , p p . 4 1 8 - 1 9 ) . 188

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O D E A T H

T h i s p r i m a l sadism or erotogenic

m a s o c h i s m is a c o m p o n e n t

of

the l i b i d o , w i t h the self as its o b j e c t . A ' s e c o n d a r y m a s o c h i s m ' m a y be a d d e d t o i t : i n this case a n o r i g i n a l l y p r o j e c t e d i n s t i n c t o f d e s t r u c t i o n - s a d i s m - is i n t r o j e c t e d , t u r n e d b a c k u p o n the subject; this o c c u r s r e g u l a r l y w h e r e a ' c u l t u r a l s u p p r e s s i o n o f t h e i n s t i n c t s ' frustrates the subject's n e e d f o r d e s t r u c t i v e i n s t i n c t u a l e x p r e s s i o n (pp. 419, 425). B o t h n o r m a l a n d p a t h o l o g i c a l p h e n o m e n a c a n be t r a c e d t o the i n t e r n a l i z a t i o n o f the d e s t r u c t i v e i n s t i n c t . T h i r d l y , there is ' m o r a l m a s o c h i s m ' , w h i c h a l s o o r i g i n a t e s f r o m the d e a t h d r i v e , a n d a l s o has a n e r o t i c c o m p o n e n t ; a n d this leads t o the r e m a r k a b l e p r o p o s i t i o n t h a t ' e v e n the subject's d e s t r u c t i o n o f h i m s e l f c a n n o t t a k e p l a c e w i t h o u t l i b i d i n a l s a t i s f a c t i o n ' (p. 426). If the l i f e a n d d e a t h d r i v e s c a n b e c o m e f u s e d , they c a n a l s o b e c o m e d e f u s e d . E v e n m o r e s i g n i f i c a n t l y , they are i n h e r e n t l y m u t a b l e , e a c h 7

b e i n g c a p a b l e o f a c t u a l l y t u r n i n g i n t o its o p p o s i t e , as w i t h l o v e t u r n i n g i n t o h a t e a n d hate i n t o l o v e . F r e u d is n o t a s s e r t i n g the o b v i o u s p o i n t t h a t a n e x p e r i e n c e o f h a t e c a n be s u c c e e d e d b y l o v e , o r v i c e v e r s a , o r t h a t a c h a n g e i n the l o v e d o b j e c t c a n p r o v o k e s u c h a s h i f t o f r e g a r d ; r a t h e r , he is c l a i m i n g t h a t there c a n o c c u r a d i r e c t t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f h a t e i n t o l o v e w h i c h is p u r e l y i n t e r n a l a n d n o t d e p e n d e n t u p o n o t h e r m e d i t a t i o n s . A n d i f this does i n d e e d o c c u r - as it m o s t p l a u s i b l y does f o r F r e u d i n p a r a n o i a , w h e r e h o m o s e x u a l l o v e is t r a n s f o r m e d i n t o p e r s e c u t o r y hate — t h e n , o n F r e u d ' s o w n a d m i s s i o n , 'the g r o u n d is c u t a w a y f r o m u n d e r a d i s t i n c t i o n so f u n d a m e n t a l as t h a t

between

erotic instincts a n d death instincts, one w h i c h presupposes p h y s i o l o g i c a l processes r u n n i n g i n o p p o s i t e d i r e c t i o n s ' { T h e E g o a n d t h e I d , P

. 383). T o preserve h i s d u a l i s t i c t h e o r y F r e u d o b v i o u s l y w a n t s t o resist this

c o n c l u s i o n , a n d he does so b y i n v o k i n g yet a n o t h e r h y p o t h e s i s .

8

But

he c a n n o t get a w a y f r o m the fact t h a t the life a n d d e a t h d r i v e s r e m a i n i n t i m a t e l y , i n e x t r i c a b l y r e l a t e d . H e r e i t e r a t e d this i n the letter

to

E i n s t e i n . D e c l a r i n g t h a t ' h u m a n i n s t i n c t s are o f o n l y t w o k i n d s : t h o s e w h i c h seek t o preserve a n d u n i t e - w h i c h w e c a l l e r o t i c . . . a n d t h o s e w h i c h seek t o d e s t r o y a n d k i l l ' , F r e u d c o n t i n u e s : Neither of these instincts is any less essential than the other; the phenomena of life arise f r o m the concurrent or mutually opposing action of both. N o w

189

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DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

it seems as though an instinct of the one sort can scarcely ever operate i n isolation; it is always accompanied - or, as we say, alloyed - w i t h a certain quota from the other side, which modifies its aim or is, i n some cases, what enables it to achieve that aim . . . T h e difficulty of isolating the two classes of instinct i n their actual manifestations is indeed what has so long prevented us f r o m recognizing them. ('Why W a r ? ' , p. 356) In s h o r t , F r e u d resorts to this m o s t f u n d a m e n t a l o f a l l d u a l i s m s o n l y t o find that it is u n s u s t a i n a b l e o r , to the e x t e n t that it is s u s t a i n a b l e , is l a c k i n g i n e x p l a n a t o r y p o w e r : the t w o m o s t e l e m e n t a r y a n d o p p o s e d forces i n the u n i v e r s e are also so c l o s e l y b o u n d together as t o be i n d i s t i n g u i s h a b l e . C o n c e p t u a l l y the life a n d d e a t h d r i v e s are separate; i n p r a c t i c e they are n o t .

9

F r e u d ' s d u a l i s m is u n p e r s u a s i v e i n o t h e r respects t o o . W h e n speaking

o f the d e a t h d r i v e , he equates its a c t i v i t y o f d e s t r o y i n g w i t h that

o f u n b i n d i n g . B u t these t w o activities are n o t necessarily the same. It is just n o t p l a u s i b l e that the m o s t f u n d a m e n t a l c o s m i c b i n a r y is the o p p o s i t i o n between binding/life and unbinding/death. F o r one t h i n g , i n F r e u d ' s e a r l i e r a c c o u n t o f h u m a n d e v e l o p m e n t it w a s p r e c i s e l y s e x u a l i t y itself w h i c h h a d the p o w e r t o u n b i n d ; it w a s c o n c e i v e d as a force w i t h enormous potential for p r o f o u n d psychic d i s r u p t i o n ' f o r e v e r t h r e a t e n i n g the e q u i l i b r i u m o f the p s y c h i c a p p a r a t u s f r o m within'. ing

1 0

T h e sexual perversions, for example, had a p o w e r of unbind-

w h i c h , i n a n i m p o r t a n t sense, w a s o n the side o f l i f e (or at

least instinct) against c i v i l i z a t i o n ; n o t o n l y c o u l d they i n h i b i t the d e v e l o p m e n t o f p s y c h i c a n d s o c i a l u n i t y , they c o u l d a l s o

re-emerge

i n s i d e a n d against t h a t u n i t y , o f t e n d i s a r t i c u l a t i n g i t . B u t i n his d u a l i s t i c t h e o r y (eros v s . t h a n a t o s ) this v e r y c a p a c i t y t o u n b i n d shifts

the

p e r v e r s i o n s across o n t o the side o f d e a t h . A n d , w h e r e a s desire h a d o n c e t h r e a t e n e d c i v i l i z a t i o n , n o w F r e u d i m p l a u s i b l y a l i g n s the t w o : ' c i v i l i z a t i o n is a process i n the service o f E r o s ' ( C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s , p. 313). T h e s e weaknesses

11

a n d inconsistencies

r e s u l t , I believe, because

F r e u d r e s o r t e d t o the d u a l i s t i c t h e o r y i n o r d e r to c o n t a i n s o m e o f the m o r e s h o c k i n g i m p l i c a t i o n s o f his t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e . F o o t n o t e s and p a r a g r a p h s a d d e d t o later e d i t i o n s o f B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e s u p p o r t t h i s . F o r e x a m p l e , a f o o t n o t e a d d e d i n 1925 w a r n s that the

190

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O D E A T H

d e a t h - d r i v e t h e o r y 'is the d e v e l o p m e n t o f a n e x t r e m e l i n e o f t h o u g h t . L a t e r o n , w h e n a c c o u n t is t a k e n o f the s e x u a l i n s t i n c t s , it w i l l be f o u n d t h a t the necessary l i m i t a t i o n s a n d c o r r e c t i o n s are a p p l i e d t o it'

(p. 310). A n d w h e r e a s i n B e y o n d

t h ePleasure

Principle

Freud

a c k n o w l e d g e s h i s closeness t o S c h o p e n h a u e r w i t h o u t r e s e r v a t i o n , i n his N e w

Introductory Lectures

he distances h i m s e l f f r o m the p h i l -

o s o p h e r p r e c i s e l y o n a c c o u n t o f h i s o w n e m p h a s i s o n eros: ' w e are n o t a s s e r t i n g t h a t d e a t h is the o n l y a i m o f l i f e ' (p. 141). P e r h a p s t h i s is w h y it w a s a s h o r t step f o r s o m e t o r e w r i t e the d e a t h d r i v e as p r i m a r i l y a n i n s t i n c t o f a g g r e s s i o n . B u t , as L a p l a n c h e r e m a r k s , s u c h a r e w r i t i n g is i n e r r o r , since f o r F r e u d 'the d e a t h d r i v e is i n the first

i n s t a n c e t u r n e d , n o t t o w a r d the o u t s i d e (as a g g r e s s i v i t y ) , b u t

t o w a r d the s u b j e c t . . . it is r a d i c a l l y n o t a d r i v e t o m u r d e r , b u t a d r i v e t o s u i c i d e , o r t o k i l l o n e s e l f ' . It emerges, says L a p l a n c h e , f r o m F r e u d ' s a t t e m p t t o ' s h a t t e r l i f e i n its v e r y f o u n d a t i o n s ' , f r o m h i s ' c o m p u l s i o n t o a b o l i s h l i f e ' (p. 123; c i t e d i n B o o t h b y , p . 11). A n d yet: does n o t L a p l a n c h e here e c h o the t e r m s o f S a t a n i c t r a n s g r e s s i o n ; a n d does n o t F r e u d ' s o w n a c c o u n t o f the d e a t h d r i v e - the d r i v e t o u n b i n d , t o u n d o — d o the same? O r , as J o h n D o n n e p u t it i n 1611, three h u n d r e d years e a r l i e r , p a r a p h r a s i n g the A u g u s t i n i a n t h e o r y o f e v i l : W e seem ambitious, G o d ' s whole w o r k to undo; Of nothing he made us, and we strive too, T o bring ourselves to nothing back . . . {An

A n a t o m i e of t h e W o r l d , 11. 155-7)

U n b i n d i n g is a n i d e a w i t h a t h e o l o g i c a l h i s t o r y , a n d o n e w h i c h i n c l u d e d S a t a n ' s p o w e r t o u n d o (pervert) the c r e a t e d u n i v e r s e , t o s u b v e r t it f r o m w i t h i n , t o t u r n it a g a i n s t itself, a n d b r i n g it b a c k t o c h a o s o r n o t h i n g n e s s . A n d this w a s a m y t h o l o g y w h i c h a l w a y s k n e w t h a t the p o w e r of u n b i n d i n g was an expression of death w o r k i n g through h u m a n desire. F r e u d ' s a c c o u n t o f the d e a t h d r i v e is a m y t h o l o g y o f c i v i l i z a t i o n , i n d e e d o f the w o r l d , e v e n o f the u n i v e r s e : it d o e s , after a l l , p u r p o r t t o d e s c r i b e n o t h i n g less t h a n the o r i g i n o f life a n d o f d e a t h . A s s u c h it d r a w s o n , o r finds c o n f i r m a t i o n i n , e a r l i e r p h i l o s o p h e r s . K e e n t o c o - o p t the a u t h o r i t y o f the ancients a g a i n s t h i s o w n c o n t e m p o r a r y c r i t i c s , F r e u d h a l f - a c k n o w l e d g e d precedents as close as S c h o p e n h a u e r 191

DEATH,

and

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

as d i s t a n t as E m p e d o c l e s .

1 2

CULTURE

V i r t u a l l y w i t h o u t q u a l i f i c a t i o n , he

e m b r a c e s the latter's t h e o r y o f a n e l e m e n t a l , e v e r l a s t i n g c o n f l i c t i n the u n i v e r s e b e t w e e n p h i l i a a n d n e i k o s , l o v e a n d strife, as p a r a l l e l t o his o w n t h e o r y o f the ' t w o p r i m a l i n s t i n c t s , E r o s a n d d e s t r u c t i v e n e s s ' , r e m a r k i n g 'I a m v e r y r e a d y to give u p the prestige o f o r i g i n a l i t y f o r the sake o f s u c h a c o n f i r m a t i o n ' ( ' A n a l y s i s ' , p . 245). In his letter to E i n s t e i n , F r e u d even c o n c e d e d the m y t h o l o g i c a l basis o f his o w n 'scientific' theory - albeit s o m e w h a t defensively: It may perhaps seem to you as though our theories are a k i n d of mythology and,

in the present case, not even an agreeable one. But does not every science

come i n the end to a k i n d of mythology like this? Cannot the same be said of your o w n physics? ('Why W a r ' , p. 358)

13

S o m e f o u r years later F r e u d seems s t i l l u n s u r e a b o u t t h i s ; i n a c k n o w l e d g i n g a g a i n the s t r i k i n g c o i n c i d e n c e b e t w e e n his t h e o r y a n d t h a t o f E m p e d o c l e s , he nevertheless

d i s t i n g u i s h e s b e t w e e n the

'cosmic

p h a n t a s y ' o f the latter a n d his o w n t h e o r y , w h i c h is ' c o n t e n t to c l a i m b i o l o g i c a l v a l i d i t y ' — o n l y t o a d d , 'at the s a m e t i m e , the f a c t t h a t E m p e d o c l e s ascribes to the u n i v e r s e the s a m e a n i m a t e n a t u r e as t o i n d i v i d u a l o r g a n i s m s r o b s this difference o f m u c h o f its i m p o r t a n c e ' ('Analysis', p p . 2 4 5 - 6 ) . A s for Schopenhauer,

the s i m i l a r i t i e s are

a p p a r e n t f r o m w h a t has a l r e a d y been s a i d . R i c h a r d B o o t h b y

has

r e m a r k e d that in both the metaphysics of Schopenhauer and the concept of the psychoanalytic death drive, what is at stake is the dissolution of the individual ego that poses an obstacle to the further unfolding of the very forces that constituted it. (p. 196)

14

I t h i n k it is m u c h m o r e t h a n that: F r e u d w a s never m o r e p r o v o c a t i v e , i n s i g h t f u l o r p r o f o u n d t h a n w h e n , as here, he w a s b e i n g p e r v e r s e l y speculative a n d evasively d e r i v a t i v e ,

15

w h e n he w a s r e d i s c o v e r i n g , yet

at the s a m e t i m e t r y i n g to c i r c u m v e n t , even to a v o i d , a n

ancient,

s h o c k i n g v i s i o n - at d i f f e r e n t times a m e t a p h y s i c , a t h e o l o g y a n d a m y t h o l o g y - w h e r e b y d e a t h is n o t s i m p l y the t e r m i n a t i o n o f life (that b e i n g the m y s t i f y i n g b a n a l i t y by w h i c h w e live) b u t life's d r i v i n g f o r c e , its a n i m a t i n g , d y n a m i c p r i n c i p l e : s i m p l y , i n F r e u d ' s o w n w o r d s i n 1920, ' " t h e a i m o f a l l l i f e

i s d e a t h " '; o r , as S c h o p e n h a u e r p u t it 192

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O

DEATH

e a r l i e r , ' D y i n g is c e r t a i n l y t o be r e g a r d e d as the r e a l a i m o f l i f e . ' A s I suggested

e a r l i e r , these p r o p o s i t i o n s r e c a l l W i l l i a m D r u m m o n d ' s

v i s i o n o f d e a t h b e i n g t o l i f e ' a n i n w a r d cause o f a necessary d i s s o l u t i o n ' , o r M o n t a i g n e ' s c o n t e n t i o n t h a t 'the g o a l o f o u r career is d e a t h . It is the necessary o b j e c t o f o u r a i m ' (above, P a r t II). A n d o u t o f c o n t e x t they even resemble O l d Testament w i s d o m literature. F r e u d ' s persuasiveness d e r i v e s i n p a r t f r o m his b r i l l i a n t r e f a s h i o n i n g a n d i n c o r p o r a t i o n - o n e m i g h t a l m o s t say ' i m p l a n t a t i o n ' - o f these o l d e r ideas i n t o the 'new'

w o r l d of interiority created by psychoanalysis. A n d , if s o m e t h i n g

o f t h e i r p e r s u a s i v e n e s s is t h e r e b y r e a c t i v a t e d , it is i n a f o r m e v e n m o r e i n t e r n a l t o the h u m a n p s y c h e . O n e t h i n g t h a t F r e u d a d d s is the t h e o r y o f a l l i n s t i n c t s as e s s e n t i a l l y regressive: ' a n i n s t i n c t i s a n u r g e i n h e r e n t i n o r g a n i c l i f e t o r e s t o r e a n earlier state

o f things'

(Beyond

t h ePleasure

P r i n c i p l e , p . 308; h i s

e m p h a s i s ) . A l l o r g a n i c i n s t i n c t s are, i n t h i s sense, c o n s e r v a t i v e . T h e e a r l i e r m u t a b i l i t y t r a d i t i o n is s h o t t h r o u g h w i t h w o r l d - w e a r i n e s s , n o s t a l g i a , l o s s , r e s i g n a t i o n a n d regressive d e s i r e , b u t i n a w a y w h i c h r e m a i n s r e l u c t a n t l y f o r w a r d - l o o k i n g a n d f o r w a r d - d r i v e n : d e s i r e , sava g e d i n t e r n a l l y b y d e a t h as a l i v i n g m u t a b i l i t y , is nevertheless d r i v e n f o r w a r d b y d e a t h t o its o w n d e s t r u c t i o n , a n d d e a t h as f u t u r e event is a w a i t e d as the e n d o r t r a n s c e n d e n c e o f d e s i r e . F r e u d describes a s i m i l a r s i t u a t i o n , o n l y n o w it is a c o n s e q u e n c e o f the l a c k a n d d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n d e r i v i n g f r o m r e p r e s s i o n . B u t deeper t h a n r e p r e s s i o n , a n d c o n t i n u a l l y e x e r t i n g its p u l l , is a n i n s t i n c t u a l h a r m o n y b e t w e e n d e a t h a n d d e s i r e ; i n the deepest s o u r c e o f l i f e itself is a regressive desire t o d i e .

D e a t h beyond

Freud

T h e d e a t h - d r i v e t h e o r y has n o t f o u n d w i d e a c c e p t a n c e a m o n g F r e u d ' s f o l l o w e r s . W i t h s i g n i f i c a n t e x c e p t i o n s l i k e M e l a n i e K l e i n , it has been e x p l i c i t l y d e n o u n c e d as m i s c o n c e i v e d b i o l o g y , u n s u b s t a n t i a t e d s p e c u l a t i o n , l o g i c a l l y i n c o h e r e n t and/or w i t h o u t e v i d e n c e . It has a l s o b e e n a t t r i b u t e d t o F r e u d ' s o w n p a i n f u l p e r s o n a l c i r c u m s t a n c e s : the d e a t h o f h i s d a u g h t e r , the d e a t h o f a g r a n d s o n , his o w n illness (cancer), and

h i s l i f e l o n g p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h . O f t h o s e w h o h a v e been

s y m p a t h e t i c t o the i d e a , m o s t h a v e t e n d e d t o t a m e it - as i n d e e d d i d 193

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

F r e u d h i m s e l f . O n e m o v e w a s t o r e w r i t e the i n s t i n c t as l a r g e l y a n i n s t i n c t o f a g g r e s s i o n . B u t f o r F r e u d the aggressive aspect o f the d e a t h d r i v e h a d been s e c o n d a r y ; the i n s t i n c t w a s p r i m a r i l y s e l f - d e s t r u c t i v e . S a d i s m derives f r o m a m o r e p r i m o r d i a l m a s o c h i s m , w h i c h m e a n s i n effect that h u m a n a g g r e s s i o n i s , o r i g i n a l l y , self-destructiveness. O f a l l subsequent theorists o f p s y c h o a n a l y s i s , J a c q u e s L a c a n takes the d e a t h d r i v e m o s t s e r i o u s l y , a n d m o s t c o n t e m p o r a r y p s y c h o a n a l y t i c a t t e n t i o n t o it c o m e s v i a h i m . T o his c r e d i t , L a c a n does n o t u n d e r p l a y o r t a m e the d e a t h d r i v e , a n d he locates F r e u d f i r m l y w i t h i n the W e s t e r n t r a d i t i o n w h e n he r e m a r k s t h a t F r e u d q u e s t i o n e d life as to its m e a n i n g and

his a n s w e r w a s n o t that it h a d n o n e — ' w h i c h is a c o n v e n i e n t w a y

o f w a s h i n g o n e ' s h a n d s o f the w h o l e b u s i n e s s ' - b u t t h a t life has ' o n l y o n e m e a n i n g , t h a t i n w h i c h desire is b o r n e b y d e a t h ' (Écrits,

p . 277).

A c c o r d i n g t o L a c a n , the F r e u d i a n w o r l d is o n e n o t o f t h i n g s , n o r even o f b e i n g , b u t r a t h e r o f desire. M o r e so even t h a n F r e u d , L a c a n finds i n desire 'the p a r a d o x i c a l , d e v i a n t , e r r a t i c , e c c e n t r i c , even s c a n d a l o u s c h a r a c t e r b y w h i c h it is d i s t i n g u i s h e d f r o m n e e d ' . A l t h o u g h this d i s t i n c t i o n has been ' a l w a y s o b v i o u s t o m o r a l i s t s w o r t h y o f the n a m e ' , p s y c h o a n a l y s i s nevertheless misses the p o i n t by p u r s u i n g a n o b s c u r a n t i s t r e d u c t i o n o f desire t o need (p. 286). A n d t h a t , f o r L a c a n , is a c a r d i n a l e r r o r . T h i s d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n desire a n d need leads h i m t o d w e l l o n s o m e t h i n g else i n b o t h F r e u d a n d e a r l i e r w r i t e r s , m o r a l i s t s and

o t h e r w i s e : the r e l a t i o n b e t w e e n desire a n d l a c k . In m o d e r n p s y c h o -

a n a l y s i s w e find a s e c u l a r i z e d , i n t e n s i f i e d v e r s i o n o f a n e x i s t e n t i a l p e r c e p t i o n t h a t goes b a c k a l o n g w a y , even t h o u g h the i m m e d i a t e influences here are H e i d e g g e r a n d K o j è v e : Desire is a relation of being to lack. This lack is the lack of being properly speaking. It isn't the lack of this or that, but lack of being whereby the being exists. (Lacan, S e m i n a r , II.222-3) F o r L a c a n , d e a t h is the n a m e f o r a p r i m o r d i a l absence i n t r i n s i c to presence;

as J o h n F o r r e s t e r p u t s i t , 'presence i n c l u d e s as its v e r y

c o n d i t i o n the l i m i t b e y o n d w h i c h is its a b s e n c e ' (p. 176).

16

T o bind

desire so r e s o l u t e l y i n t o l a c k a n d absence means t h a t it i n e v i t a b l y b e c o m e s a k i n d o f essential n e g a t i v i t y ( L a c a n , S e m i n a r , 1.146)

17

—

s o m e t h i n g p r e m i s e d o n a n i n i t i a l f a i l u r e o f s a t i s f a c t i o n a n d w h i c h , as s u c h , c o m e s to exist o n l y b y v i r t u e o f its o w n a l i e n a t i o n ; as J u l i e t 194

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O

DEATH

M i t c h e l l p u t s i t , ' D e s i r e persists as a n effect o f a p r i m o r d i a l absence and

it t h e r e f o r e i n d i c a t e s t h a t , i n t h i s a r e a , there is s o m e t h i n g f u n d a -

mentally impossible about satisfaction i t s e l f (Lacan, F e m i n i n e

Sexu-

a l i t y , p . 6 ) . O n e c o n s e q u e n c e o f t h i s is a r a d i c a l f r a g m e n t a t i o n o f the h u m a n subject.

18

In o n e respect L a c a n recasts the f a m i l i a r m e t a p h y s i c a l i d e a t h a t l i f e is r o o t e d i n d e a t h : ' i t is d e a t h t h a t sustains e x i s t e n c e ' (Écrits,

p . 300).

In h i s d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h i s i d e a he c o m b i n e s d i v e r s e elements o f the W e s t e r n t r a d i t i o n o f desire's i m p o s s i b i l i t y : a t h e o l o g y o f desire as d e a t h , c r o s s e d w i t h s o m e t h i n g m o r e r o m a n t i c i f n o less severe - desire as a n n i h i l a t i n g excess, a p r i m o r d i a l d i s c o r d . T h e t w o elements

are

f u s e d i n t h o s e p l a c e s w h e r e , f o r e x a m p l e , he speaks o f ' t h a t desperate a f f i r m a t i o n o f l i f e t h a t is the p u r e s t f o r m i n w h i c h w e r e c o g n i z e the d e a t h i n s t i n c t ' (p. 104). T h e s e ideas t h e n get r e w o r k e d a c c o r d i n g t o s t r u c t u r a l i s t a n d l i n g u i s t i c p r e o c c u p a t i o n s , as w h e n he speaks o f the ' f r e n z y ' o f d e s i r e ' m o c k i n g the abyss o f the i n f i n i t e ' , a n d o f h o w t h i s a m o u n t s to ' n o other derangement of instinct t h a n that of being caught i n the r a i l s - e t e r n a l l y s t r e t c h i n g f o r t h t o w a r d s the d e s i r e f o r e l s e - o f m e t o n y m y . H e n c e its " p e r v e r s e "

fixation

something

at the v e r y s u s p e n -

s i o n - p o i n t o f the s i g n i f y i n g c h a i n w h e r e the m e m o r y - s c r e e n is i m m o b i l i z e d a n d the f a s c i n a t i n g i m a g e o f the f e t i s h is p e t r i f i e d ' (p. 167). In the s a m e v e i n L a c a n suggests t h a t it is f r o m d e a t h t h a t existence t a k e s o n a l l the m e a n i n g it h a s ; the l a c k w h i c h is at the h e a r t o f desire is a l s o the p r i c e t h a t h u m a n beings p a y f o r t h e i r a d m i s s i o n t o l a n g u a g e and

c u l t u r e . D e a t h m a k e s l i f e p o s s i b l e i n t h a t it m a k e s m e a n i n g a n d

r e p r e s e n t a t i o n p o s s i b l e ; it is n o t o n l y b e f o r e speech b u t ' p r i m o r d i a l t o the b i r t h o f s y m b o l s ' (pp. 1 0 4 - 5 , 3 0 0 ) . H e n c e L a c a n ' s m o s t w e l l - k n o w n f o r m u l a t i o n , t h a t the u n c o n s c i o u s is s t r u c t u r e d l i k e a l a n g u a g e , a n d his

c l a i m t o h a v e d e m o n s t r a t e d 'the p r o f o u n d r e l a t i o n s h i p u n i t i n g

the n o t i o n o f the d e a t h i n s t i n c t t o the p r o b l e m s o f s p e e c h '

(Four

F u n d a m e n t a l C o n c e p t s , p . 2 0 ; E c r i t s , p . 101). R i c h a r d B o o t h b y r e g a r d s t h i s as the m o s t r a d i c a l a n d i n n o v a t i v e aspect o f L a c a n . I r e m a i n unconvinced.

1 9

L a c a n ' s i n v o c a t i o n s o f d e a t h ' s c e n t r a l i t y t o l i f e are m o r e d e r i v a t i v e than their c o m p l e x , often obscure, f o r m u l a t i o n s suggest. declares t h a t

195

20

W h e n he

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

A l l that life is concerned w i t h is seeking repose as much as possible while awaiting death. T h i s is what devours the time of the suckling baby at the beginning of its existence . . . Life is concerned solely w i t h dying ( S e m i n a r , II.233) w e c a n hear F r e u d a n d S c h o p e n h a u e r m o s t c l o s e l y , b u t a l s o M o n t a i g n e (especially i n t h a t last a s s e r t i o n - ' L i f e is c o n c e r n e d s o l e l y w i t h d y i n g ' ) , w h o a l s o , i n c i d e n t a l l y , c o n s o l i d a t e d h i s o w n p e r c e p t i o n o f this t r u t h w i t h extensive c i t a t i o n o f c l a s s i c a l sources. In the g i v i n g o v e r o f the n e w b o r n c h i l d t o d e a t h w e m i g h t hear t o o the e a r l y C h r i s t i a n F a t h e r s . L a c a n does n o t e x a c t l y d i s g u i s e his precedents; the passage just c i t e d c o n t i n u e s w i t h a reference t o H a m l e t ' s ' t o d i e , t o sleep, p e r c h a n c e t o d r e a m ' a n d t o the i d e a d e v e l o p e d b y p h i l o s o p h e r s i n a n t i q u i t y t h a t it w o u l d h a v e been better n o t t o h a v e been b o r n . B u t (and this recalls F r e u d ' s o w n evasive a c k n o w l e d g m e n t o f his influences) i n L a c a n these a l l u s i o n s to the past are fleeting, i n p a s s i n g , a l m o s t secretive;

the

i m p l i c a t i o n is that these past w r i t e r s a n t i c i p a t e s o m e t h i n g w h i c h c a n o n l y p r o p e r l y , a n d o n l y n o w , be u n d e r s t o o d t h r o u g h the lens

of

L a c a n i a n p s y c h o a n a l y s i s , w h o s e c o m p l e x i t y i s , at the s a m e t i m e , a l m o s t g u a r a n t e e d t o defeat the a t t e m p t . S o m e at least o f that c o m p l e x i t y is o b s c u r a n t i s t . In the w a k e o f c o n t e m p o r a r y c u l t u r a l d e v e l o p m e n t s , i n c l u d i n g the p e r c e i v e d f a i l u r e o f s e x u a l r a d i c a l i s m a n d the t r a u m a o f A I D S , there are those w h o h a v e t u r n e d to L a c a n f o r a m o r e h o n e s t v i e w o f desire, a n d , v i a h i m , are r e c o n s i d e r i n g a severe a c c o u n t o f h u m a n desire. I s h o u l d n o t speak f o r t h e m ; w h a t I find i n L a c a n is a n o v e r t h e o r i z e d expression of something more significantly a n d relevantly expressed elsewhere (in F r e u d a n d before). It this respect I believe he is s y m p t o m atic o f a m u c h w i d e r t e n d e n c y i n (post-) m o d e r n t h e o r y . B u t i n t e r m s o f his influence a l o n e L a c a n r e m a i n s s i g n i f i c a n t f o r this s t u d y . B y c r o s s i n g F r e u d ' s d e a t h d r i v e w i t h the p h i l o s o p h y o f l a c k a n d n o t h i n g ness d e r i v e d f r o m K o j e v e ' s v e r s i o n o f H e g e l (itself i n f l u e n c e d by H e i d e g g e r ) , he c o n t i n u e s t o d r i v e d e a t h ever f u r t h e r i n t o b e i n g ; n o w , p e r h a p s m o r e i n e x o r a b l y t h a n ever b e f o r e , d e a t h is the l a c k w h i c h d r i v e s desire. In d o i n g that he also e x e m p l i f i e s a n o t h e r

significant

tendency i n m o d e r n thought w h i c h I have already r e m a r k e d , namely the a n t i - h u m a n i s t w i s h to decentre ' m a n ' i n the n a m e o f a p h i l o s o p h y

196

FREUD:

L I F E AS A D E T O U R T O D E A T H

w h i c h is t r u l y a d e q u a t e t o the c o m p l e x i t y o f b e i n g , yet w h i c h seeks t o r e t a i n a r e s i d u a l h u m a n m a s t e r y i n the v e r y e f f o r t o f a r t i c u l a t i n g t h i s c o m p l e x i t y . A s w e h a v e seen, the p h i l o s o p h i c a l b i d t o c o m p r e h e n d the t r u t h o f b e i n g w a s a l w a y s a f o r m o f i n t e l l e c t u a l e m p o w e r m e n t

-

e v e n , o r r a t h e r e s p e c i a l l y , w h e n i s s u i n g i n the d e c l a r a t i o n t h a t l i f e , desire a n d the w o r l d h a v e t o be r e n o u n c e d . B u t m o d e r n t h e o r y , h a v i n g l o s t f a i t h i n o l d e r p h i l o s o p h i c a l n o t i o n s o f t r u t h , n o w half-settles f o r the m a s t e r y o f a n e w k i n d o f c o m p l e x i t y w h i c h it p a r t l y p r o d u c e s i n o r d e r t o e n a b l e this p e r f o r m a n c e o f m a s t e r y . P h o e n i x - l i k e , the o m n i s c i e n t , m a s t e r f u l a n d a b o v e a l l c o m p l e x a n a l y t i c o f the m o d e r n t h e o r i s t rises a b o v e h i s sacrifice o f ' m a n ' to d e a t h .

197

VI RENOUNCING DEATH

I5 The Philosophy of Praxis and Emancipation: Feuerbach, Marx, Marcuse

Renunciation to emancipation Schopenhauer

believed that to o b t a i n a full understanding of

h u m a n c o n d i t i o n w a s necessarily

t o achieve

the

a state o f p r o f o u n d

r e s i g n a t i o n , a n d t o r e l i n q u i s h the w i l l - t o - l i v e . H e f o u n d s u c h r e s i g n a t i o n r e a l i z e d m o s t c o m p e l l i n g l y i n the v i s i o n o f t r a g e d y ,

where

( a c c o r d i n g t o h i m ) heroes d i e p u r i f i e d b y s u f f e r i n g , w h e n the w i l l - t o l i v e has a l r e a d y e x p i r e d i n t h e m ( W o r l d , I.235). T h i s , as w e s h a l l see, is w h a t N i e t z s c h e w o u l d so i n f l u e n t i a l l y react against — n o t just i n S c h o p e n h a u e r b u t i n the entire W e s t e r n p h i l o s o p h i c a l t r a d i t i o n , w h i c h , he b e l i e v e d , has a l w a y s t e n d e d t o p e s s i m i s m : ' I n every age the w i s e s t h a v e p a s s e d the i d e n t i c a l j u d g e m e n t o n l i f e : i t i s w o r t h l e s s . . .' E v e r y w h e r e a n d a l w a y s the w i s e s t e x p r e s s a w o r l d - v i e w ' f u l l o f d o u b t , f u l l of m e l a n c h o l y , full of weariness w i t h life, full of o p p o s i t i o n to life' (Twilight,

p . 29). It is i n this sense t h a t , f o r N i e t z s c h e ,

Western

p h i l o s o p h y is d e c a d e n t - a n d n o t just r e c e n t l y , b u t f r o m its i n c e p t i o n . F o r h i m , as w e h a v e a l r e a d y seen, Socrates a n d P l a t o w e r e f o u n d i n g d e c a d e n t s , agents o f the d e c l i n e a n d d e g e n e r a t i o n o f G r e e k c u l t u r e a n d of a d e a t h - w i s h — 'Socrates w a n t e d to die' — a n d a related eroticism: ' S o c r a t e s w a s also a great e r o t i c ' (pp. 34, 32; cf. B i r t h , p . 85). A s f o r P l a t o , he w a s 'so m o r a l l y i n f e c t e d , so m u c h a n a n t e c e d e n t C h r i s t i a n . . . a c o w a r d i n the face o f r e a l i t y [ w h o ] flees i n t o the i d e a l ' . T h e C h r i s t i a n G o d comes to stand o n l y for ' d e c l i n i n g , debilitated, w a r y , condemned life' ( T w i l i g h t , pp. 1 0 6 - 7 , 4 5

—

F o r the m o s t p a r t S c h o p e n h a u e r l e d a s e c l u d e d l i f e . H e a s s i d u o u s l y a v o i d e d , a n d i f necessary a c t u a l l y fled, the w a r s , p o l i t i c a l struggles a n d o t h e r s o c i a l d i s r u p t i o n s o f his o w n t i m e . H i s m e t a p h y s i c a l v i e w 201

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

o f the w o r l d m a d e h i m c o n s e r v a t i v e i n p o l i t i c s . H e r e g a r d e d the State as a necessary e v i l , there t o p r o t e c t m e n f r o m e a c h o t h e r . H e d i d n o t believe i n p r o g r e s s . H i s t o r y repeats itself; n o t h i n g changes a n d n o o n e r e a l l y learns a n y t h i n g ( W o r l d , 1.183). H e w a s a d a m a n t l y o p p o s e d t o r e v o l u t i o n a r y p r a x i s . I n S e p t e m b e r 1848 p o l i t i c a l t u r m o i l c a u g h t u p w i t h h i m a n d he b e c a m e e m b r o i l e d i n r e v o l u t i o n a r y f e r v o u r i n F r a n k furt. A m o b attempted to storm Parliament. Schopenhauer observed the event f r o m h i s w i n d o w - i n p a r t i c u l a r the a c t i v i t y o f s o m e snipers w i t h rifles. S u d d e n l y s o m e s o l d i e r s entered his r o o m , i n t e n t u p o n u s i n g his w i n d o w t o fire u p o n the m o b . T h e y c h a n g e d t h e i r m i n d , d e c i d i n g t h a t n e x t d o o r a f f o r d e d a n even better o p p o r t u n i t y . S c h o p e n h a u e r , d e s p i s i n g a l l r e v o l u t i o n a r y a c t i v i t y , o f f e r e d his

opera-glasses

t o enable t h e m t o t a k e better a i m ( S a f r a n s k i , p p . 3 2 4 - 5 ) . M a r x w i l l say t h a t h i t h e r t o p h i l o s o p h e r s h a d o n l y i n t e r p r e t e d the w o r l d ; h e n c e f o r t h the p h i l o s o p h i c a l task is t o change i t ; t h i n k i n g w i l l b e c o m e a f o r m o f p r a x i s . It w a s n o t o n l y t h a t p h i l o s o p h e r s p r e v i o u s l y h a d p r e f e r r e d t h o u g h t t o a c t i o n ; the u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f the w o r l d t h a t m a n y o f t h e m h a d a r r i v e d at i n c l u d e d the belief that it w a s i m p o s s i b l e , o r at least p o i n t l e s s , t o t r y t o c h a n g e i t . If p h i l o s o p h i c a l r e f l e c t i o n h a d led t h e m t o r e n o u n c e the v e r y i d e a o f p r a x i s , this seems t o h a v e been e s p e c i a l l y so f o r those w h o m e d i t a t e d the t r u t h o f d e a t h a n d the n a t u r e o f h u m a n desire. B u t M a r x w o u l d also argue t h a t , w i t h m a n y o f these p h i l o s o p h e r s , t h e i r t h i n k i n g a b o u t the u l t i m a t e t r u t h s w a s c o n d i t i o n e d by t h e i r o w n s o c i a l p o s i t i o n i n g , a n d t o a n e x t e n t w h i c h they c o u l d never k n o w . C e r t a i n l y t h e i r p h i l o s o p h y w a s n o t as d i s i n t e r e s t e d as they t h o u g h t o r p r e t e n d e d , either t o themselves o r t o others o r b o t h . A n d yet it h a r d l y r e q u i r e s a M a r x i s t c r i t i q u e t o see that S c h o p e n h a u e r (for instance) h a t e d r e v o l u t i o n a r y a c t i v i t y p a r t l y because he f e a r e d f o r h i s o w n s e c u r i t y , e s p e c i a l l y h i s p r o p e r t y , a n d t h a t this u n d o u b t e d l y affected his s c e p t i c i s m a b o u t the s o c i a l p r o g r e s s a n d d e m o c r a t i c t r a n s f o r m a t i o n w h i c h others at t h a t t i m e y e a r n e d f o r . It is a

resonant

i m a g e : the c u l t u r e d p h i l o s o p h e r w h o has r e n o u n c e d p r a x i s

finds

h i m s e l f , a g a i n s t h i s w i l l , e m b r o i l e d i n v i o l e n t s o c i a l struggle a n d r e s p o n d s b y o f f e r i n g the forces o f l a w a n d o r d e r the use o f h i s opera-glasses as a m a k e s h i f t r i f l e - s i g h t . W h a t is s t r i k i n g is h o w m a n y o f the o t h e r p h i l o s o p h e r s w e h a v e so f a r e n c o u n t e r e d a l s o are s a i d o r c a n be seen to h a v e r e n o u n c e d the 202

PRAXIS AND EMANCIPATION:

FEUERBACH,

MARX,

MARCUSE

i d e a o f p r o g r e s s o r b e l i e f i n the p o s s i b i l i t y o f s o c i a l i m p r o v e m e n t . H e r a c l i t u s , w h o c o n c e i v e d the u n i v e r s e i n t e r m s o f p r o c e s s , c h a n g e a n d a r a d i c a l m u t a b i l i t y , r e p u t e d l y r e f u s e d t o engage i n p o l i t i c s o r t a k e sides i n p o l i t i c a l a r g u m e n t s , a n d h a d l i t t l e s y m p a t h y f o r d e m o c r a c y i n the G r e e k sense. H e seems t o h a v e h a d n o d i s c i p l e s , a n d o n e a n e c d o t e d e p i c t s h i m f l e e i n g h u m a n society a n d l i v i n g as a h e r m i t i n the m o u n t a i n s ( K a h n , p p . 1 - 3 ) . K a r l P o p p e r finds i n H e r a c l i t u s the o r i g i n s o f m o d e r n a n t i - d e m o c r a t i c t e n d e n c i e s , a n d speculates t h a t his p h i l o s o p h y of change was p r o m p t e d by traumatic experiences of revolutionary social and political t u r m o i l . Popper remarks,

perceptively if

not

e n t i r e l y a c c u r a t e l y , t h a t p h i l o s o p h e r s w h o c o n c e p t u a l i z e the w o r l d as e s s e n t i a l l y u n s t a b l e are o v e r c o m p e n s a t i n g f o r the f a c t t h a t they

find

c h a n g e d i s t u r b i n g : c h a n g e itself is e l e v a t e d i n t o the status o f

the

u n c h a n g i n g l a w , a n d so b e c o m e s a k i n d o f s u r r o g a t e f o r the p e r m a n ence they y e a r n f o r ( I . n - 1 7 ) . B e t w e e n H e r a c l i t u s a n d S c h o p e n h a u e r there are m a n y o t h e r s , a n d f r e q u e n t l y it is s o c i a l a n d h i s t o r i c a l t u r m o i l t h a t n o t o n l y leads t o t h e i r r e n u n c i a t i o n o f s o c i e t y , b u t a l s o p r o v e s t o be the c o n t e x t , i f n o t the c a u s e , o f t h e i r m e d i t a t i o n s u p o n d e a t h a n d its r e l a t i o n t o desire. I n o t h e r w o r d s , it is as m u c h s o c i a l a n d p o l i t i c a l t u r m o i l as the f a c t o f d e a t h itself w h i c h p r o v o k e s the p h i l o s o p h y o f d e a t h . P l a t o , argues P o p p e r , e v e n m o r e t h a n H e r a c l i t u s , s u f f e r e d d e s p e r a t e l y u n d e r the p o l i t i c a l i n s t a b i l i t y a n d i n s e c u r i t y o f the t i m e i n w h i c h he l i v e d (pp. 18 19). E p i c u r u s w i t h d r e w f r o m the p o l i t i c a l c h a o s o f his t i m e , o f f e r i n g the f a m o u s i n j u n c t i o n ' L i v e u n k n o w n ' a n d d e s c r i b i n g the w o r l d o f p u b l i c a f f a i r s a n d p o l i t i c s as a ' p r i s o n ' f r o m w h i c h w e m u s t release o u r s e l v e s ( E p i c u r u s , p p . 1 3 9 , 1 1 5 ) . L u c r e t i u s gave u p p o l i t i c s a n d w a r f o r p h i l o s o p h y . Seneca a n d M a r c u s A u r e l i u s w e r e l i t e r a l l y w o r l d leaders w h o , i n t h e i r p h i l o s o p h y at least, b e c a m e d e s p a i r i n g o f the w o r l d . W e s h o u l d never f o r g e t t h a t , i n the c o n t e x t o f S t o i c i s m , it is the e x p e r i e n c e d f a i l u r e s o f s o m e t h i n g l i k e p r a x i s itself w h i c h leads d i r e c t l y t o a p h i l o s o p h y o f r e n u n c i a t i o n . S c h o p e n h a u e r is the h e i r o f these p h i l o s o p h e r s , as i n d e e d are m a n y m o r e recent w r i t e r s w h o s e m o d e r n i s t c r e d e n t i a l s

sometimes

o b s c u r e t h e i r c o n n e c t i o n w i t h this l o n g e r h i s t o r y . A s f o r the m o d e r n t h e o r i s t s o f s o c i a l d e a t h , D a n i e l P i c k r e m i n d s us t h a t 'the

social-

b i o l o g i c a l t h e o r y o f d e g e n e r a t i o n e m e r g e d i n the 1880s m o s t p o w e r f u l l y as a c o u n t e r - t h e o r y t o m a s s - d e m o c r a c y a n d s o c i a l i s m ' (p. 218). 203

DEATH,

And

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

yet it is w o r t h r e p e a t i n g : the p h i l o s o p h y o f r e n u n c i a t i o n o f t e n

r e d o u b l e s the s e c u l a r e f f o r t , b u t i n the f o r m o f r e a c t i o n . A n d w e m i g h t r e m a r k a g a i n the i r o n y t h a t S t o i c i s m o r i g i n a t e s , o r is p o w e r f u l l y e n d o r s e d b y , s o m e o f those at the centre o f w o r l d p o w e r .

The

darkness

w h i c h obliterates

difference

C o n s i d e r a g a i n C o n r a d ' s H e a r t o f D a r k n e s s i n the l i g h t o f the p o l i t i c a l q u e s t i o n w h i c h has been a s k e d o f it w i t h i n c r e a s i n g u r g e n c y i n recent t i m e s : is it a r a c i s t t e x t ?

1

I n C o n r a d ' s defence it c a n be s a i d t h a t

he e x p o s e s , either d i r e c t l y o r i r o n i c a l l y , the b r u t a l i t y o f i m p e r i a l i s t e x p l o i t a t i o n i n A f r i c a . A l s o that he relentlessly u n d e r c u t s the s u p e r i o r ity a n d d i f f e r e n c e o f the c i v i l i z e d to the p r i m i t i v e , even t o the p o i n t o f c o l l a p s i n g the o n e i n t o the o t h e r . A n d that is i m p o r t a n t , e s p e c i a l l y because at the t i m e o f the n o v e l ' s a p p e a r a n c e s u c h a s s u m p t i o n s o f s u p e r i o r i t y w e r e p o w e r f u l l y active i n the i d e o l o g i c a l j u s t i f i c a t i o n o f e x p l o i t a t i o n . T h i s m e r g i n g o r c o l l a p s i n g o f the a s s u m e d differences b e t w e e n A f r i c a a n d E u r o p e , the c i v i l i z e d a n d the p r i m i t i v e , is, as w e s a w , i n t r i n s i c t o the p a r a d o x i c a l n a t u r e o f K u r t z : the m o s t c i v i l i z e d b e c o m e s the o n e w h o m o s t 'degenerates',

w h o b e c o m e s the f o c u s ,

even the f o r c e , w h i c h u n b i n d s the c i v i l i z e d a n d w h o e p i t o m i z e s the fears w h i c h d e g e n e r a t i o n t h e o r y tries to c o n t a i n , n a m e l y t h a t c i v i l i z a t i o n is s o m e h o w m o v i n g f o r w a r d a n d regressing t o its o w n r u i n . A t the e n d o f the n o v e l , w h e n M a r l o w r e t u r n s to L o n d o n , his lies t o K u r t z ' s i n t e n d e d are t o p r o t e c t her f r o m the d a r k n e s s w h i c h he has p e r c e i v e d just b e h i n d the veneer o f c i v i l i z a t i o n - a d a r k n e s s w h i c h , as d u s k f e l l , seemed to be g a t h e r i n g even i n her o w n d r a w i n g - r o o m (pp.

1 0 5 - 6 ) . H e has, o f c o u r s e , p r e p a r e d us f o r this at the b e g i n n i n g

o f his s t o r y ; m o o r e d o n the T h a m e s at G r a v e s e n d , east o f L o n d o n , he r e m a r k s ' t h i s also . . . has been one o f the d a r k places o f the e a r t h ' (p. 7). H e reflects that w h e n the i n v a d i n g R o m a n s s t r u g g l e d u p the T h a m e s t h e i r e n c o u n t e r w i t h d e a t h , disease a n d the a l i e n c l o s e l y r e s e m b l e d the E u r o p e a n s ' later e x p e r i e n c e o f A f r i c a , a n d i n d e e d his own

j o u r n e y u p the C o n g o : 'I w a s t h i n k i n g o f v e r y o l d t i m e s , w h e n

the R o m a n s first c a m e here, n i n e t e e n h u n d r e d years ago - the o t h e r day

. . . D a r k n e s s w a s here y e s t e r d a y ' (p. 8). In s h o r t , w h e r e the 204

PRAXIS AND EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H , M A R X ,

MARCUSE

p r i m e v a l d a r k n e s s is c o n c e r n e d , there is n o t m u c h t o d i s t i n g u i s h A f r i c a n o w f r o m L o n d o n t h e n . A n d it is e x a c t l y this r a d i c a l erasure o f d i f f e r e n c e w h i c h o n the o n e side m a k e s p o s s i b l e the n o v e l ' s c r i t i q u e o f i m p e r i a l e x p l o i t a t i o n a n d o n the o t h e r renders it v u l n e r a b l e t o the c h a r g e o f d e h u m a n i z i n g A f r i c a , o f m a k i n g the C o n g o the b l a n k space on

t o w h i c h E u r o p e m a p s its o w n ' s p i r i t u a l ' n e u r o s i s even as it

materially plunders it. E d w a r d S a i d observes t h a t C o n r a d ' s ' t r a g i c l i m i t a t i o n ' w a s t h a t , w h i l e b e i n g a w a r e t h a t i m p e r i a l i s m i n v o l v e d b r u t a l e x p l o i t a t i o n , he w a s so m u c h a c r e a t u r e o f his t i m e t h a t he ' c o u l d n o t t h e n c o n c l u d e t h a t i m p e r i a l i s m h a d t o e n d . . . C o n r a d c o u l d n o t g r a n t the n a t i v e s t h e i r f r e e d o m , despite h i s severe c r i t i q u e o f the i m p e r i a l i s m t h a t e n s l a v e d t h e m . ' S i m i l a r l y , his c h a r a c t e r s c o u l d n o t r e c o g n i z e

'that

w h a t they d i s a b l i n g l y a n d d i s p a r a g i n g l y s a w as a n o n - E u r o p e a n " d a r k n e s s " w a s i n f a c t a n o n - E u r o p e a n w o r l d r e s i s t i n g i m p e r i a l i s m so as o n e d a y t o r e g a i n s o v e r e i g n t y a n d i n d e p e n d e n c e ' (pp. 3 3 - 4 ) . S a i d w a n t s t o e x o n e r a t e C o n r a d t o a degree b y m a k i n g h i m a c r e a t u r e o f h i s t i m e . B u t the fact is - a n d this m a y m a k e h i m m o r e , n o t less, c u l p a b l e - C o n r a d c l a i m e d t o see m o r e t h a n S a i d a l l o w s . A s w i t h m a n y w r i t e r s b e f o r e h i m , the m e t a p h y s i c s o f o b l i v i o n r e n d e r q u e s t i o n s o f resistance v i r t u a l l y i r r e l e v a n t ; i n the face o f w h a t at the e n d o f the n o v e l he calls ' t h a t o b l i v i o n w h i c h is the last w o r d o f o u r c o m m o n f a t e ' (p. 105), s u c h t h i n g s f a l l i n t o i n s i g n i f i c a n c e despite o r r a t h e r b e c a u s e o f o u r a l l b e i n g r e c o n c i l e d t o this ' c o m m o n f a t e ' . C o n r a d h i m s e l f p u t it l i k e t h i s , i n a letter w r i t t e n i n J a n u a r y

1898,

the y e a r b e f o r e H e a r t o f D a r k n e s s w a s p u b l i s h e d : T h e fate of a humanity condemned ultimately to perish f r o m cold is not w o r t h t h i n k i n g about. If y o u take it to heart it becomes an unendurable tragedy. If you believe i n improvement you must weep, for t h e a t t a i n e d p e r f e c t i o n m u s t e n d i n c o l d , d a r k n e s s , a n d s i l e n c e . In a dispassionate view the ardour for reform, improvement for virtue, for knowledge, and even for beauty is only a vain sticking up for appearances as though one were anxious about the cut of one's clothes i n a community of blind men. Life knows us not and we do not k n o w life - we don't even k n o w our o w n thoughts . . . Faith is a myth and beliefs shift like mists on the shore; thoughts vanish; words, once pronounced, die; and the memory of yesterday is as shadowy as the hope of t o - m o r r o w . ( C o l l e c t e d L e t t e r s , II. 17; my emphasis) 205

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

In s u c h a w o r l d the a s p i r a t i o n s o f a r a d i c a l , r e f o r m i n g p r a x i s w o u l d be the m o s t r a d i c a l d e c e p t i o n o f a l l . A f r i c a d i s s o l v e s the r a t i o n a l e n o t just f o r the e x p l o i t a t i v e quest f o r i v o r y , b u t f o r a l l o t h e r m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f p r a x i s i n the ' F i r s t ' W o r l d a l o n g w i t h a n y a s p i r a t i o n f o r c h a n g e i n the T h i r d . N o t f o r the first t i m e , the ' s p i r i t u a l ' o b l i t e r a t i o n o f a l l d i f f e r e n c e leaves e x i s t i n g m a t e r i a l differences i n t a c t . A n d , i f this is o f f e n s i v e t o o u r m o d e r n c o m m i t m e n t to a n e m a n c i p a t o r y p o l i t i c s , it is a l s o true t h a t this is a p o l i t i c s w h i c h c a n n o t a f f o r d even t o c o n s i d e r the m e t a p h y s i c s o f o b l i v i o n . E a r l i e r I e x p l o r e d H e a r t o f D a r k n e s s i n r e l a t i o n to ideas c o n t e m p o r ary

w i t h it o r w h i c h it c o u l d be s a i d t o a n t i c i p a t e - p a r t i c u l a r l y ideas

o f d e g e n e r a t i o n . T h e r e are o t h e r respects i n w h i c h it is s i g n i f i c a n t l y o f its t i m e , o r c a n be s a i d t o a n t i c i p a t e m o d e r n i s t aesthetic d e v e l o p m e n t s . B u t this u n d e r l y i n g p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h a m e t a p h y s i c s o f o b l i v ion

w h i c h threatens o r p r o m i s e s a r a d i c a l erasure o f d i f f e r e n c e w a s

n o t n e w . A n d n o r h a d it yet f o u n d its m o s t e x t r e m e m o d e r n f o r m , w h i c h a r g u a b l y w a s F r e u d ' s t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e , itself d r a w i n g o n sources as recent as S c h o p e n h a u e r a n d as o l d as E m p e d o c l e s . A n d F r e u d , o f c o u r s e , l i k e C o n r a d , w a s d e e p l y s c e p t i c a l o f 'the a r d o u r for

r e f o r m ' , b e l i e v i n g t h a t M a r x i s m f a t a l l y i g n o r e d 'the u n t a m e a b l e

c h a r a c t e r o f h u m a n n a t u r e ' ( N e w I n t r o d u c t o r y L e c t u r e s , p . 219). A n d i n B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e he even suggested that the ' u n t i r i n g i m p u l s i o n t o w a r d s f u r t h e r p e r f e c t i o n ' is at h e a r t a f r u s t r a t e d d i s p l a c e m e n t o f the d e a t h d r i v e itself (p. 315). I n c e r t a i n respects, as w e s h a l l see, F r e u d m a y h a v e been r i g h t .

R e c l a i m i n g God In

the p r e f a c e to the first v o l u m e o f his c o l l e c t e d w o r k s (1846),

F e u e r b a c h gave t h i s s u c c i n c t a c c o u n t o f w h a t it m e a n s t o be a r a d i c a l humanist: he w h o says no more of me than that I am an atheist, says and knows n o t h i n g of me. T h e question as to the existence or non-existence of G o d , the opposition between theism and atheism belongs to the sixteenth and s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s but not to the nineteenth. I deny [negiere]

206

G o d . But that means for me that

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MARX,

MARCUSE

I deny the negation of m a n . In place of the illusory, fantastic, heavenly position of man w h i c h i n actual life necessarily leads to the degradation of man, and

I substitute the tangible, actual and consequently also the political social position of m a n k i n d . T h e question concerning the existence or

non-existence of G o d is for me nothing but the question concerning the existence or non-existence of m a n . (cited i n H o o k , p p . 222-3) F e u e r b a c h , i n d e b t e d t o H e g e l b u t p u s h i n g b e y o n d h i m , l a i d the g r o u n d f o r the m a t e r i a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s w h o s e i n f l u e n c e o n the m o d e r n w o r l d has been i n e s t i m a b l e . I n t h a t p h i l o s o p h y , G o d is d i s p l a c e d b y m a n . O r r a t h e r , G o d , h a v i n g been d i s c o v e r e d t o be m a d e i n m a n ' s i m a g e , is t a k e n b a c k i n t o m a n . T h i s is the e x h i l a r a t i n g a r g u m e n t o f F e u e r b a c h ' s T h e E s s e n c e o f C h r i s t i a n i t y (1841): ' A l l the a t t r i b u t e s o f the d i v i n e n a t u r e are, t h e r e f o r e , a t t r i b u t e s o f the h u m a n n a t u r e . ' R e l i g i o n arises w h e n m a n ' p r o j e c t s h i s b e i n g i n t o o b j e c t i v i t y , and

t h e n a g a i n m a k e s h i m s e l f a n o b j e c t t o this p r o j e c t e d i m a g e o f

h i m s e l f t h u s c o n v e r t e d i n t o a s u b j e c t ' (pp. 3 3 - 4 ) . F e u e r b a c h denies the f u n d a m e n t a l d u a l i s m w h i c h regards G o d as i n f i n i t e , p e r f e c t , e t e r n a l , h o l y , a n d m a n as finite, i m p e r f e c t , m o r t a l , s i n f u l . N o t o n l y is m a n n o t d e f i n e d b y the i n f e r i o r t e r m s o f this b i n a r y o p p o s i t i o n , b u t , at h i s m o s t e x a l t e d , he is w o r t h y o f b e i n g d e s c r i b e d b y its s u p e r i o r t e r m s . T h e p u r e , perfect d i v i n e n a t u r e is r e a l l y o n l y the c o n s c i o u s n e s s w h i c h the u n d e r s t a n d i n g has o f its o w n p e r f e c t i o n ; i n t e l l i g e n c e i n a n d f o r itself is the highest f o r m o f u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n d r e a s o n i n g — it is free o f d e s i r e , w a n t a n d p a s s i o n , a n d f o r t h a t r e a s o n it has n o w e a k n e s s o r d e f i c i e n c y (pp. 33—4). I n s h o r t — a n d t h i s is the c r u c i a l p o i n t - ' G o d is the highest s u b j e c t i v i t y o f m a n a b s t r a c t e d f r o m h i m s e l f . . . G o d i s , p e r se, h i s r e l i n q u i s h e d s e l f (pp. 14,

29-31).

T h e E s s e n c e o f C h r i s t i a n i t y was a controversial but h i g h l y successful b o o k , g o i n g t h r o u g h three e d i t i o n s i n seven years a n d c o n t r i b u t i n g t o Feuerbach's

r e p u t a t i o n : he w a s p e r h a p s the m o s t w e l l - k n o w n a n d

w i d e l y r e a d p h i l o s o p h e r i n G e r m a n y i n the 1840s. H e b e c a m e a n i m p o r t a n t influence for m a n y - most f a m o u s l y K a r l M a r x , but also ( a m o n g others) N i e t z s c h e , K i e r k e g a a r d , a g e n e r a t i o n o f e x i s t e n t i a l i s t philosophers, a n d possibly F r e u d . W e might expect that, read n o w , t h i s b o o k w o u l d s t r i k e us as a n u n c o n t r o v e r s i a l p r e c u r s o r o f a p h i l o s o p h y t h a t has b e c o m e f a m i l i a r a n d e v e n , f r o m the p o i n t o f v i e w o f

207

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CULTURE

the a n t i - h u m a n i s m o f o u r o w n t i m e s , s o m e w h a t c o m p l a c e n t - c e r t a i n l y n o t s c a n d a l o u s . In fact F e u e r b a c h ' s h u m a n i s m w a s m o r e c o m p l i c a t e d a n d s i g n i f i c a n t t h a n this a l l o w s , n o t least i n w h a t m i g h t p a r a d o x i c a l l y be c a l l e d its a n t i - h u m a n i s m , o r at least its a n t i - i n d i v i d u a l i s m . F e u e r b a c h r e m a i n s r e l e v a n t , a n d n o w h e r e m o r e so t h a n i n his a c c o u n t o f d e a t h , w h i c h is o f t e n o m i t t e d f r o m the p h i l o s o p h i c a l n a r r a t i v e . T o t h i n k o f h u m a n i s m o n l y as the p h i l o s o p h y that t a m e s , d e m y s t i f i e s a n d r a t i o n a l i z e s d e a t h f o r the m o d e r n w o r l d , a n d w h i c h d e l i v e r s t o s e c u l a r i s m the i d e o l o g y o f a n i n t e g r a t e d , self-sufficient i n d i v i d u a l , is wrong.

Feuerbach's

Thoughts on Death

In 1830, eleven years b e f o r e T h e E s s e n c e o f C h r i s t i a n i t y ,

Feuerbach

h a d p u b l i s h e d a n o n y m o u s l y a n o t h e r , even m o r e c o n t r o v e r s i a l , b o o k : T h o u g h t s o n D e a t h a n d I m m o r t a l i t y . It w a s seized f r o m b o o k s h o p s b y censors, a n d w h e n it b e c a m e k n o w n t h a t F e u e r b a c h w a s its a u t h o r his a c a d e m i c career w a s effectively r u i n e d . T o d a y it is o f t e n i g n o r e d b y those w h o w r i t e a b o u t h i m . In this b o o k F e u e r b a c h does w i t h d e a t h w h a t he w a s later to d o w i t h G o d : he i n c o r p o r a t e s it i n t o m a n . D e a t h is n o t a n e x t e r n a l l a w o f n a t u r e , a n d n o r is it the e n d o f h u m a n f r e e d o m . R a t h e r , it is the c o n d i t i o n a n d g r o u n d o f that f r e e d o m : ' y o u die because y o u are a free, t h i n k i n g , c o n s c i o u s b e i n g . . . D e a t h c o m e s o n l y f r o m S p i r i t , f r o m f r e e d o m . T h e g r o u n d o f y o u r life is t h a t c o n s c i o u s n e s s a n d d i v i s i o n is a l s o the true g r o u n d a n d o r i g i n o f y o u r d e a t h ' (p.

III).

F e u e r b a c h i n a u g u r a t e s a r a d i c a l h u m a n i s m that does n o t just accept d e a t h i n the sense o f t r y i n g to t a m e i t , b u t , u n d e r the i n f l u e n c e o f H e g e l , r e i n c o r p o r a t e s it i n t o b e i n g . It echoes the e a r l y C h r i s t i a n i d e a t h a t d e a t h is the i n h e r e n t c o n d i t i o n o f l i f e , r a t h e r t h a n t h a t w h i c h defeats it f r o m w i t h o u t , w h i l e o b l i t e r a t i n g the C h r i s t i a n d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n the finite, f a l l e n c o n d i t i o n o f m a n (the b r e e d i n g - g r o u n d f o r death) a n d the s p i r i t w h i c h escapes d e a t h ; n o w s p i r i t b e c o m e s the g r o u n d o f d e a t h (p. 113). D e a t h is the s e d u c t i v e , i n t r i n s i c c o n d i t i o n o f b e i n g ; as F e u e r b a c h p u t s it elsewhere, i n p o e t i c f o r m , d e a t h is ' i n y o u r very m a r r o w ' : 208

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Death does disclose the ground of being Being is but i n death revealed, A n d is, therefore, i n death fulfilled. (cited i n C h o r o n , D e a t h a n d W e s t e r n T h o u g h t , p p . 194, 196) D e a t h is a l s o e r o t i c i z e d : O h death! I cannot wrench myself free f r o m the sweet consideration of your soft essence, so i n w a r d l y fused w i t h my o w n ! Gentle m i r r o r of the Spirit, reflected splendour of my o w n essence! ( T h o u g h t s , p. 112) A s he p u t s it i n the p o e m R e i m v e r s e a u f d e n T o d (1830), 'I a m d r a w n a w a y f r o m this l i f e / So t h a t I s u r r e n d e r t o N o t h i n g n e s s ' ( C h o r o n , p . 194). L o v e , w h i c h is the s u p r e m e e x p r e s s i o n o f o n e ' s h u m a n i t y , a l s o r e q u i r e s d e a t h : ' L o v e w o u l d n o t be c o m p l e t e i f d e a t h d i d n o t exist . . . d e a t h is t h u s the u l t i m a t e sacrifice o f r e c o n c i l i a t i o n , the u l t i m a t e v e r i f i c a t i o n o f l o v e ' ( T h o u g h t s , p . 125). I n f a c t d e a t h a n d l o v e are i n e x t r i c a b l y b o u n d t o g e t h e r ; there is i n s i d e us a d e a t h t h a t is ' t r a p p e d a n d b o u n d (for t h e b i n d i n g , b o u n d , a n d c o n s t r a i n e d

death

o f t h e s e l f i s l o v e ) ' , a n d this i n n e r d e a t h 'is o n l y f r e e d , i s o l a t e d , a n d u n b o u n d i n e x t e r n a l , sensible d e a t h . . . W h a t is the s o u r c e o f d e a t h if it is n o t y o u r i n m o s t r e a l i t y ? ' (p. 127; m y e m p h a s i s ) .

The

disappearance

o f the individual

F e u e r b a c h ' s p h i l o s o p h y is c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y h u m a n i s t i n his c o n c e r n t o r e s t o r e u n i t y w h e r e he d i s c e r n s d i v i s i o n . H e o n c e c o n c e d e d

that,

' d o w n t o the s m a l l e s t d e t a i l , even m y senses agree w i t h this i n n e r f e e l i n g f o r the u n d i v i d e d , f o r t h a t w h i c h is at o n e w i t h i t s e l f

(cited

i n H o o k , p . 251). A g a i n , the i n f l u e n c e o f H e g e l is a p p a r e n t . (It has b e e n s a i d t h a t F e u e r b a c h w a s H e g e l ' s fate.) B u t , i n this d r i v e t o m a k e man

the f o c u s f o r this n e w u n i t y , F e u e r b a c h i n c o r p o r a t e s so m u c h

i n t o ' h i m ' t h a t he stores u p a n e v e n greater p o t e n t i a l f o r i n s t a b i l i t y . In

Thoughts

o n D e a t h he a l s o d e p l o y s the H e g e l i a n n o t i o n s

of

t o t a l i t y i n a w a y w h i c h e n t a i l s subjective d e a t h . T h u s h u m a n i t y is

209

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a t o t a l i t y w h o s e 'essential u n i t y is the i n n e r essential n e g a t i o n

of

i n d i v i d u a l s ' ; a n d , a n t i c i p a t i n g N i e t z s c h e , F e u e r b a c h declares t h a t m o r t a l i t y , d e c a y , c h a n g e , m u t a b i l i t y a n d even t i m e itself - the d e t r i t u s o f d e a t h - are n o t h i n g b u t the e x p r e s s i o n o f the u n i t y o f s p i r i t , t h a t i s , ' n o t h i n g b u t . . . the f u r o r d i v i n u s , the S p i r i t that sweeps a w a y a n d i n s p i r e s the w o r l d i n the s t r e a m o f its o w n i n s p i r a t i o n ' . H i s t o r y is o n l y the m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f the same (p. 130). E v e n l o v e r e q u i r e s the n e g a t i o n a n d ' c o n t i n u o u s r a t i f i c a t i o n o f the n o t h i n g n e s s o f [the] s e l f , w h i c h is itself a n a c c e p t a n c e o f d e a t h -

'the t o t a l a n d

complete

s u r r e n d e r o f the s e l f (pp. 1 2 5 - 6 ) . T h i s is a h u m a n i s m w h i c h e m b r a c e s d e a t h as its o w n n a t u r e , its o w n t r u t h , a n d even goes s o m e w a y t o a b o l i s h i n g the i n d i v i d u a l i s m o n w h i c h it f o u n d s itself. A t its m o s t a d v e n t u r o u s , h u m a n i s m is a p h i l o s o p h y o f egoistic a p p r o p r i a t i o n w h e r e b y the i n d i v i d u a l c o n s c i o u s n e s s is e x p a n d e d t o i n c l u d e w h a t w a s h i t h e r t o b y d e f i n i t i o n e x c l u d e d f r o m it - a process o f p s y c h i c i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h a n d i n c o r p o r a t i o n o f the e x c l u d e d , the o r i g i n s o f w h i c h w e r e i n R e n a i s s a n c e h u m a n i s m , a n d w h i c h grants r a d i c a l n e w p o t e n t i a l i t i e s t o the h u m a n a n d t h e r e b y necessarily d e s t a b i l i z e s the more conservative humanist project for a subjectivity g r o u n d e d i n a stable, u n c h a n g i n g essence. F e u e r b a c h finds i n H e g e l a j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r his o w n p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h , a n d f o r d i s s o l v i n g G o d b a c k i n t o m a n i n a w a y w h i c h , as w e s h a l l s h o r t l y see, p r o f o u n d l y enables the e m e r g i n g p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s . B u t d e a t h a n d p r a x i s p u l l i n d i f f e r e n t d i r e c t i o n s , to say the least. In the p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s there is a n i n e v i t a b l e a m n e s i a w i t h r e g a r d t o d e a t h . M a y b e this is w h y T h e E s s e n c e o f C h r i s t i a n i t y h a r d l y m e n t i o n s t h a t p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h d e a t h w h i c h is so c e n t r a l t o Thoughts

o n D e a t h . F e u e r b a c h , the f o u n d e r o f the m o d e r n p h i l o s o p h y

o f p r a x i s , prefigures its s u b s e q u e n t h i s t o r y i n b e i n g steeped i n a n a t t i t u d e t o d e a t h w h i c h that p h i l o s o p h y w o u l d d i s o w n yet never get free of; the d e a t h w h i c h p r a x i s t r a n s c e n d s r e m a i n s i m m a n e n t w i t h i n it. T h u s M a r c u s e , m o r e t h a n a c e n t u r y later, severely c o n d e m n s the death-obsessiveness o f W e s t e r n p h i l o s o p h y - a n d does so i n the n a m e o f a p r a x i s m o r e r a d i c a l t h a n F e u e r b a c h ' s - a n d yet r e m a i n s f a s c i n a t e d by w h a t he r e p u d i a t e s , a n d o n e o f his m o s t w e l l - k n o w n w o r k s , E r o s a n d C i v i l i z a t i o n (1955), d i s p l a y s a f a s c i n a t i o n w i t h d e a t h n o t d i s s i m i l a r t o F e u e r b a c h ' s . B u t first, M a r x . 210

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M a r x : p r a x i s and r e v o l u t i o n ' M a r x . . . neglects the theme of death . . . (Kojève, ' T h e Idea of D e a t h ' , p. 156, n . 9) F o r F e u e r b a c h , a l l the l i m i t l e s s q u a l i t i e s a t t r i b u t e d t o G o d are i n f a c t t h o s e o f the species m a n . I n the i n d i v i d u a l these q u a l i t i e s are l i m i t e d , a n d the e x p e r i e n c e o f t h a t l i m i t a t i o n is p a i n f u l . So w e c o m p e n s a t e f o r the l a c k w e feel b y i m a g i n i n g its f u l f i l m e n t i n G o d , w h o is the i d e a o r essence o f the species c o n c e i v e d i n i n d i v i d u a l , b u t

omnipotent,

f o r m . T o u n d e r s t a n d the h u m a n p s y c h o l o g y w h i c h has c r e a t e d G o d is t o be r e a d y t o r e - i d e n t i f y w i t h h u m a n i t y r a t h e r t h a n G o d : M y life is b o u n d to a limited time; not so the life of humanity. T h e history of m a n k i n d consists i n nothing else than a continuous and progressive conquest of limits, w h i c h at a given time pass for the limits of humanity, and therefore for absolute insurmountable limits. But the future always unveils the fact that the alleged limits of the species were only limits of individuals. ( E s s e n c e , p p . 15Z-3) T h u s Feuerbach's transformation of religious pessimism into optim i s m , quietism into purpose, limit into potential. H i s identification o f a c t i v i t y a n d p r o d u c t i v i t y as the e x p r e s s i o n o f m a n ' s t r u e

nature

gets v e r y c l o s e t o p r a x i s , a n d p r o b a b l y c l o s e r t h a n M a r x w a s s u b s e q u e n t l y t o a l l o w ; here is F e u e r b a c h a g a i n : T h e idea of activity, of m a k i n g , of creation, is i n itself a divine idea; it is therefore unhesitatingly applied to G o d . In activity, man feels himself free, unlimited, happy; i n passivity, limited, oppressed, unhappy . . . the happiest, the most blissful activity is that w h i c h is productive, (p. 217) It is w o r t h t r y i n g t o r e c a p t u r e the e x h i l a r a t i o n o f a n i d e a w h i c h p r o m i s e d t o d i s s o l v e so m u c h o f the p a i n o f b e i n g , t o

overcome

a l i e n a t i o n a n d c o n t r a d i c t i o n , t o restore a g e n c y a n d r e d e e m loss i n the p r o s p e c t o f a better f u t u r e . T h e o l d p h i l o s o p h i c a l d r e a m o f i n t e g r a t i n g i d e n t i t y a n d a c t i v i t y , b e i n g a n d d o i n g , s e e m e d at last p o s s i b l e i n a r a d i c a l l y d e m y s t i f i e d f o r m , g i v e n the n e w c o n v i c t i o n t h a t the i n a d e q u a c y o f the p r e s e n t is a c o n t i n g e n t a n d c h a n g e a b l e state o f a f f a i r s

211

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a n d n o t a n e t e r n a l l y o r n a t u r a l l y u n a l t e r a b l e o n e . A n d , just as F e u e r b a c h takes G o d b a c k i n t o m a n a n d r a d i c a l l y revises o u r u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f b o t h , so the p r o c e s s o f c h a n g e ceases to be the negative, d e f e a t i n g a n d c o r r o s i v e a c t i o n o f m u t a b i l i t y , o v e r w h i c h m a n has n o p o w e r , a n d w h i c h m e a n s t o h i m o n l y loss a n d d e c l i n e ; it b e c o m e s i n s t e a d a n e m p o w e r i n g p o t e n t i a l f o r l i b e r a t i o n a n d r e n e w a l . D e s i r e realizes itself t h r o u g h t r a n s f o r m a t i o n r a t h e r t h a n p o s s e s s i o n , a n d m a n is n o w c o n c e i v e d i n t e r m s o f his c a p a c i t y f o r s o c i a l l y t r a n s f o r m a t i v e a c t i v i t y ; his v e r y essence n o w lies i n p r a x i s . E a r l i e r w e s a w S h a k e s p e a r e a n d J o h n D o n n e u s i n g the w o r d ' r e v o l u t i o n ' to signify h u m a n powerlessness a n d insignificance i n a w o r l d g o v e r n e d b y m u t a b i l i t y ( C h a p t e r 5). I n H e n r y I V it refers t o

the

o b l i t e r a t i n g effects o f t i m e a n d c h a n g e o n a n a l m o s t c o s m i c scale: . . . see the revolution of the times M a k e mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea . . . D o n n e also uses the w o r d ' r e v o l u t i o n ' t o refer to the m o t i o n

of

d i s s o l u t i o n a n d d i s p e r s a l , b u t n o w the f o c u s is the r o t t i n g o f the i n d i v i d u a l b o d y i n the g r a v e . B u t the p r o c e s s does n o t stop t h e r e ; first the b o d y is r e d u c e d t o d u s t ; t h e n , as the grave itself d i s i n t e g r a t e s , t h a t d u s t is b l o w n a b r o a d , n o w m i n g l i n g w i t h the dust o f the h i g h w a y , the d u n g h i l l , the p u d d l e a n d the p o n d , ' s u c h are the r e v o l u t i o n o f the g r a v e s ' . H a m l e t also uses the w o r d i n r e l a t i o n t o the g r a v e , w h i l e r e g a r d i n g a s k u l l recently d u g f r o m it ( V . i . 8 9 ) . A n d i n A n t o n y

and

C l e o p a t r a the w o r d refers t o the u n c o n t r o l l a b l e m u t a b i l i t y o f desire itself. A n t o n y has just been t o l d t h a t his w i f e is d e a d : The present pleasure, By revolution l o w ' r i n g , does become The opposite of itself . . . (I.ii.117-19) S u c h uses c o u l d n o t be f u r t h e r f r o m the m o d e r n sense o f r e v o l u t i o n as the f o c u s i n g o f a c o l l e c t i v e h u m a n agency i n the c a l c u l a t e d overt h r o w o f a n e x i s t i n g s o c i a l o r d e r a n d the r e p l a c i n g o f it w i t h a n e w one. 212

PRAXIS A N D EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H , M A R X ,

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B e h i n d this l i n g u i s t i c c h a n g e is a r e v o l u t i o n a r y shift i n the u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f c h a n g e itself. N o w c h a n g e is r e g a r d e d as the d y n a m i c p r i n c i p l e o f h u m a n k i n d ; w e c h a n g e the w o r l d , a n d i n t h a t

self-same

p r o c e s s w e c h a n g e o u r s e l v e s , because t o c h a n g e the w o r l d is t o c h a n g e ourselves: T h e coincidence of the changing of circumstances and of h u m a n activity or self-changing can only be grasped and rationally understood as revolutionary practice. ( M a r x , T h e s e s o n F e u e r b a c h 3; Bottomore and R u b e l , p. 83) T h e o l d n o t i o n o f the i n d i v i d u a l has t o g o : w h e r e a s , a c c o r d i n g t o M a r x , Feuerbach h a d postulated 'an abstract — i s o l a t e d — h u m a n i n d i v i d u a l ' , a n d c o n c e i v e d o f the n a t u r e o f m a n 'as a n i n n e r a n d m u t e u n i v e r s a l q u a l i t y ' , the r e a l i t y is t h a t 'the essence o f m a n is n o t a n abstraction inherent i n each particular i n d i v i d u a l . T h e real nature of man pp.

is the t o t a l i t y o f s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s ' (Thesis 6; B o t t o m o r e a n d R u b e l , 83-4).

T h e p h i l o s o p h i c a l r e f l e c t i o n w h i c h finds d e a t h , desire a n d m u t a b i l i t y t o be i n h e r e n t l y a l i e n a t i n g is a b o l i s h e d as a n e r r o r ; i n d e e d , says M a r x , s u c h ' p h i l o s o p h y is n o t h i n g m o r e t h a n r e l i g i o n b r o u g h t i n t o t h o u g h t . . . e q u a l l y t o be c o n d e m n e d as a n o t h e r f o r m a n d m o d e o f e x i s t e n c e of h u m a n alienation' (Bottomore and R u b e l , p p . 8 4 - 5 ) . W i t h o u t death there w o u l d be n o p h i l o s o p h y - so s a i d o n e p h i l o s o p h e r after a n o t h e r i n the W e s t e r n t r a d i t i o n . N o w , w i t h p r a x i s , there is n o n e e d o f t h e i r k i n d o f p h i l o s o p h y , o r the m e d i t a t i o n o n d e a t h w h i c h p r o d u c e d i t : All

social life is essentially p r a c t i c a l . A l l the mysteries w h i c h lead theory

towards mysticisms find their rational solution i n h u m a n practice and i n the comprehension of this practice. (Thesis 8; Bottomore and R u b e l , p. 84) F e u e r b a c h declares t h a t the species has n o l i m i t s -

w h i c h means,

a m o n g o t h e r t h i n g s , t h a t it does n o t k n o w d e a t h . T h i s is a n o t h e r r e a s o n w h y , i n the m o v e f r o m t h e o l o g y t o a n t h r o p o l o g y w h i c h T h e E s s e n c e o f C h r i s t i a n i t y i n a u g u r a t e s , the p h i l o s o p h i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e o f d e a t h recedes a l m o s t t o the p o i n t o f d i s a p p e a r i n g . P o l i t i c a l l y s p e a k i n g , d e a t h has b e c o m e s o c i a l i z e d , a l m o s t r e d u n d a n t , since a k i n d o f i m m o r t a l i t y is a v a i l a b l e t h r o u g h active i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h the species. B u t desire a n d i d e n t i t y are n o w n o t o n l y t i e d to t i m e b u t v i r t u a l l y coextensive w i t h it. Feuerbach said that 213

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T h e more empty life is, the fuller, more concrete is G o d . T h e impoverishing of the real w o r l d , and the enriching of G o d , is one act. O n l y the poor man has a rich G o d . G o d s p r i n g s o u t of t h e f e e l i n g of a w a n t . ( E s s e n c e , p, 73; my emphasis) In the m a t e r i a l i s t t r a d i t i o n , to d e m y s t i f y G o d a n d the s o c i a l o r d e r w h i c h r e l i g i o n t y p i c a l l y m y s t i f i e d (for i n s t a n c e , b y r e g a r d i n g it as d i v i n e l y s a n c t i o n e d a n d t h e r e f o r e u n a l t e r a b l e ) w a s to m a k e the w a n t o f w h i c h F e u e r b a c h here speaks h u m a n e l y r e a l i z a b l e i n t i m e . B u t , as M a r x w e l l k n e w , the v e r y process o f m e e t i n g needs generates n e w ones. T o c o m m i t desire so c o m p l e t e l y t o t i m e intensifies, even as it relieves, the d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n w h i c h h i t h e r t o h a d seemed its i n a l i e n a b l e , unalterable condition.

Social In

T h eEighteenth

death

Brumaire o f Louis

Bonaparte

M a r x famously

declares t h a t m a n m a k e s h i s t o r y b u t n o t i n c o n d i t i o n s o f his o w n c h o o s i n g . O n e r e a s o n w h y those c o n d i t i o n s p r o v e d i f f i c u l t t o negotiate is because they i n c l u d e the ' d e a d ' i n h e r i t a n c e o f the past: 'the t r a d i t i o n o f a l l the d e a d g e n e r a t i o n s w e i g h s l i k e a n i g h t m a r e o n the b r a i n o f the l i v i n g ' . A n d just at t h a t m o m e n t w h e n m e n seem m o s t c a p a b l e o f ' r e v o l u t i o n i z i n g themselves a n d t h i n g s ' they f a l l b a c k o n these past t r a d i t i o n s a n d express themselves t h r o u g h t h e m . I n past r e v o l u t i o n a r y s i t u a t i o n s this w a s n o t necessarily b a d : the awakening of the dead i n those revolutions served the purpose of glorifying the new struggles . . . of magnifying the given task i n imagination, not of fleeing from its solution i n reality; of finding once more the spirit of revolution, not of m a k i n g its ghost walk about again. ( S e l e c t e d W o r k s , pp. 9 7 - 8 ) But,

c o n t i n u e s M a r x , i n F r a n c e i n 1848 s o m e t h i n g l i k e the reverse

h a p p e n e d : r e v o l u t i o n a r y f e r v o u r w a s defeated by this r e l a p s i n g b a c k i n t o the past. ' A n entire p e o p l e , w h i c h h a d i m a g i n e d t h a t b y m e a n s o f a r e v o l u t i o n it h a d i m p a r t e d to itself a n a c c e l e r a t e d p o w e r o f m o t i o n , s u d d e n l y finds itself set b a c k i n a d e f u n c t e p o c h . ' W h a t h a d

214

PRAXIS AND EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H , M A R X ,

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seemed ' l o n g d e c a y e d ' c a m e b a c k t o l i f e . M o d e r n r e v o l u t i o n m u s t n o l o n g e r l o o k t o the p a s t b u t t o the f u t u r e : It cannot begin w i t h itself before it has stripped off all superstition i n regard to the past . . . In order to arrive at its o w n content, the revolution of the nineteenth century must let the dead bury their dead. (pp. 98—9) D e a t h is here s h i f t e d f r o m the f u t u r e t o the p a s t - t o the s t i l l a c t i v e t r a d i t i o n s o f the d e a d w h i c h m a y yet defeat r e v o l u t i o n a n d p r a x i s . D e a t h is s o c i a l i z e d - as s o m e t h i n g s t i l l e x i s t i n g w i t h i n the d o m a i n o f the s o c i a l w h i c h p u l l s us b a c k t o a d e a d p a s t a n d k i l l s o f f o u r p o t e n t i a l f o r r e v o l u t i o n a r y c h a n g e . W h a t is d e a d is s t i l l a l i v e , a n d p e r n i c i o u s l y s o . It b e c o m e s necessary f o r p r a x i s t o k i l l o f f this p a s t . T h i s is e v e n m o r e m a r k e d i n the M a r x i s t a c c o u n t o f the l u m p e n p r o letariat. Shakespeare's C o r i o l a n u s was fairly representative of past and

f u t u r e w a y s o f t h i n k i n g w h e n he a p p r o a c h e d the ' m u t a b l e , r a n k

s c e n t e d ' p l e b i a n s as a t h r e a t t o the State ( C o r i o l a n u s , III.i.65). M a r x and

E n g e l s r e g a r d the l u m p e n p r o l e t a r i a t s i m i l a r l y , e x c e p t t h a t they

are n o w a t h r e a t t o the r e v o l u t i o n a r y o v e r t h r o w o f the State a n d as s u c h e v e n m o r e d a n g e r o u s l y m u t a b l e . I n the M a r x i s t t h e o r y

of

r e v o l u t i o n , a l l e x i s t i n g classes, w i t h the e x c e p t i o n o f the p r o l e t a r i a t , are s a i d t o u n d e r g o a p r o c e s s o f d i s s o l u t i o n ' w h e r e b y they

'decay

and

Works,

c

finally

d i s a p p e a r i n the face o f M o d e r n I n d u s t r y ' ( S e l e c t e d

p . 44). N o t so the l u m p e n p r o l e t a r i a t , w h o are n o t a class so m u c h as a m o t l e y , u p r o o t e d a n d , i n m a n y instances, itinerant mass of people who,

d u r i n g this a n t i c i p a t e d process o f d i s s o l u t i o n , b e c o m e u n a t t a c h e d

and

s u s c e p t i b l e t o the f o r c e s o f r e a c t i o n . M a r x ' s d e s c r i p t i o n o f this

g r o u p c l e a r l y expresses the i d e a o f d e g e n e r a t i o n ;

this is h o w

d e s c r i b e d the l u m p e n p r o l e t a r i a t i n the C o m m u n i s t M a n i f e s t o

he

(1848):

T h e 'dangerous class', the social scum, that passively rotting mass t h r o w n off by the lowest layers of o l d society, may, here and there, be swept into the movement by a proletarian revolution; its conditions i n life, however, prepare it far more for the part of a bribed t o o l of reactionary intrigue. ( S e l e c t e d W o r k s , p. 44) In T h e E i g h t e e n t h B r u m a i r e M a r x tells us t h a t this g r o u p i n c l u d e s decayed roues, v a g a b o n d s , discharged soldiers a n d jailbirds, escaped galley

slaves,

swindlers,

mountebanks, 215

pickpockets,

tricksters,

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g a m b l e r s , beggars - ' i n s h o r t , the w h o l e i n d e f i n i t e , d i s i n t e g r a t e d mass . . . [the] s c u m , o f f a l , refuse o f a l l classes'

(p. 138). E n g e l s , i n the

p r e f a c e t o T h e F e a s a n t W a r i n G e r m a n y , also describes this ' s c u m o f d e p r a v e d elements

f r o m a l l classes'

as e s p e c i a l l y d a n g e r o u s — so

m u c h so t h a t a n y leader o f the w o r k e r s w h o uses the services o f the l u m p e n p r o l e t a r i a t p r o v e s h i m s e l f b y that a c t i o n a l o n e a t r a i t o r t o the m o v e m e n t (p. 243). A s w e h a v e seen, the r e v o l u t i o n a r y v i s i o n r e c o n c e p t u a l i z e s the v e r y i d e a o f c h a n g e . H e r e is a n o t h e r d e v e l o p m e n t w h e r e b y the e a r l i e r negative ideas a t t a c h i n g t o c h a n g e (the t r a n s i e n t , the p r o t e a n , the s h i f t i n g , the d e c a y i n g a n d d e c l i n i n g - i n a w o r d , the m u t a b l e ) are, v i a the r h e t o r i c o f d e g e n e r a t i o n , a l s o s o c i a l i z e d a n d , i r o n i c a l l y , n o w a t t r i b u t e d t o those forces p r e v e n t i n g c h a n g e . E n g e l s speaks o f G e r m a n y i n the late eighteenth a n d e a r l y n i n e t e e n t h centuries i n l a n g u a g e even m o r e r e s o n a n t o f d e g e n e r a t i o n : it was all one living mass of putrefaction and repulsive decay . . . Everything w o r n out, crumbling d o w n , going fast to ruin, and not even the slightest hope of a beneficial change, n o t e v e n s o m u c h s t r e n g t h i n t h e n a t i o n as m i g h t h a v e sufficed

f o r c a r r y i n g a w a y t h e p u t r i d c o r p s e s of d e a d i n s t i t u t i o n s , (from

T h e S t a t e of G e r m a n y , cited i n Z h d a n o v , p. 95; my emphasis)

2

I've r e m a r k e d a l r e a d y h o w a m b i t i o u s p r o g r a m m e s o f s o c i a l c h a n g e o r s o c i a l c o n t r o l s e e m i n g l y n e e d the r h e t o r i c o f s o c i a l d e a t h i n o r d e r to i d e n t i f y a n d e l i m i n a t e those elements w i t h i n the s o c i a l w h i c h p r o v e r e c a l c i t r a n t . T h e w a y s i n w h i c h this process o c c u r s h a v e never been s i m p l e . T h o s e l i k e F r e u d a t t r i b u t e the f a i l u r e o f r e v o l u t i o n a r y creeds l i k e c o m m u n i s m t o the r e c a l c i t r a n c e o f h u m a n n a t u r e ; i n p a r t i c u l a r , s u c h creeds i g n o r e a n i n e r a d i c a b l e h u m a n i m p u l s e to a g g r e s s i o n a n d hatred: It is always possible to bind together a considerable number of people i n love, so long as there are other people left over to receive the manifestations of their aggressiveness . . . W h e n once the Apostle Paul had posited universal love between men as the foundation of his Christian community, extreme intolerance on the part of Christendom towards those who remained outside it became the inevitable consequence. ( C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s , p. 305) L i k e w i s e , a d d s F r e u d - a n d he is w r i t i n g this i n 1929 - a n t i - S e m i t i s m w a s the c o m p l e m e n t o f the d r e a m o f a G e r m a n i c w o r l d - d o m i n i o n , 216

PRAXIS AND EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H ,

and

MARX,

MARCUSE

the p e r s e c u t i o n o f the b o u r g o i s i e i n R u s s i a w a s the c o m p l e m e n t

o f the c o m m u n i s t i d e a l . B u t there is s o m e t h i n g else c o n t r i b u t i n g t o the v i o l e n c e w h i c h he d e s c r i b e s , a n d a n o t h e r r e a s o n w h y ' b o u n d ' h u m a n g r o u p i n g s n e e d o u t s i d e r s , d i s s i d e n t s , degenerates, r a c i a l o t h e r s and

the rest - F r e u d ' s ' o t h e r p e o p l e ' . It is n o t s i m p l y t h a t h u m a n

beings h a v e a c e r t a i n q u a n t i t y o f aggressiveness w h i c h , because they are f o r b i d d e n t o express it i n t e r n a l l y , they h a v e t o v e n t o n s o m e o n e , o r s o m e g r o u p , b e y o n d the b o u n d a r i e s o f t h e i r o w n s o c i e t y . It is a l s o m a n i f e s t l y ( a n d , a r g u a b l y , i n m o d e r n t i m e s i n c r e a s i n g l y ) the case t h a t r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r the p r o b l e m s a n d f a i l u r e s w i t h i n a p a r t i c u l a r c u l t u r e are d i s p l a c e d o n t o g r o u p s a n d i n d i v i d u a l s o u t s i d e , o r m a r g i n a l , o r e v e n i n t e r n a l t o i t . A n d the s t r o n g e r the b e l i e f t h a t the d i r e c t i o n o f h i s t o r y c a n be c o n t r o l l e d , a n d society r a d i c a l l y a l t e r e d t o c o m p l y w i t h a p r e c o n c e i v e d i d e a l , the m o r e necessary b e c o m e the i d e o l o g i c a l strategies w h i c h e n a b l e the d i s p l a c e m e n t o f f a i l u r e . It w o u l d be a b s u r d t o suggest t h a t a m o r e h u m a n e p o l i t i c s r e s u l t e d f r o m the e a r l i e r w a y s o f t h i n k i n g w h i c h r e g a r d e d the m o s t f u n d a m e n t a l h i s t o r i c a l c h a n g e s — 'the r e v o l u t i o n o f the t i m e s ' — as m o s t l y i f n o t e n t i r e l y b e y o n d h u m a n c o n t r o l . It is r a t h e r t h a t s o m e o f the d i v e r s e later c o n v i c t i o n s t h a t h i s t o r y c a n a n d s h o u l d be c o n t r o l l e d result i n strategies f o r the d i s p l a c e ment of failure w h i c h involve unprecedented violence.

Z h d a n o v and a r t i s t i c

degeneracy

O f the n u m e r o u s instances o f this i n recent h i s t o r y , m y e x a m p l e c o m e s f r o m S t a l i n i s m , a n d a series o f speeches g i v e n b y A . A . Z h d a n o v (1896-1948)

b e t w e e n 1934 a n d 1948. Z h d a n o v w a s a m e m b e r o f the

P o l i t i c a l B u r e a u o f the C e n t r a l C o m m i t t e e o f the B o l s h e v i k P a r t y , a n d a s i g n i f i c a n t p r o p a g a n d i s t f o r the c o m m u n i s t t h e o r y o f c u l t u r e . H i s speeches, t r a n s l a t e d i n 1950 as O n L i t e r a t u r e , M u s i c a n d contested

w h a t he a n d o t h e r l e a d i n g p a r t y m e m b e r s

Philosophy, regarded

as

r e a c t i o n a r y tendencies i n R u s s i a n art a n d c u l t u r e . In s o m e respects the t e r m s o f h i s a r g u m e n t h a v e b e c o m e c o m m o n p l a c e s o f the h i s t o r y o f S o v i e t r e a l i s m : s o c i a l i s t r e a l i s m is a d v o c a t e d o v e r a n d a b o v e W e s t e r n b o u r g e o i s aesthetic p r a c t i c e , w h i c h is s a i d t o be steeped i n f o r m a l i s m , art f o r a r t ' s s a k e , i n d i v i d u a l i s m , d e c a d e n c e a n d d e a t h . 217

DEATH,

D E S I R E A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

In the u n f o l d i n g o f h i s t o r y , the c a p i t a l i s t o r d e r -

especially

its

b o u r g e o i s c u l t u r e - is ' r o t t e n a n d d e c a y i n g ' (p. 48). T h a t is as it s h o u l d be, a n d w a s p r e d i c t e d . B u t i n its degenerate, e x h a u s t e d state it s t i l l exerts a p u l l ; i n f a c t - a n d this a g a i n b o r r o w s f r o m the d e g e n e r a t i o n i s t s - i n this d e c a y i n g p h a s e o f b o u r g e o i s o r d e r s o m e h o w b e c o m e s m o r e p e r n i c i o u s t h a n ever. T h o u g h c h r o n i c a l l y e n e r v a t e d a n d h i s t o r i c a l l y d o o m e d to e x t i n c t i o n , it s t i l l possesses the p o w e r t o c o r r u p t a n d defeat the n e w o r d e r w h i c h , a c c o r d i n g t o the t h e o r y , is i n e v i t a b l y a n d necessarily r e p l a c i n g i t . Z h d a n o v speaks r e p e a t e d l y o f a c a p i t a l i s t system a n d a b o u r g e o i s c u l t u r e w h i c h are - a n d these are a l l w o r d s he a c t u a l l y uses -

d y i n g , decaying, declining, decadent,

depraved,

p a t h o l o g i c a l a n d d e g e n e r a t i n g . T h e d e p l o r a b l e state o f the b o u r g e o i s o r d e r is e p i t o m i z e d by the f a c t t h a t its a r t i s t i c celebrities

include

elements o f the l u m p e n p r o l e t a r i a t - thieves, p r o s t i t u t e s , p i m p s a n d gangsters w h o p r e a c h a n art o f p e s s i m i s m . T h e F r e n c h w r i t e r J e a n G e n e t is s i n g l e d o u t f o r s p e c i a l m e n t i o n as the 'last w o r d ' o f b o u r g e o i s culture: Pimps and depraved criminals as philosophers - this is indeed the limit of decay and ruin. N e v e r t h e l e s s , t h e s e f o r c e s s t i l l h a v e life,

a r e still c a p a b l e o f

p o i s o n i n g t h e c o n s c i o u s n e s s of t h e m a s s e s . (pp. 1 2 - 1 3 , 26,109; my emphasis) A g a i n s t t h e m are p i t t e d the n e w r e v o l u t i o n a r y w r i t e r s o n the side o f l i f e , the p r o l e t a r i a t a n d r e v o l u t i o n - w r i t e r s w h o , i n S t a l i n ' s p r o f o u n d l y s i g n i f i c a n t w o r d s , w e r e t o be 'the engineers o f the h u m a n s o u l ' (pp. 15, 39). S p e a k i n g i n 1934, Z h d a n o v fears, h o w e v e r , t h a t these n e w w r i t e r s are n o t l i v i n g u p t o t h a t t a s k . ' O n the i d e o l o g i c a l f r o n t , serious . . . f a i l i n g s ' h a v e b e c o m e a p p a r e n t , c o m p e l l i n g the C e n t r a l C o m m i t t e e , o f w h i c h Z h d a n o v w a s a m e m b e r , t o 'interfere a n d

firmly

...

set

m a t t e r s r i g h t ' (pp. 3 9 - 4 0 ) . In the r e a l m o f aesthetic p r o d u c t i o n ' d i s o r d e r a n d a n a r c h y ' p r e v a i l , r e q u i r i n g a p u r g e . T h e n e w engineers o f the h u m a n s o u l are i n d a n g e r o f l a p s i n g b a c k i n t o the

decadent

aesthetic t h a t w a s d o m i n a n t i n p r e - r e v o l u t i o n a r y t i m e s a n d e p i t o m i z e d i n the w o r k o f A n n a A k h m a t o v a , a m e m b e r o f the A c m e i s t l i t e r a r y g r o u p , w h o c l u n g t o the ' d i s i n t e g r a t i n g b o u r g e o i s - a r i s t o c r a t i c i d e o l o g y ' . A k h m a t o v a is castigated

f o r her o b s e s s i o n

w i t h 'erotic

love

themes i n t e r w o v e n w i t h notes o f sadness, l o n g i n g , d e a t h , m y s t i c i s m , 218

PRAXIS A N D EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H ,

MARX,

MARCUSE

f a t a l i t y ' . Z h d a n o v finds i n her w o r k ' a sense o f f a t a l i t y (quite c o m p r e h e n s i b l e i n a d y i n g g r o u p ) , the d i s m a l t o n e s o f a d e a t h b e d hopelessness, m y s t i c a l e x p e r i e n c e s s h o t [sic] w i t h e r o t i c i s m ' a n d declares t h a t she is ' a l e f t - o v e r f r o m the w o r l d o f the o l d a r i s t o c r a c y n o w i r r e v o c a b l y p a s t a n d g o n e ' , t h a t class a n d the i n t e l l e c t u a l s w h o s u p p o r t e d it h a v i n g b e e n ' p i t c h e d i n t o the d u s t b i n o f h i s t o r y ' i n 1917 (pp. 2 6 , 29). H e r e , t h e n , the d e a t h - w i s h a n d the i n t e r a n i m a t i o n o f d e a t h a n d desire are ' e x p l a i n e d ' as the p r o d u c t o f a d y i n g class. W h a t angers Z h d a n o v is t h a t n o w , t w e n t y - n i n e years l a t e r , n e w interest is b e i n g s h o w n i n the w r i t i n g o f A k h m a t o v a . O n the o n e h a n d , she has n o t h i n g i n c o m m o n w i t h the p e o p l e ; o n the o t h e r , she is ' p o i s o n i n g ' t h e i r m i n d s , e s p e c i a l l y t h o s e o f the y o u n g , s e d u c i n g t h e m a w a y f r o m 'the b r o a d h i g h w a y o f social life a n d activity into a n a r r o w little w o r l d of personal experiences' c h a r a c t e r i z e d b y d e s p o n d e n c y . S u c h a r t i s t s , a n d t h o s e w h o p u b l i s h t h e m , are ' h e l p i n g o u r enemies t o c o r r u p t o u r y o u n g p e o p l e ' (P. 31)I n a speech g i v e n the f o l l o w i n g y e a r Z h d a n o v declares t h a t i n m u s i c t o o s o m e t h i n g s i m i l a r is h a p p e n i n g - a d e v i a t i o n f r o m ' n a t u r a l a n d h e a l t h y s t a n d a r d s ' t o w a r d s f o r m a l i s t , i n d i v i d u a l i s t , p a t h o l o g i c a l , elitist m u s i c w h i c h is t h r e a t e n i n g ' s p i r i t u a l s t e r i l i t y a n d a d e a d e n d ' . D e g e n e r a t i o n i s t t h i n k i n g is a g a i n p r e c i s e l y e v i d e n t w h e n he speaks o f a m u s i c w h i c h ' i g n o r e s the n o r m a l h u m a n e m o t i o n s a n d jars the m i n d a n d n e r v o u s s y s t e m ' , a n d o f the f a s h i o n a b l e theories b e h i n d it w h i c h t e a c h t h a t ' a p a t h o l o g i c a l c o n d i t i o n is a h i g h e r state, a n d t h a t s c h i z o p h r e n i c s a n d p a r a n o i a c s c a n a t t a i n s p i r i t u a l heights i n t h e i r r a v i n g s u n a t t a i n a b l e b y a n o r d i n a r y p e r s o n i n a n o r m a l state'. S u c h t h e o r i e s are c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f the ' d e c a y a n d c o r r u p t i o n o f b o u r g e o i s c u l t u r e ' a n d d i s t u r b 'the b a l a n c e o f m e n t a l a n d p h y s i o l o g i c a l f u n c t i o n s ' . H e f o l l o w s L e n i n i n c a l l i n g f o r ' a c l e a n s i n g o f the n a t i v e l a n g u a g e

of

f o r e i g n - b r e d i m p u r i t i e s ' , o f ' a l i e n b o u r g e o i s influences f r o m a b r o a d ' w h i c h sap the s t r e n g t h o f the p e o p l e (pp. 59, 6 6 - 8 , 7 0 - 7 4 ) .

The

struggle b e t w e e n v i t a l aesthetic f o r m s o n the side o f l i f e a n d degenerate o n e s o n the side o f d e c a y , r u i n a n d d e a t h , is so f u n d a m e n t a l t h a t it characterizes describes.

even

p h i l o s o p h y itself a n d the

historical reality

T h e y e a r b e f o r e h i s o w n d e a t h , i n a speech t o

it

Soviet

P h i l o s o p h i c a l W o r k e r s , Z h d a n o v asserts t h a t R u s s i a n p h i l o s o p h y t o o is i n d a n g e r o f s t a g n a t i o n , o f b e c o m i n g ' a d e a d a n d b a r r e n d o g m a ' . 219

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

He

i n t e r p r e t s the l a w o f d i a l e c t i c s as itself a struggle ' b e t w e e n the o l d

and

the n e w , b e t w e e n the d y i n g a n d the r i s i n g , b e t w e e n the d e c a y i n g

and

the d e v e l o p i n g ' (p. 107). Z h d a n o v , i n i t i a l l y a p o w e r f u l d e p u t y to S t a l i n , w a s i n v o l v e d i n the

v i o l e n t purges o f the 1930s. H e a s p i r e d to r e - e s t a b l i s h the p r i m a c y o f i d e o l o g y i n p a r t y life a n d the w i d e r c u l t u r e . W e r n e r H a h n c l a i m s t h a t , despite his r e p u t a t i o n f o r b e i n g m i l i t a n t l y o r t h o d o x , he w a s r e l a t i v e l y s p e a k i n g a m o d e r a t e , this b e i n g a f a c t o r i n his speedy d o w n f a l l i n 1948: he b e c a m e the v i c t i m o f the e x t r e m i s m w h i c h he a p p a r e n t l y cynically e x p l o i t e d w h i l e not actually s u p p o r t i n g . Stalin turned against and

d e s t r o y e d Z h d a n o v ' s f a c t i o n . O f f i c i a l l y d y i n g o f heart f a i l u r e

s u d d e n l y i n 1948, there is evidence t o suggest he w a s ' e r a d i c a t e d ' .

H e r b e r t M a r c u s e and t h e ideology

of

3

death

O t h e r w r i t e r s i n the m a t e r i a l i s t t r a d i t i o n w i l l go m u c h f u r t h e r t h a n Z h d a n o v , a r g u i n g t h a t the entire c a p i t a l i s t o r d e r t h r i v e s o n a n i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h . O n this v i e w , d e a t h (not u n l i k e G o d ) is r e g a r d e d as a r a d i c a l d e c e p t i o n i n w h i c h the b i o l o g i c a l f a c t o f d e a t h is m y s t i f i e d and

m i s c o n s t r u e d so as t o s u s t a i n a n d p e r p e t u a t e a repressive s o c i a l

o r d e r . H e r b e r t M a r c u s e offers a s u c c i n c t v e r s i o n o f this a r g u m e n t i n an

a r t i c l e p u b l i s h e d i n 1959 c a l l e d ' T h e I d e o l o g y o f D e a t h ' . It is a

r e p u d i a t i o n o f m u c h o f the w r i t i n g a n d p h i l o s o p h y w e h a v e so f a r been c o n s i d e r i n g . M a r c u s e c o n t e n d s that W e s t e r n t h o u g h t is steeped i n w h a t he calls 'the o n t o l o g i c a l a f f i r m a t i o n o f d e a t h ' ; this m a k e s d e a t h the t e l o s

of

l i f e , a n d i d e a l i z e s it as the s o u r c e o f u l t i m a t e m e a n i n g , f r e e d o m a n d e x i s t e n t i a l f u l f i l m e n t . D e a t h is elevated f r o m ' a b r u t e b i o l o g i c a l f a c t , p e r m e a t e d w i t h p a i n , h o r r o r , a n d d e s p a i r ' , t o a n o n t o l o g i c a l essence, and

i n a w a y w h i c h r e q u i r e s t h a t life be r e d e e m e d b y s o m e t h i n g o t h e r

t h a n i t s e l f . C o n v e r s e l y , the m a t e r i a l i s t d e m y s t i f i c a t i o n o f d e a t h - the 4

insistence that it is o n l y a b i o l o g i c a l necessity - e m b r a c e s a r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t c o n c e p t o f f r e e d o m , r o o t e d i n p r a x i s a n d the k n o w l e d g e t h a t ' l i f e is n o t a n d c a n n o t be r e d e e m e d b y a n y t h i n g o t h e r t h a n l i f e ' . T h e i m p e r a t i v e p o i n t is that p r a x i s r e q u i r e s t h e d e m y s t i f i c a t i o n o f d e a t h — e s p e c i a l l y o f d e a t h as m e t a p h y s i c a l necessity: 22O

PRAXIS A N D EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H , M A R X ,

MARCUSE

Necessity indicates lack of power: inability to change what is - the term is meaningful only as coterminus of freedom: the limit of freedom. Freed o m implies knowledge, cognition. Insight into necessity is the first step t o w a r d the dissolution of necessity, but comprehended necessity is not yet freedom. T h e latter requires progress f r o m theory to practice: actual conquest of those necessities w h i c h prevent or restrain the satisfaction of needs, (pp. 6 4 - 5 , 6 6 - 7 ) T h e i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h is the c o r o l l a r y o f the i d e o l o g y o f G o d , i n t h a t it is i n v o k e d t o j u s t i f y n o t o n l y u n f r e e d o m ( r e n u n c i a t i o n , q u i e t i s m , d e f e a t i s m ) , b u t a l s o , a n d i n s e p a r a b l y , d o m i n a t i o n : the ' m a s o c h i s t i c ' e x a l t a t i o n o f o n e ' s o w n d e a t h , says M a r c u s e , e n t a i l s a l s o the d e a t h o f o t h e r s . M o r e o v e r , the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h i m p l i e s a c c e p t a n c e o f a n e x i s t i n g repressive p o l i t i c a l o r d e r , a n d m a r k s the b i r t h o f a p h i l o s o p h i c a l m o r a l i t y w h i c h r a t i o n a l i z e s i t . In t h i s respect, a l t h o u g h M a r c u s e i m p l a u s i b l y i m a g i n e s t h a t the o n t o l o g i c a l a f f i r m a t i o n o f d e a t h c o m e s t o a close i n the p h i l o s o p h y o f H e i d e g g e r , he a n t i c i p a t e s a p r o l o n g e d l a t e r d e b a t e w h e n he d i s c e r n s i n H e i d e g g e r ' s w o r k a n ' i d e o l o g i c a l e x h o r t a t i o n t o d e a t h ' a p p e a r i n g 'at the v e r y t i m e w h e n the p o l i t i c a l g r o u n d w a s p r e p a r e d f o r the c o r r e s p o n d i n g r e a l i t y o f d e a t h — the gas c h a m b e r s a n d c o n c e n t r a t i o n c a m p s o f A u s c h w i t z , B u c h e n w a l d , D a c h a u , a n d B e r g e n - B e l s e n ' (p. 6 9 ) .

5

W h a t , t h e n , does the m a t e r i a l i s t d e m y s t i f i c a t i o n o f the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h e n t a i l ? F o r M a r c u s e it m e a n s t h a t d e a t h m u s t be c o n f r o n t e d as p r i m a r i l y ' a t e c h n i c a l l i m i t ' o n h u m a n f r e e d o m , the s u r p a s s i n g o f w h i c h l i m i t w o u l d b e c o m e the r e c o g n i z e d g o a l o f the i n d i v i d u a l a n d of social endeavour. T o an increasing extent, death w o u l d partake of f r e e d o m , a n d i n d i v i d u a l s w o u l d be e m p o w e r e d t o d e t e r m i n e o w n d e a t h s . A s i n the case o f i n c u r a b l e s u f f e r i n g , the m e a n s

their for

p a i n l e s s d e a t h w o u l d be m a d e a v a i l a b l e . D e a t h w o u l d be d e p r i v e d o f its h o r r o r , its i n c a l c u l a b l e p o w e r , as w e l l as its t r a n s c e n d e n t a l s a n c t i t y ; r e d u c i n g d e a t h t o its b i o l o g i c a l r e a l i t y w o u l d b e c o m e the s t i m u l u s f o r incessant efforts t o e x t e n d the l i m i t s o f life a n d t o e l i m i n a t e d e c r e p i t u d e a n d s u f f e r i n g : ' M a n is n o t free as l o n g as d e a t h has n o t b e c o m e " h i s o w n " , t h a t i s , as l o n g as it has n o t b e e n b r o u g h t u n d e r h i s a u t o n o m y ' (p. 74). H o w e v e r , says M a r c u s e , s u c h a sensible a l t e r n a t i v e t o the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h w i l l c o n t i n u e t o be r e p r e s s e d , because it w o u l d

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e n t a i l the c o l l a p s e o f the e s t a b l i s h e d i n s t i t u t i o n s a n d values o f c i v i l i z a t i o n , a n d the c u r r e n t f o r m s o f s o c i a l d o m i n a t i o n , w h i c h that i d e o l o g y has h e l p e d t o create a n d s u p p o r t . T h e effective d e s t r u c t i o n o f the ideology of death w o u l d entail 'an explosive transvaluation of social c o n c e p t s ' , a process o f ' d e h e r o i z a t i o n a n d d e s u b l i m a t i o n ' a n d ' a n e w " r e a l i t y p r i n c i p l e " w h i c h w o u l d l i b e r a t e r a t h e r t h a n suppress

the

" p l e a s u r e p r i n c i p l e " ' (pp. 6 9 - 7 4 ) . W h a t is r e m a r k a b l e i n this a c c o u n t is the i m p o r t a n c e a t t r i b u t e d t o the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h : it b e c o m e s the c o r n e r s t o n e o f the entire (and m a i n l y o b j e c t i o n a b l e ) i d e o l o g i c a l edifice o f W e s t e r n c i v i l i z a t i o n genera l l y , a n d W e s t e r n c a p i t a l i s m e s p e c i a l l y , a n d v i a H e i d e g g e r it is a s s o c i ated w i t h the N a z i H o l o c a u s t .

Eros and Civilization In p a s s i n g , a n d s o m e w h a t e v a s i v e l y , M a r c u s e r e m a r k s t h a t the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h is so p o w e r f u l that it seems h a r d to reject F r e u d ' s h y p o t h e s i s t h a t it is the m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f a n i n s u f f i c i e n t l y repressed d e a t h - w i s h . T h i s is a r e v e a l i n g r e m a r k , a n d o n e w h i c h takes us b a c k to M a r c u s e ' s most w e l l - k n o w n w o r k , E r o s a n d C i v i l i z a t i o n , p u b l i s h e d just a f e w years e a r l i e r a n d s u b t i t l e d ' A P h i l o s o p h i c a l I n q u i r y i n t o F r e u d ' . B e c a u s e it w a s so i n f l u e n t i a l i n the 1960s, it is o f t e n m i s r e m e m b e r e d as b e i n g a p r o d u c t o f that d e c a d e . F i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 1955, 6

it b e g a n as a series o f lectures i n 1 9 5 0 - 5 1 . Its c o n t i n u i n g relevance lies in M a r c u s e ' s w i l l i n g n e s s to cross b e t w e e n d i s c i p l i n e s a n d perspectives traditionally hostile to each other — especially M a r x i s m a n d psychoa n a l y s i s - a n d his a t t e m p t t o forge a p o s i t i v e c u l t u r a l a n d p h i l o s o p h i c a l p o l i t i c s f r o m the t r a u m a t i c e x p e r i e n c e o f p o l i t i c a l f a i l u r e a n d e x i l e . ( M a r c u s e fled N a z i G e r m a n y i n 1933, first to G e n e v a , a n d t h e n t o A m e r i c a a y e a r later.) As

i n the later a r t i c l e , M a r c u s e is a d a m a n t t h a t the i d e o l o g y o f

d e a t h serves a n e x i s t i n g repressive c u l t u r e : In a repressive civilization, death itself becomes an instrument of repression. Whether death is feared as a constant threat, or glorified as a supreme sacrifice, or accepted as fate, the education for consent to death introduces

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. . . surrender and submission . . . T h e powers that be have a deep affinity to death . . . (p. 236) I n u t t e r c o n t r a s t , a p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s , w h i c h h o l d s o u t the p r o spect o f ' f i n a l l i b e r a t i o n ' , c a n r e n d e r d e a t h r a t i o n a l a n d

painless

(p. 236). I n the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h , m e m o r y is the e n e m y o f p r a x i s — the v e h i c l e o f a c r i p p l i n g sense o f loss a n d m u t a b i l i t y , a n d o f w h a t t i m e has d e s t r o y e d . A s s u c h , m e m o r y i n s t i l s f a t a l i s m : the flux of time is society's most natural ally i n maintaining law and order . . . the flux of time helps men forget what was and what can be: it makes them oblivious to the better past and the better future, (p. 231) B u t m e m o r y d o e s n o t h a v e t o be l i k e t h i s . M a r c u s e w a n t s t o t r a n s v a l u e m e m o r y , m a k i n g it the a i d o f p r a x i s a n d i n s p i r i n g o f h o p e . P s y c h o a n a l y s i s stresses the p o s i t i v e v a l u e o f m e m o r y , b u t m a i n l y t o w a r d s a t h e r a p e u t i c e n d . M a r c u s e r e c o g n i z e s m e m o r y as a p r o d u c t o f c i v i l i z a t i o n , ' p e r h a p s its o l d e s t a n d m o s t f u n d a m e n t a l p s y c h o l o g i c a l a c h i e v e m e n t ' , o n e w h i c h has a ' t r u t h v a l u e ' - t h a t i s , the a b i l i t y ' t o preserve p r o m i s e s a n d p o t e n t i a l i t i e s w h i c h are b e t r a y e d a n d even o u t l a w e d b y the m a t u r e , c i v i l i z e d i n d i v i d u a l , b u t w h i c h h a d o n c e been f u l f i l l e d i n h i s d i m p a s t a n d w h i c h are never e n t i r e l y f o r g o t t e n ' . I n this c o n n e c t i o n ' r e g r e s s i o n a s s u m e s a p r o g r e s s i v e f u n c t i o n ' : the r e c o v e r e d p a s t is n o t r e c o n c i l e d w i t h the p r e s e n t b u t challenges i t , a n d 'the r e c h e r c h e d u t e m p s p e r d u b e c o m e s the v e h i c l e o f f u t u r e l i b e r a t i o n ' . M a r c u s e m i x e s n o s t a l g i a a n d o p t i m i s m : t h i n g s w e r e better i n the p a s t , a n d c a n be better a g a i n , i n the f u t u r e - e s p e c i a l l y i f w e h o l d o n t o the t r u t h o f t h a t p a s t : 'the m e m o r y o f g r a t i f i c a t i o n is at the o r i g i n o f a l l t h i n k i n g , a n d the i m p u l s e t o r e c a p t u r e p a s t g r a t i f i c a t i o n is the h i d d e n d r i v i n g p o w e r b e h i n d the p r o c e s s o f t h o u g h t ' . E v e n ' t i m e loses its p o w e r w h e n r e m e m b r a n c e r e d e e m s the p a s t ' (pp. 19, 31, 2 3 2 - 3 ) . M a r c u s e d e c l i n e d the c o m f o r t a b l e

7

appropriations of F r e u d that

w e r e c u r r e n t at t h a t t i m e , e s p e c i a l l y i n A m e r i c a , i n s i s t i n g i n s t e a d o n c o n f r o n t i n g w h a t was most d i s t u r b i n g i n Freud's w o r k (and especially so f o r a p r o g r e s s i v e p o l i t i c s ) , n a m e l y the d e a t h d r i v e . H e a i m e d f o r an

o p t i m i s t i c r e w o r k i n g o f F r e u d ' s ideas n o t b y p l a y i n g d o w n the

d e a t h d r i v e b u t b y t r y i n g t o h i s t o r i c i z e i t . I n f a c t he b e l i e v e d t h a t t h i s

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a p p a r e n t l y u n i v e r s a l o r a h i s t o r i c a l i d e a w a s , l i k e others i n F r e u d ' s w o r k , already potentially historical: The 'unhistoricaP character

of the Freudian concepts

. . . contains

the

elements of its opposite: their historical substance must be recaptured, not by adding some sociological factors . . . but by unfolding their o w n content. (P. 35) F o r M a r c u s e the d e a t h d r i v e has the f u n c t i o n o f p r o t e s t i n g against the injustice a n d d e p r i v a t i o n s o f h i s t o r y : T h e descent t o w a r d death is an unconscious flight f r o m pain and want. It is an expression of the eternal struggle against suffering and repression. A n d the death instinct itself seems to be affected by the historical changes w h i c h affect this struggle, (p. 29) T h e d e a t h d r i v e a n d its d e r i v a t i v e s , a l o n g w i t h the s e x u a l p e r v e r s i o n s ,

8

are a n u n c o n s c i o u s p r o t e s t against the i n s u f f i c i e n c y o f c i v i l i z a t i o n ; they testify t o the destructiveness o f w h a t they a t t e m p t t o d e s t r o y

-

t h a t i s , r e p r e s s i o n . T h e r e is therefore a n i m p l i c i t i d e a l i s m i n t h e m : 'they a i m n o t o n l y against the r e a l i t y p r i n c i p l e , at n o n - b e i n g , b u t a l s o b e y o n d the r e a l i t y p r i n c i p l e - at a n o t h e r m o d e o f b e i n g ' (p. 109).

Prometheus

vs. O r p h e u s

In its m o d e r n ' r a t i o n a l ' f o r m the ego is essentially aggressive, a n x i o u s l y a n d restlessly c o m m i t t e d to the m a s t e r y o f ' l o w e r ' faculties a n d o f the e n v i r o n m e n t ; as s u c h it strives to be p r o d u c t i v e , a n d is w h o l l y i n the service o f w h a t M a r c u s e calls the ' p e r f o r m a n c e is a n t a g o n i s t i c

p r i n c i p l e ' . It

to those faculties w h i c h are receptive r a t h e r

than

p r o d u c t i v e , a n d w h i c h tend t o w a r d s gratification rather than c o n t r o l ( E r o s a n d C i v i l i z a t i o n , p p . 1 0 9 - 1 0 , 1 2 1 ) . M a r c u s e finds this c o n c e p t i o n o f the ego e p i t o m i z e d i n the m y t h o l o g i c a l

figure

of

Prometheus,

the a r c h e t y p e - h e r o o f the p e r f o r m a n c e p r i n c i p l e , g o v e r n e d by ' t o i l , p r o d u c t i v i t y , a n d p r o g r e s s t h r o u g h r e p r e s s i o n ' (p. 161). W e s t e r n p h i l o s o p h y c o n s o l i d a t e s the repressive c o n c e p t o f r e a s o n ( p r o d u c t i v i t y etc.) b u t also c o n t a i n s w i t h i n itself a v i s i o n o f a h i g h e r f o r m of b e i n g - o n e involving 'receptivity, contemplation, enjoyment', 224

PRAXIS AND EMANCIPATION: F E U E R B A C H , M A R X ,

MARCUSE

the r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f the i n d i v i d u a l w i t h the w h o l e , f u l f i l m e n t w i t h o u t repression, f r e e d o m to live w i t h o u t anxiety, painless gratification of needs, the i n t e g r a l f u l f i l m e n t o f m a n a n d n a t u r e , a n d f r e e d o m f r o m g u i l t a n d fear (pp. 1 3 1 , 1 4 3 - 4 6 , 1 5 0 - 5 3 , 1 6 0 ) . A l l this is t o be a c h i e v e d t h r o u g h a n o n - r e p r e s s i v e s u b l i m a t i o n o f eros, a n d is m y t h o l o g i c a l l y e m b o d i e d i n terms not of Prometheus, but of O r p h e u s a n d Narcissus - figures w h o p r o m i s e t o r e c o n c i l e eros a n d t h a n a t o s i n 'the r e d e m p t i o n o f p l e a s u r e , the h a l t o f t i m e , the a b s o r p t i o n o f d e a t h ; silence, sleep, n i g h t , p a r a d i s e - the N i r v a n a p r i n c i p l e n o t as d e a t h b u t as l i f e ' (p. 164). T h e y a l s o p r o m i s e t o o v e r c o m e the o p p o s i t i o n b e t w e e n m a n a n d n a t u r e , subject a n d o b j e c t -

a n d t o a f a i r y - t a l e degree:

'Orpheus

pacifies the a n i m a l w o r l d , r e c o n c i l e s the l i o n w i t h the l a m b a n d the l i o n w i t h m a n ' (p. 166). T h e first t h i n g t o s t r i k e o n e a b o u t this beatific v i s i o n is t h a t it glosses o v e r the d a r k e r elements o f the v e r y m y t h o l o g i c a l figures w h o are s u p p o s e d t o express i t : O r p h e u s , w h o gave h i s l o v e t o b o y s ( O v i d ) , w a s t o r n t o pieces b y the T h r a c i a n w o m e n . B e f o r e t h a t he s e a r c h e d h o p e l e s s l y i n the u n d e r w o r l d f o r h i s l o s t l o v e r . A s f o r N a r c i s s u s , M a r c u s e r e c o g n i z e s t h a t he m y t h o l o g i c a l l y c o n n e c t s desire a n d d e a t h , and

a l l he c a n d o is l a m e l y accept i t : 'If h i s e r o t i c a t t i t u d e is a k i n t o

d e a t h a n d b r i n g s d e a t h , t h e n rest a n d sleep a n d d e a t h are n o t p a i n f u l l y s e p a r a t e d a n d d i s t i n g u i s h e d ' (p. 167). M a r c u s e is c l e a r l y a t t r a c t e d t o that m o d e of transcendence w h i c h haunts W e s t e r n metaphysics a n d in

w h i c h a l l p o t e n t i a l i t y b e c o m e s a c t u a l i t y , i n w h i c h 'the restless

l a b o u r o f the t r a n s c e n d i n g subject t e r m i n a t e s i n the u l t i m a t e u n i t y o f subject a n d o b j e c t : the i d e a o f " b e i n g - i n - a n d - f o r - i t s e l f " , e x i s t i n g i n its o w n f u l f i l l m e n t ' w h i c h is i m m a n e n t i n this w o r l d . T h u s A r i s t o t l e ' s n o u s t h e o s , t h a t s u b l i m e m o d e o f b e i n g i n w h i c h e x i s t e n c e is n o l o n g e r c o n f i n e d o r d e f i n e d b y a n y t h i n g else a n d is e n t i r e l y itself i n a l l states and and

c o n d i t i o n s ( E r o s a n d C i v i l i z a t i o n , p . 112) - the e t e r n i t y o f G o d , the z e r o - t e n s i o n o f n o n - b e i n g . T h i s is the r e m a r k a b l e t h i n g a b o u t M a r c u s e ' s r a d i c a l i s m : e v e n w h i l e

c a s t i g a t i n g the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h , it i n c o r p o r a t e s a b e n i g n , i d e a l i s t i c d e a t h - w i s h . D e s p i t e , o r p e r h a p s because of, the severe r e p u d i a t i o n o f the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h , M a r c u s e ' s U t o p i a n v i s i o n is steeped i n a desire f o r t h a t r a d i c a l f r e e d o m f r o m t e n s i o n w h i c h the d e a t h d r i v e expresses. T h i s m o s t p a s s i o n a t e a d v o c a t e o f the p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s echoes the 225

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same f a s c i n a t i o n w i t h d e a t h as h a d F e u e r b a c h , w h o d i d so m u c h to d e v e l o p that p h i l o s o p h y m o r e t h a n a c e n t u r y e a r l i e r . M a r c u s e w a s m o s t p r e o c c u p i e d , even s e d u c e d , by those aspects o f the d e a t h d r i v e w h i c h c o u l d n o t be i n c o r p o r a t e d w i t h i n a p h i l o s o p h y o f p r a x i s . H e d e s c r i b e d F r e u d ' s a c c o u n t o f that d r i v e as ' o n e o f the great i n t e l l e c t u a l ventures i n the science o f m a n ' . W h y ? Because o f 'the t e r r i f y i n g c o n v e r g e n c e o f p l e a s u r e a n d d e a t h ' w h i c h it p r o p o s e s , a n d because ' n e v e r before has d e a t h been so c o n s i s t e n t l y t a k e n i n t o the essence o f life . . . never before also has d e a t h c o m e so close t o E r o s ' (pp. 2 5 , 28-9).

9

In 1 9 6 6 M a r c u s e a d d e d a ' P o l i t i c a l P r e f a c e ' to E r o s a n d C i v i l i z a t i o n , c r i t i c i z i n g the 1955 text f o r its u n j u s t i f i e d o p t i m i s m . T h e t o n e is n o w severer

and

confrontational.

Marcuse

admits

to

having under-

e s t i m a t e d the emergence o f n e w , m o r e i n s i d i o u s a n d effective, f o r m s o f s o c i a l c o n t r o l . H e voices the f r u s t r a t e d sense that f r e e d o m is at o n c e p o s s i b l e a n d i m p o s s i b l e : ' l i b e r a t i o n is the m o s t r e a l i s t i c , the m o s t concrete o f a l l h i s t o r i c a l p o s s i b i l i t i e s a n d at the same t i m e the m o s t r a t i o n a l l y a n d effectively repressed - the m o s t abstract a n d r e m o t e p o s s i b i l i t y ' (p. x v ) . T h e r e a s o n f o r this is 'the d e m o c r a t i c i n t r o j e c t i o n o f the masters i n t o t h e i r subjects'. N o p h i l o s o p h y o r t h e o r y c a n u n d o this. A t first sight this p r e f a c e takes even f u r t h e r the s o c i a l i z i n g o f the d e a t h d r i v e . W e are t o l d that the n e w p o l i t i c a l struggle is n o l o n g e r b e t w e e n eros a n d t h a n a t o s , because the p o w e r s that be have eros o n t h e i r side, even t o the e x t e n t o f p r o t e c t i n g , p e r p e t u a t i n g a n d e n l a r g i n g life - at least f o r those w h o c o m p l y w i t h r e p r e s s i o n (p. x x ) . Y e t the preface ends b y e v o k i n g o n e o f F r e u d ' s m o s t p r o v o c a t i v e r e m a r k s a b o u t the d e a t h d r i v e : 'By

nature' the young are i n the forefront of those who live and fight for

Eros against Death, and against a civilization w h i c h strives to shorten the 'detour to death' while controlling the means for lengthening the detour . . . T o d a y the fight for life, the fight for Eros, is the p o l i t i c a l fight, (p. xxv) In the passage M a r c u s e here a l l u d e s t o , F r e u d declares n o t o n l y t h a t ' " t h e a i m o f a l l life

i s d e a t h " ', b u t t h a t a n o r g a n i s m ' s

apparent

resistance o f d e a t h is n o t so m u c h a n a f f i r m a t i o n o f the desire to l i v e b u t a desire t o find its o w n w a y b a c k t o d e a t h . T h i s resistance is d u e 226

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MARX,

MARCUSE

o n l y t o the f r u s t r a t i o n o f e x t e r n a l c i r c u m s t a n c e s ; r a t h e r l i k e a r i v e r c o m p e l l e d t o w i n d its w a y t o the sea, l i f e is a series o f ' c o m p l i c a t e d d e t o u r s ' or 'circuitous paths to death' ( B e y o n d t h e P l e a s u r e P r i n c i p l e , p . 311).

M a r c u s e seems t o be s a y i n g t h a t a n o p p o s i t i o n a l p o l i t i c s

c a n n o t e l i m i n a t e b u t c a n o n l y e x t e n u a t e the d e a t h d r i v e — p r o l o n g i n g r a t h e r t h a n s h o r t e n i n g the d e t o u r - a n d i n d o i n g even this it m u s t o f necessity b e c o m e v i o l e n t . T h i s b e c o m e s e s p e c i a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t i n the c o n t e x t o f the

Third

W o r l d ; a r g u a b l y the o p t i m i s m o f the o r i g i n a l t e x t w i t h r e g a r d t o the e l i m i n a t i o n o f s c a r c i t y , the erotics o f p a s s i v i t y as the basis o f a n e w r e a l i t y p r i n c i p l e , a n d the e l i m i n a t i o n o f the n e e d f o r a l i e n a t e d l a b o u r , w a s t e n a b l e o n l y i f the T h i r d W o r l d ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h the F i r s t w a s i g n o r e d . I n the n e w g r i m t o n e is a r e s i d u e o f t r a g e d y ; the p o l i t i c a l struggle has necessarily p a r t a k e n o f the v i o l e n c e o f the d o m i n a n t o r d e r ( ' a g g r e s s i o n c a n be t u r n e d against the a g g r e s s o r ' ) , a n d t h o s e s t r u g g l i n g f o r f r e e d o m , i n c l u d i n g the p h i l o s o p h e r s o f p r a x i s , h a v e n o w themselves b e c o m e ' p u r v e y o r s o f D e a t h ' (pp. x x , x i ) .

227

VII THE OF

AESTHETICS ENERGY

I6 Fighting

Decadence:

Nietzsche against Schopenhauer and Wagner

Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

b e l i e v e d t h a t s o m e t h i n g l i k e the

d e a t h - w i s h h a d been d e b i l i t a t i n g W e s t e r n c u l t u r e at least since S o c r a t e s a n d w a s m a n i f e s t e d as d e c a d e n c e . C o m p a r e d w i t h , s a y , M a x N o r d a u , N i e t z s c h e is i m m e a s u r a b l y m o r e i n s i g h t f u l i n t o the c o n d i t i o n he c o n d e m n s , a n d so m u c h m o r e p e r c e p t i v e a b o u t its p r e v a l e n c e i n W e s t e r n t h o u g h t , e v e n o r e s p e c i a l l y i n those w h o r e p u d i a t e it - i n c l u d i n g himself: It is a self-deception o n the part of philosophers and moralists to imagine that by m a k i n g w a r o n d e c a d e n c e they therewith elude d e c a d e n c e themselves. T h i s is beyond their powers: what they select as an expedient, as a deliverance, is itself only another expression of d e c a d e n c e - they a l t e r its expression, they do not abolish the thing itself. ' ( T w i l i g h t , p. 34; cf. W i l l t o P o w e r , p. 239) N i e t z s c h e c e r t a i n l y e x p e r i e n c e d w h a t he r e p u d i a t e s ; i t c o u l d even be s a i d t h a t he w i l l i n g l y t o o k i t e v e n f u r t h e r i n t o h i s b e i n g , i n o r d e r t o k n o w i t better. T h i s e x i s t e n t i a l struggle against d e c a d e n c e is at the h e a r t o f a p h i l o s o p h y o f life h i g h l y i n f l u e n t i a l i n s o m e o f the m a i n s t r a n d s o f m o d e r n i s m a n d p o s t - m o d e r n i s m . N i e t z s c h e ' s h e r o i c battle a g a i n s t w h a t he s a w as the a n t i - l i f e d e c a d e n c e

of Western culture

q u i t e p o s s i b l y cost h i m h i s s a n i t y a n d e v e n t u a l l y h i s l i f e . N i e t z s c h e r e g a r d e d t h e m o d e r n c o n d i t i o n as steeped i n a c o w a r d l y religion o f pity a n d n i h i l i s m beneath w h i c h were o n l y weariness a n d l i f e - e x h a u s t i o n , a n i n s t i n c t i v e fear o f r e a l i t y , a loss o f m a n l y d r i v e s and

v i r t u e s , a n d a n i n c a p a c i t y f o r struggle a n d resistance. A l l o f this

e n t a i l e d a ' c o n t r a d i c t i o n o f l i f e ' a n d a n a b d i c a t i o n o f the w i l l t o p o w e r (Anti-Christ, am

p p . 122, 1 2 7 - 8 , 129, 142). ' I n s t e a d o f s a y i n g s i m p l y " I

n o l o n g e r w o r t h a n y t h i n g " , the m o r a l l i e i n the m o u t h o f t h e 231

DEATH,

decadent

says:

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

" N o t h i n g is w o r t h a n y t h i n g -

CULTURE

life is n o t

worth

a n y t h i n g . " ' F o r N i e t z s c h e s u c h a j u d g e m e n t represents a c o n t a g i o u s d a n g e r , c a p a b l e o f p o i s o n i n g life f o r t h o u s a n d s o f years a h e a d . H e b e l i e v e d its o r i g i n s w e r e i n W e s t e r n r e l i g i o n - C h r i s t i a n i t y a b o v e a l l -

a n d p h i l o s o p h y ( T w i l i g h t , p . 87). A l l this the m o d e r n 1

decadent

i n h e r i t s as w o r l d - w e a r i n e s s , the w i s h t o d i e , t o p e r i s h , t o d e n y the w i l l t o life - c o n d i t i o n s e x p r e s s e d s u p r e m e l y b y S c h o p e n h a u e r pp.

(Twilight,

4 5 - 6 ) . A n d yet, e l s e w h e r e , N i e t z s c h e endorses a c o n c e p t i o n o f

the h u m a n c o n d i t i o n w h i c h h a d l e d m a n y o f the w r i t e r s he o p p o s e s t o this a t t i t u d e o f w o r l d - w e a r i n e s s . L i k e t h e m N i e t z s c h e is t r o u b l e d by our intrinsically precarious identity - sick, unstable, competitive, d r i v e n b y a m u t a b l e , q u e s t i n g , restless desire. T h i s is h o w he p u t it in T h e G e n e a l o g y o f M o r a l s : certainly man is sicker, less secure, less stable, less firmly anchored than any other animal; he is the s i c k animal . . . eternally unsatisfied, vying w i t h the gods, the beasts, and w i t h nature for final supremacy; man, unconquered to this day, still unrealized, so agitated by his o w n teeming energy that his future digs like spurs into the flesh of every present moment. H o w c o u l d such a brave and resourceful animal but be the most precarious, the most profoundly sick of all the sick beasts of the earth? (p. 257) It is h a r d l y s u r p r i s i n g , t h e n , t o d i s c o v e r that S c h o p e n h a u e r

and

W a g n e r were t w o of Nietzsche's most i m p o r t a n t early influences, a l t h o u g h he s u b s e q u e n t l y reacted v e h e m e n t l y against w h a t he c a m e t o r e g a r d as t h e i r d e a t h - e m b r a c i n g v i s i o n o f desire. If his greatest w o r k is e n e r g i z e d b y his v e h e m e n t r e p u d i a t i o n o f d e c a d e n c e , it is also never free o f its s e d u c t i o n , a n d he a c k n o w l e d g e s p r e c i s e l y t h i s . T h i s m e a n s t h a t the energy a n d b r i l l i a n c e o f his w o r k also c o m e f r o m the t e n s i o n , the c o n f l i c t , b e t w e e n the r e p u d i a t i o n a n d the s e d u c t i o n . A s the a b o v e q u o t a t i o n f r o m T h e G e n e a l o g y o f M o r a l s m a k e s c l e a r , f o r N i e t z s c h e the h e r o i c r e p u d i a t i o n o f d e a t h a n d m u t a b i l i t y energizes desire because they are a l r e a d y i n s i d e it as a sickness w h i c h i n c l u d e s the e x p e r i e n c e o f b e i n g ' e t e r n a l l y u n s a t i s f i e d ' a n d f o r e v e r d e s t a b i l i z e d by a ' t e e m i n g e n e r g y ' w h i c h is i n essence s i c k . A n d , because he k n o w s t h i s , to either p s y c h o a n a l y s e o r d e c o n s t r u c t h i m is h a r d l y the p o i n t .

2

In t h a t N i e t z s c h e s u b s c r i b e d t o a w i s d o m l e a r n e d t h r o u g h s u f f e r i n g , he r e m a i n e d w i t h i n a W e s t e r n s p i r i t u a l t r a d i t i o n . B u t n o o n e w a s 232

NIETZSCHE

AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND

WAGNER

m o r e d i s t r u s t f u l o f w h a t c o n s t i t u t e d the w i s d o m o f that t r a d i t i o n t h a n h e . F u r t h e r , w i t h h i m the s u f f e r i n g t h a t l e d t o w i s d o m w a s and

also,

n e c e s s a r i l y , p h y s i c a l ; a c t u a l p h y s i c a l illness p r o d u c e d i n s i g h t ,

renunciation a n d a heroic wilfulness whose imaginative strength was in

d i r e c t p r o p o r t i o n t o h i s a c t u a l p h y s i c a l f r a i l t y . T h i s is w h a t he

c a l l e d a s e l f - o v e r c o m i n g . T h e r e i n lies the h i s t o r y o f h i s r e l i g i o u s

-

specifically Protestant — resolve. Self-overcoming: selfhood for N i e t z sche w a s a n i m a g i n a t i v e s p e c u l a t i v e p r o j e c t i o n , a desire t o be, t o create a n d b e c o m e w h a t he w a s n o t .

H i s t o r y as

loss

In a n e a r l y w o r k , O n t h e U s e s a n d D i s a d v a n t a g e s

o fH i s t o r y for

Life

(1874), N i e t z s c h e s h o w s a n acute a w a r e n e s s o f h o w o v e r w h e l m i n g the e x p e r i e n c e o f t r a n s i e n c e a n d loss c a n be, a n d argues t h a t e x t r e m e m e a s u r e s are necessary t o resist i t . A r e p u d i a t i o n o f the p a s t , e v e n t o the p o i n t o f b e i n g u n h i s t o r i c a l o r even a n t i - h i s t o r i c a l , w a s necessary f o r ' t h e h e a l t h o f a n i n d i v i d u a l , o f a p e o p l e , a n d o f a c u l t u r e ' (pp. 63— B y b e i n g ' u n h i s t o r i c a l ' N i e t z s c h e m e a n s e x e r c i s i n g 'the art a n d

4).

p o w e r o f f o r g e t t i n g , a n d o f e n c l o s i n g oneself w i t h i n a b o u n d e d h o r i zon'

(p. 120). T h i s is n o t p r i m a r i l y a n a r g u m e n t w i t h

historians

about ways of doing history. A n d while influential contemporary p h i l o s o p h i e s o f h i s t o r y are c a s t i g a t e d , e s p e c i a l l y those e n d o r s i n g a H e g e l i a n t e l e o l o g i c a l v i e w , w h a t is t h r e a t e n i n g i n h i s t o r i c a l a w a r e n e s s p r o v e s t o be s o m e t h i n g q u i t e d i f f e r e n t a n d m u c h o l d e r : it is t h a t regressive p u l l o f the past w h i c h passes as w i s d o m . T h u s h i s l a r g e r c o n c e r n w i t h the i n c o m p a t i b i l i t y o f ' l i f e a n d w i s d o m ' (p. 6 6 ) . W i s d o m t h r e a t e n s because o f its c o m p l i c i t y w i t h a h i s t o r y w h i c h is o v e r d e t e r m i n e d b y l o s s , m e m o r y , t i m e , f a i l u r e a n d m u t a b i l i t y , a l l o f w h i c h h a u n t the present: ' w e o u r s e l v e s b e a r v i s i b l y the traces o f t h o s e s u f f e r i n g s w h i c h a f f l i c t c o n t e m p o r a r y m a n k i n d as a result o f a n excess o f h i s t o r y ' (p. 116).

M a n envies the beast, h a p p y because

ignorant of time a n d m e m o r y , k n o w l e d g e of w h i c h brings consciousness a n d , w i t h t h a t , m e l a n c h o l y , satiety a n d p a i n : a moment, n o w here and then gone, nothing before it came, again nothing after i t h a s g o n e , n o n e t h e l e s s r e t u r n s as a g h o s t a n d d i s t u r b s t h e p e a c e o f a

233

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

later moment. A leaf flutters f r o m the scroll of time, floats away - and suddenly floats back again and falls into the man's lap. T h e n the man says 'I remember' and envies the animal, w h o at once forgets and for w h o m every moment really dies . . . (p. 6 1 ) T h i s is the p e r i l o f the past - t h a t ' d a r k , i n v i s i b l e b u r d e n ' (p. 61) w i t h w h i c h c o n s c i o u s n e s s travels. A s he w a s t o p u t it later, ' m e m o r y is a festering w o u n d ' ( E c c e

Homo,

p . 15). In c o n t r a s t , the beast lives

u n h i s t o r i c a l l y , as does the u n s e l f c o n s c i o u s c h i l d w h o ' p l a y s i n b l i s s f u l b l i n d n e s s b e t w e e n the hedges o f past a n d f u t u r e ' , a n d w h o s e v e r y existence affects the a d u l t ' l i k e a v i s i o n o f a lost P a r a d i s e ' ( U s e s a n d D i s a d v a n t a g e s , p . 61). T o o s o o n w i l l the c h i l d be s u m m o n e d f r o m this u n a w a r e n e s s o f past a n d f u t u r e ; it w i l l l e a r n the l a n g u a g e o f t i m e -

that w h i c h lets i n ' c o n f l i c t , s u f f e r i n g a n d satiety' a n d r e m i n d s

m a n k i n d w h a t existence r e a l l y is, n a m e l y an imperfect tense that never becomes a perfect one. If death at last brings the desired forgetting, by that act it at the same time extinguishes the present and all being and therewith sets the seal on the knowledge that being is only an uninterrupted has-been, a thing that lives by negating, consuming and contradicting itself, (p. 61) H i s t o r y is m o d e r n m a n ' s m e m e n t o m o r i

3

- i n f a c t , says N i e t z s c h e ,

o u r excess o f h i s t o r y derives f r o m the m e d i e v a l m e m e n t o m o r i — w h i c h e p i t o m i z e s ' a p r o f o u n d sense o f hopelessness [ w h i c h ] r e m a i n s a n d has assumed that historical c o l o u r i n g w i t h w h i c h a l l higher education a n d c u l t u r e is n o w s a d d e n e d a n d d a r k e n e d ' (pp. 1 0 1 - 2 ) . T h u s t i m e , o r r a t h e r the k n o w l e d g e o f t i m e , i n v o l v e s a process o f s e l f - d e s t r u c t i o n a n d s e l f - c o n t r a d i c t i o n w h i c h is ' u l t i m a t e l y f a t a l t o t h e l i v i n g w h e t h e r [it] b e a m a n o r a p e o p l e o r a c u l t u r e '

thing,

(p. 62) . T h i s is w h y , 4

to b e c o m e h a p p y o r to act, w e m u s t l e a r n the p o w e r o f f o r g e t t i n g : ' i t is altogether i m p o s s i b l e t o l i v e at a l l w i t h o u t f o r g e t t i n g ' (p. 61). T h i s i n t u r n facilitates the c a p a c i t y f o r f e e l i n g u n h i s t o r i c a l l y , w h i c h is the f o u n d a t i o n o f a l l g r o w t h a n d o f w h a t is t r u l y great a n d h u m a n . W e m u s t a c t i v e l y create b o u n d a r i e s d i v i d i n g 'the v i s i b l e a n d clear f r o m the v a g u e a n d s h a d o w y ' ; life l i t e r a l l y depends u p o n a process

of

e x c l u s i o n analogous to the process of forgetting: 'This is a u n i v e r s a l law;

a l i v i n g t h i n g c a n be h e a l t h y , s t r o n g a n d f r u i t f u l o n l y w h e n

234

NIETZSCHE

AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND

WAGNER

b o u n d e d b y a h o r i z o n ' ; i f it is i n c a p a b l e o f d r a w i n g a h o r i z o n a r o u n d itself, it w i l l d i e (p. 63). T h e u n h i s t o r i c a l sense is the f o u n d a t i o n n o t just o f h e a l t h b u t o f a l l a c h i e v e m e n t , be it c r e a t i v e , m i l i t a r y o r emancipatory. B e i n g b e h o l d e n to history becomes c o m p a r a b l e to being flooded a n d c o n f u s e d b y c u l t u r a l d i f f e r e n c e : the R o m a n o f the i m p e r i a l e r a ceased t o be R o m a n 'as he l o s t h i m s e l f i n the f l o o d o f f o r e i g n e r s w h i c h c a m e s t r e a m i n g i n a n d d e g e n e r a t e d i n the m i d s t o f the c o s m o p o l i t a n c a r n i v a l o f g o d s , arts a n d c u s t o m s ' (p. 83). A n d , just as i n c e r t a i n e p o c h s the G r e e k s w e r e i n d a n g e r o f b e i n g ' o v e r w h e l m e d b y w h a t w a s past a n d foreign . . .

a chaos of foreign, Semitic, B a b y l o n i a n ,

L y d i a n , E g y p t i a n f o r m s a n d i d e a s ' , so m o d e r n G e r m a n c u l t u r e a n d r e l i g i o n are ' a s t r u g g l i n g c h a o s o f a l l the W e s t a n d o f a l l the p a s t ages' (p. 122). M o r e positively, Nietzsche advocates a p o l i t i c a l a n d ' c r i t i c a l ' history w h i c h serves life - e x p o s i n g , f o r e x a m p l e , the i n j u s t i c e o f s o m e t h i n g v i a its p a s t ; it is t h e n t h a t ' o n e takes the k n i f e t o its r o o t s , t h e n o n e c r u e l l y t r a m p l e s o v e r every k i n d o f p i e t y ' (p. 76). B u t this t o o is a d a n g e r o u s p r o c e s s , even f o r l i f e ; a g a i n , N i e t z s c h e d i s p l a y s a p r o f o u n d sense o f h o w h i s t o r y (like the d e c a d e n c e it feeds) is deep i n s i d e us, a n d the here a n d n o w : since we are the outcome of earlier generations, we are also the outcome of their aberrations, passions and errors, and indeed of their crimes; it is not possible w h o l l y to free oneself f r o m this chain. If we condemn these aberrations and regard ourselves as free of them, this does not alter the fact that we originate i n them. (p. 76) W e h a v e n o c h o i c e b u t t o l i v e a struggle b e t w e e n a n i n h e r i t e d

first

n a t u r e a n d a n e w stern d i s c i p l i n e , a s e c o n d n a t u r e , w h i c h , because often weaker,

fights

the first w i t h o u t g u a r a n t e e

o f success. B u t a

c o n s o l a t i o n is i n the k n o w l e d g e t h a t the o p p r e s s i v e first n a t u r e w a s o n c e a s e c o n d , a n d t h a t the n e w c o n q u e r i n g s e c o n d n a t u r e w i l l e v e n t u ally become a

first.

235

DEATH,

DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

and The Birth of Tragedy

Schopenhauer

I h a v e a l r e a d y r e m a r k e d N i e t z s c h e ' s r e p u d i a t i o n o f his f o r m e r c u l t u r a l heroes, W a g n e r a n d S c h o p e n h a u e r . H e c a m e to r e g a r d S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s p e s s i m i s m as d e c a d e n t . In the 1886 preface to T h e B i r t h o f T r a g e d y , e n t i t l e d ' A C r i t i c a l B a c k w a r d G l a n c e ' , he argues p a s s i o n a t e l y ' a s t r o n g p e s s i m i s m ' w h o s e effect w o u l d n o t be

for

Schopenhauerean

w i t h d r a w a l f r o m the p a i n a n d t r a g e d y o f existence,

but a heroic

c o n f r o n t a t i o n w i t h t h e m - h e r o i c because r i s k i n g e v e r y t h i n g i n the n a m e o f life's excess. T h i s w a s w h a t N i e t z s c h e n o w c a l l e d the D i o n y s iac a n d the t r a g i c . N i e t z s c h e also d e v e l o p s w h a t m i g h t be c a l l e d a s t r o n g m a s o c h i s m , a n a l o g o u s t o this s t r o n g p e s s i m i s m ; i n s t e a d o f r e s i g n a t i o n i n the face o f life's p a i n , n o w there is a w o r s h i p o f i t . A n aspect o f this is the f a n t a s y o f p a r t i c i p a t i n g s a c r i f i c i a l l y i n the o m n i p o t e n t u n i v e r s a l l i f e - f o r c e w h o s e m e a n i n g is ' p u r e l y aesthetic'; G o d the C r e a t o r is i m a g i n e d as the supreme artist, amoral, recklessly creating and destroying, realizing himself indifferently i n whatever he does or undoes, ridding himself by his acts of the embarrassment of his riches and the strain of his internal contradictions. ( B i r t h , p. 9) T h u s the aesthetics o f energy. T h e a m o r a l i t y o f this L i f e - G o d is i m p o r t a n t f o r N i e t z s c h e ; the aesthetic a t t i t u d e to life w a s d e e p l y a n d necessarily a n t i - m o r a l , because it is m o r a l i t y (especially C h r i s t i a n m o r a l i t y ) w h i c h h a r b o u r s the d e a t h d r i v e i n its m o s t i n s i d i o u s f o r m . M o r a l i t y is a s y m p t o m o f d e c a d e n c e — n o t h i n g b u t ' a w i l l to d e n y l i f e , a secret i n s t i n c t o f d e s t r u c t i o n ' - a n d C h r i s t i a n i t y is a

degenerated

i n s t i n c t e x p r e s s i n g itself as a h a t r e d o f life - ' a y e a r n i n g f o r e x t i n c t i o n , c e s s a t i o n o f a l l effort'

( B i r t h , p . 11, m y e m p h a s i s ; cf. E c c e

Homo,

P. 49). E a r l i e r he h a d t a k e n f r o m S c h o p e n h a u e r the i d e a t h a t t o be i n t o u c h w i t h the m o s t p r o f o u n d r e a l i t y i n v o l v e s a d i s s o l u t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a l i t y , a d e a t h o f the self. T h i s is a n i d e a w h i c h N i e t z s c h e w i l l r e t a i n , a l b e i t i n m o d i f i e d f o r m . S u c h d i s s o l u t i o n is w h a t h a p p e n s i n D i o n y s i a c r a p t u r e : the p r i n c i p l e o f i n d i v i d u a t i o n is shattered i n ' m y s t i c a l self236

NIETZSCHE AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND WAGNER

a b r o g a t i o n ' o r ' u n - s e l v i n g ' ; it is s h o w n t o be ' a m e r e

figment'.

One

' s i n k s b a c k i n t o ' the ' p r i m o r d i a l O n e ' . T h e process i n v o l v e s a ' L e t h e a n e l e m e n t i n w h i c h e v e r y t h i n g t h a t has been e x p e r i e n c e d b y the i n d i v i d u a l is d r o w n e d ' , a ' c h a s m o f o b l i v i o n ' , a ' s h a t t e r i n g o f the i n d i v i d u a l ' , a ' d e l i g h t felt at the a n n i h i l a t i o n o f the i n d i v i d u a l '

(Birth,

p p . 2 2 — 7 , 3 8 — 9 , 51, 5 6 , 1 0 1 ) . T h e r e is a r e s e m b l a n c e here w h i c h w i l l be highly influential for subsequent modernist movements. Schopenhauer a d v o c a t e s w i t h d r a w a l f r o m desire a n d f r o m n a t u r e a n d a d e n i a l o f the w i l l ; N i e t z s c h e a d v o c a t e s the o p p o s i t e , a h e r o i c i m m e r s i o n w i t h i n the w o r l d o f c h a n g e as a w a y o f m o m e n t a r i l y r e a l i z i n g the w i l l t o p o w e r . Y e t these o t h e r w i s e d i v e r g i n g p h i l o s o p h i e s nevertheless b o t h h a v e as t h e i r p r e r e q u i s i t e the a n n i h i l a t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a l i t y as c o n v e n tionally k n o w n . T h e D i o n y s i a c v i s i o n is a n i n s i g h t i n t o the w i l l t o l i f e : for a brief moment we become, ourselves, the p r i m a l Being, and we experience its i n s a t i a b l e hunger for existence. N o w we see the struggle, the pain, the destruction of appearances, as necessary, because of the constant proliferation of forms pushing into life, because of the extravagant fecundity of the w o r l d - w i l l . W e feel the furious prodding of this travail i n t h e v e r y

moment

in w h i c h we become one w i t h the immense lust for life and are made aware of the eternity and indestructibility of that lust. (pp. 1 0 2 - 3 ; my emphasis) M e t a p h y s i c a l oneness is n o w a n excess - a ' p r o c r e a t i v e l u s t ' w h i c h p r o d u c e s a n d c o n s u m e s i n d i v i d u a l s w h o c a n n o t s u r v i v e the s u b l i m e a m o r a l i t y o f the w o r l d - w i l l w h i c h ' p l a y f u l l y shatters a n d r e b u i l d s the t e e m i n g w o r l d ' (p. 143). B u t the D i o n y s i a c v i s i o n is never p u r e ecstasy; it is a l s o ' t r a u m a t i c a l l y w o u n d e d ' -

n o t least because it sees, b u t

c a n n o t s u r v i v e , the ' e t e r n a l l i f e c o n t i n u i n g b e y o n d a l l a p p e a r a n c e a n d i n spite o f d e s t r u c t i o n ' , a n d because, i n the D i o n y s i a c state, m a n becomes ' p r i m a l B e i n g ' , susceptible to a n ' i n s a t i a b l e h u n g e r f o r existe n c e ' ( p p . 52, 1 0 1 - 2 ; m y e m p h a s i s ) . C r u c i a l l y , the p r i m a l oneness N i e t z s c h e e n v i s i o n s is n o t the c o n v e n t i o n a l m e t a p h y s i c a l i n t e g r a t i o n i n w h i c h p a i n , d i v i s i o n a n d loss h a v e b e e n d i s s o l v e d a n d t r a n s c e n d e d ; o n the c o n t r a r y , t h i s oneness is itself i n s o m e sense i n t o l e r a b l y c o n f l i c t e d b y ' p a i n a n d c o n t r a d i c t i o n ' (p. 38) — r a t h e r l i k e the S c h o p e n h a u e r e a n w i l l — a n d so m u c h so t h a t it r e q u i r e s its m i s r e p r e s e n t a t i o n : 237

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CULTURE

the original Oneness, the ground of Being, ever-suffering and contradictory, time and again has need of rapt vision and delightful illusion to redeem itself. (P. 32.) T h e m e t a p h y s i c a l solace w h i c h a l l t r u e t r a g e d y p r o v i d e s rests o n a r t i s t i c i l l u s i o n . T h e p r o f o u n d G r e e k , u n i q u e l y susceptible t o the deep s u f f e r i n g c o n s e q u e n t u p o n p e n e t r a t i n g the ' d e s t r u c t i v e agencies o f b o t h n a t u r e a n d h i s t o r y ' , is s a v e d f r o m the d e a t h - w i s h , the ' B u d d h i s t i c d e n i a l o f the w i l l ' w h i c h S c h o p e n h a u e r e x t o l l e d , o n l y b y the i l l u s i o n o f art (pp. 5 0 - 5 1 ; cf. p . 145). T h i s is p a r t l y w h y D i o n y s i a c ecstasy has to be c o n t a i n e d by a p r i n c i p l e o f A p o l l o n i a n o r d e r . A p o l l o r e q u i r e s s e l f - c o n t r o l a n d hence s e l f - k n o w l e d g e a n d i n d i v i d u a t i o n , a n d t h e r e b y ' t r a n q u i l l i z e s the i n d i v i d u a l by d r a w i n g b o u n d a r y l i n e s ' . A p o l l o n i a n o r d e r is m o r e t h a n mere f o r m , c o n t r o l , c o n t a i n m e n t a n d r e s t r a i n t ; it is a l s o , c r u c i a l l y , i l l u s i o n , a n d the p r i n c i p l e o f i n d i v i d u a t i o n is the basis o f the ' r e d e m p t i o n i n i l l u s i o n ' w h i c h A p o l l o p r o v i d e s (pp. 34, 65,97)' N i e t z s c h e r e p u d i a t e d the i n f l u e n c e o f S c h o p e n h a u e r f o r o n e m a i n r e a s o n : 'I g r a s p e d t h a t m y i n s t i n c t w e n t i n t o the o p p o s i t e d i r e c t i o n f r o m S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s : t o w a r d s a j u s t i f i c a t i o n o f l i f e , even at its m o s t t e r r i b l e , a m b i g u o u s a n d m e n d a c i o u s ; f o r this I h a d the f o r m u l a " D i o n y s i a n " ' ( W i l l t o P o w e r , p . 521). N i e t z s c h e later b e l i e v e d he h a d e x t r i c a t e d the D i o n y s i a n f r o m d e a t h ; b u t , b y r e t a i n i n g S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s e m p h a s i s o n the n e e d f o r s e l f - a n n i h i l a t i o n , the D i o n y s i a c r e m a i n s a n agent o f d i s s o l u t i o n . A n d , as w e s h a l l see, there w e r e o t h e r respects t o o i n w h i c h the D i o n y s i a c r e m a i n e d p r e s s u r e d b y d e a t h .

The

s e d u c t i v e dangers

of Wagner

W a g n e r p r o v e d i f a n y t h i n g even m o r e seductive f o r N i e t z s c h e t h a n S c h o p e n h a u e r . A n d W a g n e r h a d h i m s e l f been p r o f o u n d l y i n f l u e n c e d by S c h o p e n h a u e r , r e p e a t e d l y r e m a r k i n g that this w a s a p h i l o s o p h e r w h o h a d c h a n g e d his l i f e . W h a t e s p e c i a l l y a t t r a c t e d h i m w a s S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s p h i l o s o p h i c a l v i n d i c a t i o n o f d e a t h - w h a t , i n a letter to F r a n z L i s z t i n 1854, W a g n e r c a l l e d ' h i s chief i d e a , the final n e g a t i o n o f the desire o f l i f e ' . W a g n e r is u n e q u i v o c a l a b o u t w h a t this e n t a i l s :

238

NIETZSCHE AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND WAGNER

the genuine ardent longing for death, for absolute unconsciousness, total non-existence. Freedom f r o m all dreams is our final salvation. H e prefaces this w i t h a n i m p o r t a n t o b s e r v a t i o n : those w h o have never e x p e r i e n c e d t h i s l o n g i n g c a n n e v e r r e a l l y c o m p r e h e n d its e x p r e s s i o n : T o me of course that thought was not new, and it can indeed be conceived by no one i n w h o m it d i d not pre-exist, but this philosopher was the first to place it clearly before me . . . ( W a g n e r o n M u s i c a n d D r a m a , pp. 2 7 0 - 7 1 ) W a g n e r f a m o u s l y conveys s o m e t h i n g of this l o n g i n g i n T r i s t a n

5

and

I s o l d e , w h i c h he a l s o a n t i c i p a t e s i n t h i s letter: As I never i n life felt the real bliss of love, I must erect a monument to the most beautiful of all my dreams, i n w h i c h , f r o m beginning to end, that love shall be thoroughly satiated. I have i n my head T r i s t a n a n d I s o l d e , the simplest but most full-blooded musical conception; w i t h the 'black flag' w h i c h floats at the end of it I shall cover myself and die. (p. 272) D e a t h a n d desire b l e n d , b u t n o t q u i t e as, o r because o f , the i m p o s s i b i l i t y o f d e s i r e : t h i s is d i f f e r e n t , a n d d i s t i n c t l y r o m a n t i c ; i f o n e i n f l u e n c e is S c h o p e n h a u e r , a n o t h e r is F e u e r b a c h . D e a t h , f o r W a g n e r , f l o o d s desire 6

n o t b e c a u s e o f a c o n t r a d i c t i o n i n the latter (the a t t e m p t t o r e a c h f o r fulfilment i n a w a y w h i c h precisely prevents it); rather, i n T r i s t a n , desire dies i n a n d as its f u l f i l m e n t , t h u s p r e v e n t i n g the r e c u r r e n c e o f the p a i n o f desire i n the m o m e n t o f its o w n ecstatic c u l m i n a t i o n . B u t t h i s is s o m e t h i n g the s u r v i v i n g c o m p o s e r c a n n o t p a r t i c i p a t e i n ; a l l he can

d o is let

unslaked longing swell f r o m first avowal of the gentlest tremor of attraction . . . to the mightiest onset, most resolute attempt to find . . . a path into the sea of endless love's delight. In vain! Its power spent, the heart sinks back to pine of its desire . . . (p. 273 (Prelude to T r i s t a n a n d I s o l d e ) ) . 7 P e r h a p s de R o u g e m o n t w a s r i g h t : i f desire is i m p o s s i b l e h e r e , it's b e c a u s e it seeks t o be i m m o r t a l a n d o m n i p o t e n t : one thing alone left living: desire, desire unquenchable, longing forever rehearing itself - a fevered craving; one sole redemption - death, surcease of being, the sleep that k n o w s no w a k i n g ! . . . desire without attainment; for each fruition sows the seeds of fresh 239

DEATH,

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

desire, till in its final lassitude the breaking eye beholds a glimmer of the highest bliss: it is the bliss of quitting life, of being no more, of last redemption into that wondrous realm from which we stray the furthest when we strive to enter it by fiercest force. Shall we call it death? O r is it not night's wonder w o r l d , whence - as the story says - an ivy and a vine sprang up in locked embrace o'er Tristan and Isolde's grave? (pp. 2 7 2 - 3 (Prelude to T r i s t a n a n d Isolde)) T h e excess o f desire is at o n c e desire f o r d e a t h (release f r o m desire), e x t i n c t i o n o f self i n the ecstasy o f desire, a n d a fantasy o f desire's o m n i p o t e n c e w h i c h by e x t e n s i o n b e c o m e s a fantasy o f the o m n i p o tence o f the self i n its v e r y e x t i n c t i o n . W a g n e r ' s i m p r o b a b l e a c c o u n t o f B e e t h o v e n d e v e l o p s t h i s : because desire entails a y e a r n i n g w h i c h is, o f its v e r y n a t u r e , ' u n f a t h o m e d ' , 'endless', ' b o u n d l e s s a n d i n s a t i a t e ' , ' u n a l l a y a b l e ' , it c a n n o t find c o n t e n t m e n t i n finitude, i n a n y c u l m i n a t i o n w h i c h necessitates its o w n e n d i n g . It is ' a l o n g i n g w h i c h , i n its i n f i n i t y , c o u l d o n l y be a n " o b j e c t " to i t s e l f ; because this y e a r n i n g c a n n o t find f u l f i l m e n t i n f u l f i l m e n t it has to p e r p e t u a t e itself, a n d it does this i n the o n l y w a y p o s s i b l e , by p r o j e c t i n g its o w n ' e n d l e s s n e s s ' as the object o f its desire. T h e i n f i n i t u d e o f the y e a r n i n g b e c o m e s its o w n o b j e c t , a c l o s e d c i r c l e o f s e l f - p e r p e t u a t i n g desire (pp. 1 5 6 - 9 ) . D e s i r e b e c o m e s p a r a d o x i c a l i n a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y r o m a n t i c w a y : is it u l t i m a t e l y a n e x p e r i e n c e o f life at its m o s t intense, o r the desire n o t to be, the f l i g h t f r o m life - o r are these i n s e p a r a b l e if n o t n e a r l y e q u i v a l e n t ? In

1882 N i e t z s c h e w r i t e s , ' M y W a g n e r m a n i a c e r t a i n l y cost me

d e a r . H a s n o t this n e r v e - s h a t t e r i n g m u s i c r u i n e d m y h e a l t h ? ' ( L e t t e r s , ed.

M i d d l e t o n , p . 180). H i s rejection o f the c o m p o s e r b e c o m e s f u n d a -

mentally a question of health, and involves a vehement

aesthetic/

e t h i c a l d i v i s i o n b e t w e e n those w h o e m b o d y a n o v e r f u l l n e s s o f life and

those w h o negate a n d hate it - the latter b e i n g e x e m p l i f i e d by

S c h o p e n h a u e r to a degree, a n d by W a g n e r m u c h m o r e so. W a g n e r e x e m p l i f i e s the ' w e a r i n e s s o f the s o u l ' a n d deals i n ' o p i a t e s o f the senses a n d the u n d e r s t a n d i n g ' ; he is ' a d e c a y i n g a n d d e s p a i r i n g d e c a d e n t , [ w h o ] s u d d e n l y s a n k d o w n , helpless a n d b r o k e n , before Christian cross' ( N i e t z s c h e

Contra

Wagner,

p p . 663, 6 6 9 - 7 1 ,

the 673,

676). T h e r e j e c t i o n o f W a g n e r is u l t i m a t e l y a r e f u s a l o f the desire ' t o w i t h d r a w f r o m p a i n i n t o that N o t h i n g , i n t o m u t e , r i g i d ,

240

deaf

NIETZSCHE

AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND

WAGNER

r e s i g n a t i o n , s e l f - f o r g e t t i n g , s e l f - e x t i n c t i o n ' . N i e t z s c h e urges i n s t e a d t h a t w e e m b r a c e p a i n , because it m a k e s us m o r e p r o f o u n d : a t h i n g is m a d e s t r o n g e r b y w h a t e v e r does n o t k i l l it (pp. 6 8 0 - 8 1 ; cf.

Ecce

H o m o , p. 11). B u t he never e n t i r e l y escapes the p u l l o f W a g n e r . W h o , N i e t z s c h e had

a s k e d i n h i s e a r l y w o r k T h e B i r t h o f T r a g e d y (1872), c o u l d h e a r

the t h i r d act o f T r i s t a n a n d I s o l d e ' w i t h o u t e x h a u s t i n g h i m s e l f i n the overstretching of his soul's p i n i o n s ' ? H e continues: How

is it possible for a man w h o has listened to the very heartbeat of the

w o r l d - w i l l and felt the unruly lust for life rush into all the veins of the w o r l d , n o w as a thundering torrent and n o w as a delicately foaming brook - h o w is it possible for h i m to remain unshattered? H o w can he bear, shut i n the paltry glass bell of his individuality, to hear the echoes of innumerable cries of weal and woe sounding out of the 'vast spaces of cosmic night', and not w i s h , amidst these pipings of metaphysical pastoral, to flee incontinent to his p r i m o r d i a l home? (p. 127) B u t , a d d s , N i e t z s c h e , the w o r k does n o t f i n a l l y shatter us i n this w a y , because the A p o l l o n i a n s p i r i t rescues us f r o m the D i o n y s i a c v i s i o n . His

a c c o u n t o f h o w this o c c u r s is u n c e r t a i n a n d a m b i v a l e n t .

(One

r e c a l l s here N i e t z s c h e ' s o w n r e t r o s p e c t i v e d e s c r i p t i o n o f T h e B i r t h o f T r a g e d y as ' q u i t e i m p o s s i b l e ' a n d ' f u l l o f u n p a l a t a b l e f e r m e n t ' (pp. 5 6 ) . ) O n the o n e h a n d , the A p o l l o n i a n e l e m e n t , as i l l u s i o n , succeeds i n t r i u m p h i n g o v e r the D i o n y s i a c ; o n the o t h e r h a n d , at the p o i n t t h a t m a t t e r s m o s t , the A p o l l o n i a n i l l u s i o n is b r o k e n t h r o u g h a n d d e s t r o y e d ; the D i o n y s i a c t r i u m p h s a g a i n (pp. 1 2 8 - 3 0 ) . A n A p o l l o n i a n i l l u s i o n s e e m i n g l y r e c o n s t i t u t e s 'the n e a r l y s h a t t e r e d i n d i v i d u a l ' ; he is b o u g h t b a c k f r o m a p o i n t w h e r e his h o l d o n l i f e has been r e n d e r e d ' t e n u o u s ' (p. 128). B u t the p u l l o f D i o n y s i a c ecstasy - w h i c h is t o say a n n i h i l a t i o n — r e m a i n s the s t r o n g e r . E v e n here, i n his p r o - W a g n e r p e r i o d , the l i f e - a f f i r m i n g q u a l i t i e s t h a t N i e t z s c h e w a n t e d t o find i n the c o m p o s e r are t e n u o u s ; r a t h e r s t r o n g e r is the p u l l o f e x t i n c t i o n . Y e a r s later he h a d n o t r e a l l y c h a n g e d h i s m i n d : i n E c c e

Homo,

w r i t t e n i n 1888, s h o r t l y b e f o r e h i s b r e a k d o w n , N i e t z s c h e declares t h a t he h a d never e n c o u n t e r e d a w o r k o f s u c h ' d a n g e r o u s f a s c i n a t i o n , o f a sweet a n d s h u d d e r y i n f i n i t y e q u a l t o t h a t o f T r i s t a n ' , a d d i n g , ' T h e w o r l d is p o o r f o r h i m w h o

h a s never

241

been sick enough

for this

DEATH,

D E S I R E A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N C U L T U R E

" v o l u p t u o u s n e s s o f h e l l " : t o e m p l o y a m y s t i c ' s f o r m u l a is p e r m i s s i b l e , a l m o s t o b l i g a t o r y , h e r e . ' B u t t h e n c o m e s the c r u c i a l d i f f e r e n c e b e t w e e n the e a r l i e r a n d the later response - a n e x i s t e n t i a l ethic t h a t t r a n s v a l u e s the s i c k i n t o the v i t a l : as I a m strong enough to turn even the most questionable and most perilous things to my o w n advantage and thus to become stronger, I call Wagner the great benefactor of my life. (p. 31; my emphasis) N i e t z s c h e accepts t h a t he is i n n a t e l y c o n f l i c t e d , l i t e r a l l y c o n s t i t u t e d by c o n t r a d i c t o r y tendencies t o w a r d s life a n d h e a l t h o n the o n e h a n d , d e a t h a n d d e c a d e n c e o n the o t h e r . T h e s e o p p o s e d tendencies i n h e r i t e d , he says, f r o m his m o t h e r a n d f a t h e r r e s p e c t i v e l y : the

he first

i m p a r t e d the i n s t i n c t f o r 'ascent', the s e c o n d the i n s t i n c t to ' d e c l i n e ' . Ecce H o m o

begins w i t h the statement: 'as m y f a t h e r I h a v e a l r e a d y

d i e d . . . d o I n e e d t o say t h a t i n q u e s t i o n s o f d e c a d e n c e I a m e x p e r i e n c e d ? ' (pp. 8 - 9 , N i e t z s c h e ' s e m p h a s i s ; cf. p . 62). T h i s i n c o r p o r a t i o n i n t o h i m s e l f o f w h a t he despises is p r e s s u r e d b y a P r o t e s t a n t - s t y l e s e l f - o v e r c o m i n g ; d e c a d e n c e is t o be k n o w n i n t i m ately, the better t o be resisted i n the n a m e o f a m o r e f u n d a m e n t a l p u r i t y a n d h e a l t h i n h i m s e l f : 'every m o r b i d t r a i t is l a c k i n g i n m e ' . O v e r c o m i n g his o w n d e c a d e n t tendencies earns h i m the r i g h t t o c e n s o r t h e m i n others (pp. 9 - 1 0 , 37). I n those utterances w h e r e N i e t z s c h e s e e m i n g l y w a n t s t o escape f r o m the d e p t h m o d e l o f the self,

as

w h e n f o r e x a m p l e he speaks o f 'the entire surface o f c o n s c i o u s n e s s c o n s c i o u s n e s s i s a s u r f a c e ' , it is as i f he has to get r i d o f the deep self i n o r d e r to escape the d e c a d e n c e he hates.

Illness Nietzsche's p h i l o s o p h y owes m u c h to a radical, Protestant-inspired resistance t o the ' s p i r i t u a l ' sickness o f the self. E q u a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t w a s his l i t e r a l , p h y s i c a l s i c k n e s s . T h e ravages o f m u t a b i l i t y are felt m o s t i m m e d i a t e l y i n p h y s i c a l t e r m s , i n the d e t e r i o r a t i o n o f the b o d y

-

s o m e t h i n g w h i c h the severely i l l e x p e r i e n c e i n a c c e l e r a t e d a n d i n t e n s i fied w a y s . A n i n v a l i d , N i e t z s c h e l i v e d w i t h c h r o n i c p h y s i c a l d e t e r i o r a t i o n a n d disease. A t f o r t y - f i v e he w e n t i n s a n e , p o s s i b l y because o f 242

NIETZSCHE AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND WAGNER

s y p h i l i t i c i n f e c t i o n . W h e n he d e c l a r e d t h a t h i s e n t i r e p h i l o s o p h y w a s m a d e o u t o f h i s w i l l t o h e a l t h a n d life ( E c c e H o m o , p . 10), he m e a n t b o t h p h y s i c a l a n d s p i r i t u a l h e a l t h t o g e t h e r . A t t i m e s this w i l l t o h e a l t h h a d the i n t e n s i t y o f s e l f - h a t r e d , b u t w i t h o u t t h a t desire t o b e l o n g a n d c o n f o r m w h i c h self-hatred often produces. N i e t z s c h e v e e r e d b e t w e e n p e r i o d s o f c r e a t i v e ecstasy a n d j u b i l a t i o n a n d p e r i o d s o f c h r o n i c i l l n e s s , a n d the c o n t r a s t b e t w e e n t h e m w a s e x t r e m e . I n s p i r a t i o n gave a complete being outside of oneself . . . a depth of happiness i n w h i c h the most painful and gloomy things appear, not as an antithesis, but as conditioned, demanded, as a n e c e s s a r y colour w i t h i n such a superfluity of light . . . Everything is i n the highest degree involuntary but takes place as in a tempest of a feeling of freedom, of absoluteness, of power, of divinity . . . (p. 73) Illness, b y c o n t r a s t , w a s a state o f i n t o l e r a b l e distress, a d y i n g w i t h i n life (p. 75), the c o m p l e t e loss o f energy. I n h i s letters he speaks o f t e r r i b l e s u f f e r i n g , ' s c a r c e l y e n d u r a b l e ' h e a d a c h e s , a n d b e i n g o n the verge o f d e s p a i r , e x p e c t i n g d e a t h a n d m a n y t i m e s w a n t i n g t o die ( L e t t e r s , e d . L e v y , p p . 119, 148, 1 5 4 - 7 , 2 7 5 - 6 ) - I n 1879 he tells h i s p u b l i s h e r , 'I a m o n the verge o f d e s p e r a t i o n a n d h a v e s c a r c e l y a n y h o p e left. M y sufferings h a v e been t o o great, t o o p e r s i s t e n t . ' H e signs the letter ' A h a l f - b l i n d m a n ' (p. 1 2 1 ) . L a t e r t h a t s a m e y e a r he describes h i m s e l f as a n ' i n v a l i d ' w h o is ' e n c i r c l e d b y d e a t h ' . N o w i l l n e s s a n d d e p r e s s i o n seem i n s e p a r a b l e (as at o t h e r t i m e s - cf. p . 167), yet it is f o r t h a t v e r y r e a s o n t h a t he w a n t s t o k e e p the e n e r v a t i n g effects o f b o t h o u t o f h i s w o r k , a n d to i n s i s t t h a t s o m e h o w s u f f e r i n g e m p o w e r s a n d e n l i v e n s h i m . A n d so he asks Peter G a s t t o s c r u t i n i z e his latest w r i t i n g t o see i f there are any traces of suffering or depression to be found i n it. I d o n ' t b e l i e v e t h e r e a r e , and this very belief is a sign that there must be p o w e r s concealed in these views, and not the proofs of impotence and lassitude after w h i c h my enemies w i l l seek. (p. 1 2 1 )

8

In T h e G a y S c i e n c e he declares c o n f i d e n t l y t h a t he o w e s t o his sickness

243

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

a h i g h e r health - one w h i c h is made stronger by whatever does not k i l l it. 7 a l s o o w e m y p h i l o s o p h y t o i t . O n l y great pain is the ultimate liberator of the spirit . . . I doubt that such pain makes us 'better', but I k n o w that it makes us more profound. ( P o r t a b l e N i e t z s c h e ,

pp. 680-81)

In i m p o r t a n t respects N i e t z s c h e ' s p h i l o s o p h y , e s p e c i a l l y its v i t a l i s m , is a p r o j e c t e d f a n t a s y o f h e a l t h a n d o m n i p o t e n c e . H i s r e p u d i a t i o n o f the d e c a d e n t c o n t e m p o r a r y w o r l d is i n p a r t a p r o j e c t i o n o f h i s i l l n e s s , i n p a r t a n i d e n t i f i c a t i o n , even a n e m p a t h y , w i t h decadence

made

p o s s i b l e by i l l n e s s : 'I a m a d e c a d e n t ,

(Ecce

I a m also its a n t i t h e s i s '

H o m o , p . 10). Illness generates a f a n t a s y o f h e a l t h w h i c h t h e n b e c o m e s a v a n t a g e p o i n t f r o m w h i c h to e x p o s e the d e a t h - w i s h - ' t o l o o k d o w n f r o m the a b u n d a n c e a n d c e r t a i n t y o f r i c h l i f e i n t o the secret l a b o u r o f the i n s t i n c t o f d e c a d e n c e ' (pp. 9 - 1 0 ) . H e r e t o o N i e t z s c h e ' s c r i t i q u e 9

o f d e c a d e n c e is a r e p u d i a t i o n f o r g e d f r o m s e d u c t i o n . I n the p r e f a c e t o the s e c o n d e d i t i o n o f H u m a n , a l l t o o H u m a n , he speaks o f L o n g years of convalescence, years full of variegated, painfully magical transformations, ruled and led along by a tenacious w i l l t o h e a l t h w h i c h often ventures to clothe and disguise itself as health already achieved, (p. 8) It is u n d e r the ' s u d d e n i l l u m i n a t i o n o f a s t i l l stressful, s t i l l c h a n g e a b l e h e a l t h t h a t the free, ever freer s p i r i t begins to u n v e i l the r i d d l e o f t h a t great l i b e r a t i o n w h i c h has u n t i l t h e n w a i t e d d a r k , q u e s t i o n a b l e , a l m o s t u n t o u c h a b l e i n his m e m o r y ' (p. 9). T h i s w i l l to h e a l t h c e r t a i n l y i n c l u d e d e r o t i c i d e n t i f i c a t i o n : the desire f o r the o t h e r that o n e fantasizes a b o u t b e i n g b u t k n o w s o n e c a n n o t ever be. S o m e t i m e s

he a d m i r e s

the

(phallic?) m a n w h o , l a c k i n g k n o w l e d g e , a f u l l range o f f e e l i n g , j u d g e m e n t a n d v i r t u a l l y e v e r y t h i n g else, nevertheless w i l l ' s t a n d there i n s u p e r l a t i v e h e a l t h a n d v i g o u r , a j o y to a l l w h o see h i m ' . It is the same l a c k o f ' c u l t u r e ' w h i c h m a k e s p o s s i b l e ' a s i m p l e act o f w i l l a n d d e s i r e ' f o r w h i c h the s e x u a l act is p r e s u m a b l y a p a r a d i g m . T h e m a n o f c u l t u r e a n d d i s c r i m i n a t i o n is s i c k b y c o m p a r i s o n ( U s e s a n d D i s a d v a n t a g e s , p . 63; cf. T w i l i g h t , p . 7 2 ) .

10

244

NIETZSCHE

AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND

WAGNER

Embracing mutability N i e t z s c h e is o f c o u r s e q u i t e r i g h t t o r e g a r d the W e s t e r n p h i l o s o p h i c a l t r a d i t i o n as p r o f o u n d l y d i s t u r b e d by m u t a b i l i t y - ' c h a n g e , a p p e a r a n c e , m u t a t i o n , b e c o m i n g ' - a n d so m u c h so, i n f a c t , t h a t it h a d t o r e g a r d it as the s o u r c e o f e r r o r a n d o f b e i n g l e d a s t r a y , to be c o n t r a s t e d w i t h an u n c h a n g i n g r e a l i t y b e h i n d a n d b e y o n d the w o r l d o f c h a n g e w h i c h t h e n b e c a m e the t r u e c r i t e r i o n o f b e i n g . A s he p u t s it i n T h e W i l l t o P o w e r , p h i l o s o p h e r s fear ' a p p e a r a n c e ,

change, p a i n , death,

the

c o r p o r e a l , the senses, fate a n d b o n d a g e , the a i m l e s s ' (p. 220). A n d t h i s , f o r N i e t z s c h e , is the u n d e r l y i n g p r o b l e m ; w e r e m a i n ' e n t a n g l e d i n e r r o r , n e c e s s i t a t e d to e r r o r , to p r e c i s e l y the e x t e n t t h a t o u r p r e j u d i c e in

f a v o u r o f r e a s o n c o m p e l s us t o p o s i t u n i t y , i d e n t i t y , d u r a t i o n ,

substance,

cause, materiality, being' ( T w i l i g h t ,

p . 37). T h i s

search

f o r the i m m u t a b l e , the p e r m a n e n t antithesis o f m u t a b i l i t y , is w h a t e v e n t u a l l y p r o d u c e s d e c a d e n c e a n d e x h a u s t i o n ; the m e t a p h y s i c s w h i c h has

been

so i n f l u e n t i a l i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e ' s energetic c e n t r i f u g a l

e x p a n s i v e n e s s a n d i n c l u s i v e n e s s is a l s o r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the e x h a u s t i o n w h i c h haunts it. I d e a l l y , f o r N i e t z s c h e , m a n ' s v e r y v u l n e r a b i l i t y t o s p i r i t u a l sickness b e c o m e s a s o u r c e o f s t r e n g t h . h i s restlessness leads h i m to h e r o i c a l l y o v e r r e a c h h i m s e l f . A n d even w h e n he gives i n to c h r o n i c

world-

w e a r i n e s s - as, a l l e g e d l y , i n m e d i e v a l t i m e s - even t h e n this tedium, this weariness, this satiety breaks from h i m w i t h such vehemence that at once it forges a new fetter to existence. As if by magic, his negations produce a wealth of tenderer affirmations. W h e n this master of destruction, of self-destruction, wounds himself, it is that very w o u n d that forces h i m to live. ( G e n e a l o g y , p. 257) H e r e a g a i n is the h e r o i c , s a c r i f i c i a l e l e m e n t i n N i e t z s c h e - i n p l a c e o f t r a n s c e n d e n c e is a n e c s t a t i c , r i s k - f u l l i m m e r s i o n i n m u t a b i l i t y , a w o r l d w h i c h p r o m i s e s j o y even as it leads us astray ( T w i l i g h t , p . 37). H e insists t h a t m u t a b i l i t y is i n e v e r y t h i n g , i n c l u d i n g t h o u g h t ,

thereby

c o n t r a d i c t i n g t h a t p h i l o s o p h i c a l t r a d i t i o n w h i c h declares t h a t r e a s o n c a n l e a d us t o i m m u t a b l e t r u t h .

1 1

N o t h i n g r e m a i n s stable - e s p e c i a l l y

245

DEATH,

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A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

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n o t t h o u g h t - a n d o n e lives this i n s t a b i l i t y p r e c a r i o u s l y a n d o f t e n s a c r i f i c i a l l y ; thus the great h u m a n b e i n g (and the e r o t i c u r g e n c y o f this p h i l o s o p h y is o n c e a g a i n clear) expends himself.

. . The instinct of self-preservation is as it were suspended;

the overwhelming pressure of the energies w h i c h emanate f r o m h i m forbids h i m any such care and prudence. ( T w i l i g h t , p. 98) S u f f e r i n g has t o be e m b r a c e d , a n d never r e l u c t a n t l y ; it has t o be r e f i n e d a n d w o r k e d o n so t h a t it b e c o m e s e n e r g i z i n g r a t h e r t h a n d e b i l i t a t i n g , a n d u l t i m a t e l y the s o u r c e o f j o y - t h o u g h a j o y a l w a y s u n d e r p r e s s u r e , a n d i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m sacrifice a n d destructiveness. T h i s life-aesthetic a f f i r m s a s t r e n u o u s e n g a g e m e n t w i t h m u t a b i l i t y as n o t the e n e m y b u t the essence o f l i f e : A f f i r m a t i o n of life even i n its strangest and sternest problems, the w i l l to life rejoicing i n its o w n inexhaustibility through the sacrifice

of its highest

types - t h a t is what I call D i o n y s i a n . . . t o r e a l i z e i n o n e s e l f

the eternal

joy of becoming - that joy w h i c h also encompasses j o y i n d e s t r u c t i o n . . . (p. 110) A n d yet w i t h i n fantasies o f sacrifice r e m a i n even s t r o n g e r fantasies o f m a s t e r y , c o n t r o l , r e p u d i a t i o n a n d p u r i f i c a t i o n , a n d a n u r g e n t desire to fight the degenerates w h o are the b e l e a g u e r i n g enemies o f these 'highest t y p e s ' . T h e r e is, f o r i n s t a n c e , N i e t z s c h e ' s insistence o n t r y i n g to g a i n s t r e n g t h f r o m w h a t o p p o s e s h i m : I am strong enough to turn even the most questionable and most perilous things to my o w n advantage and thus to become stronger. ( E c c e

Homo,

p. 31; cf. p p . 11 and 17) A s he says m o r e t h a n o n c e , w h a t d o e s n ' t k i l l h i m w i l l m a k e h i m s t r o n g e r - a n i d e a w h i c h assumes a k i n d o f m a g i c a l , c a n n i b a l i s t i c i n g e s t i o n , the f a n t a s y t r a n s m u t a t i o n o f a n e n d a n g e r i n g o t h e r i n t o a s t r e n g t h e n i n g same. M o r e g e n e r a l l y , the aesthetic v i e w o f life is at heart a n a m o r a l v i t a l i s t i c p h i l o s o p h y o r f a n t a s y o f energy, e s p e c i a l l y the energy to d e s t r o y — the ' j o y i n d e s t r u c t i o n ' — w h i c h finds e x p r e s s i o n i n w a r : 'there w i l l be w a r s s u c h as there have never been yet o n e a r t h ' (p. 97; cf. p . 52: 'the harshest b u t m o s t necessary w a r s ' ) .

1 2

N i e t z s c h e r e p u d i a t e s the t r a d i t i o n a l p h i l o s o p h i c a l quest f o r t r a n 246

NIETZSCHE

scendent

AGAINST SCHOPENHAUER AND

WAGNER

b e i n g (stasis, d u r a t i o n , i d e n t i t y , p e r f e c t i o n ) ,

celebrating

i n s t e a d b e c o m i n g (energy, f l u x , c h a n g e , l o s s , t r a n s i e n c e , i m p e r f e c t i o n ) . B u t the desire f o r p e r f e c t i o n r e m a i n s , o n l y n o w it is p l a y e d o u t i n this w o r l d , a n d w i t h a vengeance. H i s w i l l e d , intensely m o r a l a n d sacrificial i m m e r s i o n i n m u t a b i l i t y a n d loss p r o d u c e s a n aesthetic o f

energy

w h i c h is a n t i - C h r i s t i a n ( A n t i - C h r i s t , p . 186), a n t i - s o c i a l i s t (p.

179),

anti-democratic

anti-

(pp. 1 7 8 - 9 ) , s o m e t i m e s

r e c o g n i z a b l y fascist,

w o m a n , a n d p r e p a r e d to a d m i n i s t e r r a t h e r t h a n s u b m i t t o d e a t h : N o t contentment, but more power; n o t peace at a l l , but war; n o t virtue, but proficiency . . . T h e weak and ill-constituted shall perish: first principle of o u r philanthropy. A n d one shall help them to do so. W h a t is more harmful than any vice? - Active sympathy for the ill-constituted and weak - Christianity . . . (p. 1 1 6 ) H e n c e the v i t a l i s t i c fantasies o f p u n i t i v e l y c l e a n s i n g the w o r l d o f a l l f o r m s o f s o c i a l d e a t h , o f e n g a g i n g i n 'the remorseless d e s t r u c t i o n o f a l l d e g e n e r a t e a n d p a r a s i t i c e l e m e n t s ' i n the n a m e o f ' a t r e m e n d o u s p u r i f i c a t i o n . . . o f m a n k i n d ' ( E c c e H o m o , p p . 51, 53). F r e u d s a i d the w i l l t o p o w e r is o n l y the d e a t h i n s t i n c t t u r n e d o u t w a r d s . I n i t i a l l y the d e a t h i n s t i n c t d o m i n a t e s the o r g a n i s m , s e e k i n g t o d i s i n t e g r a t e it i n t o a state o f i n o r g a n i c s t a b i l i t y . T h e l i b i d o has the t a s k o f ' t a m i n g . . . the d e a t h i n s t i n c t ' , o f r e n d e r i n g it i n n o c u o u s w i t h r e g a r d t o the o r g a n i s m itself, ' b y d i v e r t i n g [it] t o a great e x t e n t o u t w a r d s . . . t o w a r d s objects i n the e x t e r n a l w o r l d . T h e i n s t i n c t is t h e n c a l l e d the d e s t r u c t i v e i n s t i n c t , the i n s t i n c t f o r m a s t e r y , o r the w i l l to p o w e r ' ('The Nietzsche's

aggressive

E c o n o m i c P r o b l e m o f M a s o c h i s m ' , p . 418). aesthetic c e r t a i n l y derives p a r t l y f r o m

his

struggle a g a i n s t , a n d t u r n i n g o u t w a r d s of, the d e a t h w a r d tendencies o f d e c a d e n c e w h i c h he b e l i e v e d to be e n d e m i c i n W e s t e r n c u l t u r e , a n d t o w h i c h he h i m s e l f o n his o w n c o n f e s s i o n w a s d e e p l y s u s c e p t i b l e . H e r e c o n c e p t u a l i z e d c h a n g e as the essence a n d n o t the e n e m y o f l i f e , and

b u i l t f r o m it a n aesthetics o f energy r a t h e r t h a n a n ethics

of

t r a n s c e n d e n c e . N o w the c u l t u r a l p u r v e y o r s o f d e a t h h a d themselves t o be d e s t r o y e d , a n d t h e i r d e s t r u c t i o n w a s i m a g i n e d w i t h a n i n t e n s i t y w h i c h s e e m i n g l y c a m e o f f r u s t r a t i o n . N i e t z s c h e celebrates s a c r i f i c i a l , h e r o i c i m m e r s i o n i n the o m n i p o t e n t f l u x o f l i f e , b u t does so f r o m a p o s i t i o n o f e r u d i t i o n , w i t h d r a w a l a n d r e l a t i v e i m p o t e n c e ; h i s is a

247

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p h i l o s o p h y w h i c h c o u l d o n l y be c o n c e i v e d b y the m o d e r n i s t m a n o f i n a c t i o n f o r w h o m ecstasy is a b o u t the d o u b l e process o f a m a s o c h i s t i c submission to change a n d a sadistic identification w i t h it.

248

I7 Ecstasy and Annihilation: Georges Bataille

L i f e is a n excess o f energy w h i c h finally c a n o n l y be w a s t e d

rather

t h a n c o n s e r v e d , a f o r c e o f ' n o n - p r o d u c t i v e e x p e n d i t u r e ' , excessive a n d useless, a n e f f u s i o n f u n d a m e n t a l l y c o n t r a r y t o e q u i l i b r i u m . T h i s , f o r G e o r g e s B a t a i l l e ( 1 8 9 7 - 1 9 6 2 ) , is the e x h i l a r a t i n g b u t t e r r i b l e t r u t h of being: I insist on the fact that there is generally no growth but only a luxurious squandering of energy i n every f o r m ! T h e history of life on earth is mainly the effect of a w i l d exuberance. ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , 1.10-11; cf. 1.12, 22, 3 3 4; II.84-5) Or,

as he p u t s it i n E r o t i s m ,

disequilibrium . . .

' L i f e is n o t h i n g b u t i n s t a b i l i t y a n d

a s w e l l i n g t u m u l t c o n t i n u o u s l y o n the verge

of

e x p l o s i o n ' (pp. 5 9 - 6 0 ) . F o r B a t a i l l e , the s u p r e m e i n s t a n c e sun.

o f life as e x p e n d i t u r e is the

T h e v e r y s o u r c e o f l i f e , it dispenses

its energy w i t h o u t a n y

r e t u r n , w h i c h m e a n s o f c o u r s e t h a t u l t i m a t e l y it m u s t e x p e n d itself c o m p l e t e l y a n d b u r n o u t . A n d , just as the s u n w i l l d o this v i o l e n t l y , so a l l l i f e is r o o t e d i n the d e s t r u c t i o n o f l i f e , o f itself: 'the g r o u n d w e l i v e o n is l i t t l e o t h e r t h a n a field o f m u l t i p l e d e s t r u c t i o n s ' . s q u a n d e r i n g o f life is i n s e p a r a b l e

f r o m a ceaseless d e s t r u c t i o n

The of

p r o p e r t y a n d b o d i e s ; it is this f a c t w h i c h ' u l t i m a t e l y c o n n e c t s l i f e w i t h the senseless l u x u r y a n d excess o f d e a t h ' ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , 1.28, 2-3,

34-5). T h e f a c t t h a t l i f e is r i v e n w i t h l o s s , m u t a b i l i t y , d e a t h a n d d e s t r u c t i o n

is, f o r B a t a i l l e , a s o u r c e o f h u m a n a n g u i s h . B u t this s a m e f a c t is a l s o , m o r e f u n d a m e n t a l l y a n d r e m a r k a b l y , the cause o f e x h i l a r a t i o n w h e n w e r e c o g n i z e it as the c o n d i t i o n o f life itself; a n g u i s h is 249

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w h e n w e p r o f o u n d l y - t h a t is, s a c r i f i c i a l l y , m a s o c h i s t i c a l l y - i d e n t i f y w i t h , rather t h a n d i s a v o w , this t r u t h o f b e i n g . H e is e m p h a t i c

about

this: d e a t h a n d r u i n - ' T h i s c o l o s s a l w a s t e , this s q u a n d e r i n g a n n i h i l a t i o n ' - are n o t o n l y necessary f o r l i f e , they are also its m o s t c o m p l e t e e x p r e s s i o n . D e a t h is the c o n d i t i o n o f b i r t h , a n d life is a p r o d u c t o f p u t r e f a c t i o n . D e a t h , f o r B a t a i l l e , is n o t h i n g less t h a n 'the y o u t h o f the w o r l d ' ( E r o t i s m , p p . 5 9 - 6 0 ; A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II.80, 84). B a t a i l l e ' s w r i t i n g is m o r e i n f l u e n t i a l n o w t h a n ever b e f o r e . O n e r e a s o n is t h a t it offers the same a d v o c a c y o f flux a n d c h a n g e as i n N i e t z s c h e , b u t i n a m u c h m o r e e x t r e m e f o r m - e x t e n d i n g to a deep f a s c i n a t i o n w i t h d i s s o l u t i o n , a n n i h i l a t i o n a n d d e a t h w h i c h recalls attitudes f a m i l i a r i n the m e d i e v a l a n d early m o d e r n p e r i o d s (of w h i c h B a t a i l l e w a s a student). W i t h B a t a i l l e , the desire f o r a n n i h i l a t i o n i n v o l v e s a n i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h the energy o f the l i f e - f o r c e w h i c h f i n a l l y a b a n d o n s the t r a d i t i o n a l life/death d u a l i s m ; the ' i n c e s s a n t m o t i o n ' o f d e a t h is n o w b a r e l y d i s t i n g u i s h a b l e f r o m the l i f e - f o r c e , a n d the h u m a n i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h it is stronger t h a n ever.

W o r k and

prohibition

B a t a i l l e observes t h a t the p r e v a i l i n g a t t i t u d e o f h u m a n k i n d to this f u n d a m e n t a l t r u t h o f life as a s q u a n d e r i n g a n n i h i l a t i o n is, p r e d i c t a b l y , one o f d i s a v o w a l . In fact the w h o l e o f c u l t u r e is b u i l t u p o n t h a t d i s a v o w a l , a n d e s p e c i a l l y those aspects o f it w h i c h i n v o l v e the i m p e r a tives o f l a b o u r , p r o h i b i t i o n , p r o d i g a l i t y , a c q u i s i t i o n a n d u t i l i t y , a l l 1

o f w h i c h have r e n d e r e d h u m a n k i n d servile, a n d n o w h e r e m o r e

so

t h a n u n d e r c a p i t a l i s m , w h i c h adheres q u i n t e s s e n t i a l l y to the a n t i - l i f e p r i n c i p l e o f p r o d u c i n g at the least expense ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II. 15, 8 5 ) . In the service o f c u l t u r e , m a n incessantly negates a n d t r a n s f o r m s 2

b o t h n a t u r e a n d the a n i m a l i n h i m s e l f . If one o b v i o u s w a y o f d o i n g 3

this is t h r o u g h w o r k a n d p r o h i b i t i o n , a n o t h e r less o b v i o u s b u t e q u a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t w a y is t h r o u g h e r o t i c i s m . E r o t i c i s m is the c e r e b r a l s e x u a l a c t i v i t y o f m a n , as o p p o s e d to a n i m a l s , a n d this m a k e s it d i f f e r e n t f r o m , even o p p o s e d t o , s e x u a l i t y ( I I . 5 2 - 3 ) . Y e t the u n d e r l y i n g n a t u r a l r e a l i t y o f e x p e n d i t u r e u n t o d e a t h exerts a f a t a l a t t r a c t i o n s t i l l , even i n s i d e c a p i t a l i s m ; s o m e w h e r e deep d o w n 250

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BATAILLE

w e desire t o get b a c k t o i t , t o shatter c u l t u r a l r e s t r a i n t a n d l i v e a g a i n - to squander, expend, destroy: we are constantly tempted to abandon w o r k , patience and the slow accumulation of resources for a contrary movement, where suddenly we squander the accumulated riches, where we waste and lose as much as we can. (II. 107) M o r e f u n d a m e n t a l l y , it is t h r o u g h e r o t i c i s m t h a t w e are s e d u c e d b y the p u l l o f a n n i h i l a t i o n ; w e r e a l l y d o w a n t d e a t h t o ' w r e a k its h a v o c at o u r e x p e n s e '

( E r o t i s m , p p . 5 9 - 6 0 ) . D e a t h is e x p e r i e n c e d

most

i n t e n s e l y as d e s i r e . H o w e v e r - a n d t h i s is c r u c i a l - the h u m a n p e r c e p t i o n o f the t r u t h o f l i f e as e x p e n d i t u r e c a n n o w o c c u r o n l y f r o m i n s i d e c u l t u r e ; t h a t i s , f r o m i n s i d e the set o f d i s a v o w a l s w h i c h c o n s t i t u t e s

culture. T h i s

m e a n s t h a t m a n is a s p l i t , d i v i d e d b e i n g . T o t h i n k t h a t w e c a n s i m p l y r e t u r n t o the n a t u r a l o r d e r (or r a t h e r n a t u r a l d i s o r d e r — the c o n d i t i o n o f a n i m a l i t y w h i c h p r e c e d e d p r o h i b i t i o n ) is n a i v e i n the e x t r e m e , since h u m a n n a t u r e is n o w p a r t l y c o n s t i t u t e d b y the v e r y p r o h i b i t i o n s w h i c h s e p a r a t e us f r o m i t : ' [ A n ] a b h o r r e n c e

o f n a t u r e [is] b u i l t i n t o o u r

essence' ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II.23, 70). A t the s a m e t i m e , w e c a n n e v e r s i m p l y c o m p l y w i t h the p r o h i b i t i o n s o f c u l t u r e . M a n i n i t i a l l y r e v o l t e d a g a i n s t the n a t u r a l w o r l d (life as excessive, n o n - p r o d u c t i v e e x p e n d i t u r e ) , b u t n o w r e v o l t s a g a i n s t the v e r y p r o h i b i t i o n s he e s t a b l i s h e d t o p r o t e c t h i m s e l f a g a i n s t the n a t u r a l . B u t this s e c o n d a r y r e v o l t c a n n o t be c o n d u c t e d f r o m the p o s i t i o n o f the n a t u r a l , even t h o u g h

that

c o n t i n u e s t o e x e r t its f o r c e : Since m a n has uprooted himself f r o m nature, that being w h o returns to it is still uprooted, he is an uprooted being w h o suddenly goes back t o w a r d that f r o m w h i c h he is uprooted, f r o m w h i c h he has not ceased to uproot himself. (II.77, 90) T h e c o n s e q u e n c e o f this is t h a t desire r e m a i n s c o n f l i c t e d a n d p o t e n t i a l l y a l i e n a t e d f r o m itself; it is the fate o f h u m a n k i n d t o be c o n s t i t u t e d by a fundamental ambivalence

t o w a r d s life itself, a n

alternation

b e t w e e n r e p u l s i o n a n d transgressive a t t r a c t i o n (II.48). B u t this is a l s o constitutive of h u m a n achievement: h u m a n i t y originates i n a 'maze of r e a c t i o n s ' , a n d the f a c t t h a t it never ceases t o ' m a i n t a i n a s u m o f s t u b b o r n and

i n c o m p a t i b l e , i m p o s s i b l y r i g o r o u s r e a c t i o n s is s o m e t h i n g w o r t h y 251

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of admiration; i n d e e d n o t h i n g m e r i t s t h e s a m e d e g r e e o f a d m i r a t i o n ' (II.82, 18). O n e o f the m o s t s i g n i f i c a n t c o n f l i c t s is that b e t w e e n desire a n d d i s g u s t . W e e x p e r i e n c e a p r o f o u n d a t t r a c t i o n to the n a t u r a l w o r l d (life as excess, e x p e n d i t u r e , d i s s o l u t i o n ) , yet a l o n g s i d e (or

rather

inside) t h a t a t t r a c t i o n is a r e v u l s i o n , steeped i n ' l a s t i n g r e p u l s i o n s a n d i n s u r m o u n t a b l e d i s g u s t ' (II.23, 52, 7 0 , 2 8 ) . F r e u d h a d f o u n d i n the 4

i n d i v i d u a l a s i m i l a r c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n desire a n d disgust w h i c h replicates the l a r g e r c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n i n s t i n c t a n d c i v i l i z a t i o n . A n d one r e a s o n why

this c o n f l i c t threatens to w r e c k the h u m a n subject is because it

entails the h o s t i l e , u n s t a b l e , r a d i c a l i n t i m a c y o f e a c h t e r m w i t h the o t h e r : at o n e m o m e n t desire finds, i n w h a t w a s o n c e d i s g u s t i n g , a p l e a s u r e w h o s e i n t e n s i t y it c o u l d never have k n o w n w i t h o u t t h a t h i s t o r y o f d i s g u s t ; at a n o t h e r m o m e n t desire gives w a y to a c i v i l i z i n g r e v u l s i o n the m o r e intense because its h i s t o r y is g r o u n d e d i n the v e r y desire it d i s p l a c e s . T h i s d i a l e c t i c f a s c i n a t e d G e o r g e B a t a i l l e ; it w o u l d h a r d l y be a n e x a g g e r a t i o n t o say that he f o u n d e d a n entire a n t h r o p o l ogy u p o n it.

Transgression A r e c u r r i n g p o i n t i n B a t a i l l e is that p r o h i b i t i o n , i n h i b i t i o n , h o r r o r , disgust - a l l ' h e i g h t e n the i n t e n s i t y o f e r o t i c p l e a s u r e ' ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II. 167). A n d , despite e v e r y t h i n g , this is a p o s i t i v e g a i n w h i c h ' c a n be s u m m e d u p i n a s i m p l e statement: the force o f a m o v e m e n t , w h i c h r e p r e s s i o n i n c r e a s e d t e n f o l d , p r o j e c t e d life i n t o a r i c h e r w o r l d ' (II.93). T h i s is w h y w e are s e x u a l l y a t t r a c t e d t o w a r d s w h a t is f o r b i d d e n . W h e r e a s F r e u d w a s i n c l i n e d to r e g a r d the a t t r a c t i o n o f the f o r b i d d e n as a residue o f a p r i m i t i v e s e x u a l i t y w h i c h has escaped

repression,

B a t a i l l e w o u l d see it as p a r t l y t h a t , b u t a l s o , a n d p r o b a b l y

5

more

i m p o r t a n t l y , as e r o t i c i s m o v e r d e t e r m i n e d a n d i m m e a s u r a b l y i n t e n s i fied b y this h i s t o r y o f the p r o h i b i t i o n it transgresses. F r e u d s o m e t i m e s c l a i m e d that s e x u a l i t y i n the c i v i l i z e d c o n t e x t is o n l y a n i n f e r i o r v e r s i o n o f w h a t it o n c e w a s , a n d i n c a p a b l e o f g i v i n g r e a l s a t i s f a c t i o n ; f o r B a t a i l l e it is p r e c i s e l y the c i v i l i z e d c o n t e x t w h i c h heightens e r o t i c i s m . B u t a g a i n there is a deep a m b i v a l e n c e here; desire a n d a v e r s i o n are 252

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i n e x t r i c a b l e . E r o t i c i s m is i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m r e p u g n a n c e - f r o m 'the a b h o r r e n c e o f s e x u a l i t y , o r the sense t h a t it is filthy'. T h i s is n o t s i m p l y d a n g e r - t h a t s i m p l y f r i g h t e n s o n e a w a y . R a t h e r it is ' a h o r r o r o f p r o h i b i t i o n t h a t keeps o n e i n the a n g u i s h o f t e m p t a t i o n ' . E v e r y h o r r o r c o n c e a l s the p o s s i b i l i t y o f e n t i c e m e n t , b u t w i t h the q u a l i f i c a t i o n t h a t excessive h o r r o r p a r a l y s e s desire (II.82, 9 6 ; cf. II.149). I n o n e p l a c e B a t a i l l e speaks o f l o o k i n g d o w n f r o m a great h e i g h t u n p r o t e c t e d b y a guard-rail: the view may cause us to step back, but the image of the possible f a l l , w h i c h is connected w i t h it, may also suggest that we jump, i n spite or because of the death we w i l l find there. T h i s depends on the sum of available energy w h i c h remains i n us, under pressure, but i n a certain disequilibrium. W h a t i s c e r t a i n i s t h a t t h e l u r e of t h e v o i d a n d o f r u i n a t i o n d o e s n o t i n a n y w a y c o r r e s p o n d t o a d i m i n i s h e d v i t a l i t y . (II. 108; my emphasis) F o r B a t a i l l e , t o be s o m e h o w b e h o l d e n t o the self-same o r d e r w h i c h o n e d e s p e r a t e l y desires t o transgress is n o t just b o u r g e o i s h y p o c r i s y o r e x i s t e n t i a l b a d f a i t h b u t the p r o f o u n d a n d i n e s c a p a b l e c o n d i t i o n o f b e i n g h u m a n . L i k e w i s e w i t h a m b i v a l e n c e a n d the c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n a t t r a c t i o n a n d r e p u l s i o n : this is n o m e r e i n d i v i d u a l p a t h o l o g y b u t , a g a i n , the c o n d i t i o n o f b e i n g h u m a n . F o r B a t a i l l e w e m o s t t r u l y a r e t h a t s h u d d e r o f r e v u l s i o n a g a i n s t , w h i c h is a l s o a n intense, a m b i v a l e n t desire f o r . H i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t r a n s g r e s s i o n is e x c e p t i o n a l , as f o r i n s t a n c e w h e n he r e m a r k s t h a t T o shrink f r o m fundamental stability isn't less cowardly than to hesitate about shattering it. Perpetual i n s t a b i l i t y is m o r e b o r i n g than adhering strictly to a rule. ( G u i l t y , p p . 2 8 - 9 ) W h a t m o s t repulses us is p u t r e f a c t i o n ; there is n o greater h u m a n a v e r s i o n , says B a t a i l l e , t h a n t h a t felt t o w a r d s ' t h o s e u n s t a b l e , f e t i d a n d l u k e w a r m s u b s t a n c e s w h e r e life f e r m e n t s i g n o b l y . T h o s e s u b s t a n c e s w h e r e the eggs, g e r m s a n d m a g g o t s s w a r m . ' O n e r e a s o n w h y p u t r e f a c t i o n r e v o l t s is because I k n o w t h a t o n e d a y ' t h i s l i v i n g w o r l d w i l l p u l l u l a t e i n m y d e a d m o u t h ' . D e a t h is n o t just the a n n i h i l a t i o n o f b e i n g b u t t h i s ' s h i p w r e c k i n the n a u s e o u s ' , the k n o w l e d g e t h a t i n m y own

decomposition I w i l l once again become ' a n o n y m o u s , infinite

l i f e , w h i c h stretches f o r t h l i k e the n i g h t , w h i c h is d e a t h ' . 253

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CULTURE

is never p u r e n o n - b e i n g , b u t is ever-present i n life as c h a n g e a n d d e c o m p o s i t i o n : ' D e a t h is that p u t r e f a c t i o n , that stench . . . w h i c h i s at once t h esource

and t h erepulsive condition

o f life'

(Accursed

S h a r e , I I . 8 0 - 8 1 ; m y e m p h a s i s ) . L i f e i n its p r i m a l r e a l i t y is a state o f d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n so excessive that it i n c l u d e s w i t h i n itself the u n d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n o f d e a t h ; it is w i t h o u t l i m i t , w i t h o u t b o u n d a r i e s : the v i s c o u s m o v e m e n t w h i c h is the stuff o f life is also ' d e a t h g o r g i n g life w i t h d e c o m p o s e d s u b s t a n c e ' (II.95). A n d it is e r o t i c i s m w h i c h a l w a y s d r a w s us b a c k t o this t e r r i f y i n g p r o s p e c t : anguish, w h i c h lays us open to annihilation and death, is always linked to eroticism; our sexual activity finally rivets us to the distressing image of death, and the knowledge of death deepens the abyss of eroticism. T h e curse of decay constantly recoils on sexuality, w h i c h it tends to eroticize: in sexual anguish there is a sadness of death, an apprehension of death which . . . we w i l l never be able to shake off. (II.84) As

he p u t s it e l s e w h e r e , it is the f r a g r a n c e o f d e a t h w h i c h gives

s e x u a l i t y a l l its p o w e r (II.100).

6

A n n i h i l a t i o n o f self In e r o t i c i s m w e a l s o desire t o lose ourselves w i t h o u t r e s e r v a t i o n ; w e ask o f it that it 'uses u p o u r strength a n d o u r resources a n d , i f necessary, places o u r l i f e i n d a n g e r ' ; this is o n e r e a s o n w h y the object w e desire m o s t is that m o s t l i k e l y to e n d a n g e r o r d e s t r o y us. E r o t i c i s m ' d e m a n d s the greatest p o s s i b l e l o s s ' , a n d this is at heart w h a t w e w a n t — to lose ourselves a n d l o o k d e a t h i n the face ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , I I . 1 0 1 , 1 1 3 , 1 4 1 , 1 0 4 - 6 ) . E r o t i c i s m f r a g m e n t s the f r a g i l e coherence o f the self; it v i o l a t e s the ego. W h e n w e e x p e r i e n c e s e x u a l ecstasy w e are beside o u r s e l v e s ; our

u n i t y is shattered a n d w e w a l l o w i n b l i n d n e s s a n d o b l i v i o n ; the

p e r s o n a l i t y dies: 'desire is o n l y a r o u s e d as l o n g as its object causes a c h a s m n o less deep t h a n d e a t h to y a w n w i t h i n m e ' ( E r o t i s m , p p . 1 0 3 5, 59). A n d o b s c e n i t y is the n a m e w e give to the unease w h i c h d i s r u p t s 'the p o s s e s s i o n o f a r e c o g n i z e d a n d stable i n d i v i d u a l i t y ' (pp. 1 7 - 1 8 ) . A n g u i s h arises w h e n w e r e m a i n t r a p p e d i n i n d i v i d u a t i o n :

254

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AND ANNIHILATION: GEORGES

BATAILLE

A n g u i s h arises w h e n the anxious individual is not himself stretched tight by the feeling of superabundance. T h i s is precisely what evinces the isolated, individual character of anguish. There can be anguish only f r o m a personal, p a r t i c u l a r point of view that is radically opposed to the g e n e r a l point of view based o n the exuberance of living matter as a whole. A n g u i s h is meaningless for someone w h o overflows w i t h life, and for life as a whole, w h i c h is an overflowing by its very nature. ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , I . 3 9 )

8

U l t i m a t e l y w e w a n t d e a t h : ' A f e b r i l e u n r e s t w i t h i n us asks d e a t h t o w r e a k its h a v o c at o u r e x p e n s e ' ( E r o t i s m , p p . 5 9 - 6 0 ) . A n d w e w a n t it b e c a u s e 'the l u x u r y o f d e a t h is r e g a r d e d b y us i n the s a m e w a y as t h a t o f s e x u a l i t y , first as a n e g a t i o n o f o u r s e l v e s , t h e n — i n a s u d d e n r e v e r s a l - as the p r o f o u n d t r u t h o f t h a t m o v e m e n t o f w h i c h l i f e is the manifestation' ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , I . 3 4 - 5 ) . W e y e a r n f o r the s e x u a l e x p e r i e n c e o f d e a t h because it restores us t o the p r i m a l c o n t i n u i t y o f a l l b e i n g . F o r h u m a n beings 'are d i s c o n t i n u o u s b e i n g s , i n d i v i d u a l s w h o p e r i s h i n i s o l a t i o n i n the m i d s t o f a n i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e a d v e n t u r e , b u t [ w h o ] y e a r n f o r o u r lost c o n t i n u i t y ' . D e a t h offers the p o s s i b i l i t y o f r e g a i n i n g t h a t c o n t i n u i t y , w h i c h is w h y w e h a v e a p r o f o u n d , n o s t a l g i c desire f o r this ' p r i m a l c o n t i n u i t y l i n k i n g us w i t h e v e r y t h i n g t h a t i s ' - a c o n t i n u i t y at o n c e ' i n d e p e n d e n t o f d e a t h and

. . . e v e n p r o v e d b y d e a t h ' . I n e r o t i c i s m there is e v e n ' a c h a l l e n g e

t o d e a t h t h r o u g h i n d i f f e r e n c e t o d e a t h ' . L i f e is o n l y a d o o r t o existence: ' l i f e m a y be d o o m e d b u t the c o n t i n u i t y o f e x i s t e n c e is n o t ' . D e a t h is a l s o the y o u t h o f t h i n g s ; o n l y d e a t h g u a r a n t e e s the f r e s h u p s u r g i n g w i t h o u t w h i c h l i f e w o u l d be b l i n d ( E r o t i s m , p p . 15, 2 1 , 2 3 — 4 , 59). L o v e promises 'a total b l e n d i n g of t w o beings, a c o n t i n u i t y between two

d i s c o n t i n u o u s c r e a t u r e s ' (p. 20); 'yet this c o n t i n u i t y is c h i e f l y t o

be felt i n the a n g u i s h o f d e s i r e , w h e n it is s t i l l i n a c c e s s i b l e , s t i l l a n i m p o t e n t , q u i v e r i n g y e a r n i n g ' (p. 19). So i n the s e x u a l e m b r a c e w e aspire to m y s t i c a l d i s s o l u t i o n : the totality of what is (the universe) swallows me . . . nothing remains, except this or that, w h i c h a r e l e s s m e a n i n g f u l t h a n n o t h i n g . In a sense it is unbearable and I seem to be dying. It is at this cost, no doubt, that I a m no longer myself, but an infinity i n w h i c h I a m lost. ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II. 115 —16; my emphasis) I a m embracing the totality without w h i c h I was only o u t s i d e : I reach orgasm. (II.118) 255

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M o s t s i g n i f i c a n t l y o f a l l , p e r h a p s , this t o t a l i t y i n w h i c h the self is lost is n o t the ethereal t r a n s c e n d e n t r e a l m o f W e s t e r n

metaphysics,

b u t p h y s i c a l d e c o m p o s i t i o n . I n d e e d , to r e a d B a t a i l l e o n the e r o t i c , a m b i v a l e n t urge to a n n i h i l a t i o n is t o realize h o w d i f f e r e n t it is to F r e u d ' s d e a t h d r i v e . I m p l a u s i b l e as it m a y seem, the F r e u d i a n d e a t h d r i v e resembles the i n v e r t e d c o u n t e r p a r t o f r e l i g i o u s

transcendence.

T h e F r e u d i a n instinct towards o b l i v i o n , towards a total annihilation o f b e i n g , w h e r e desire is at last d i s s o l v e d i n t o the zero t e n s i o n o f n o n - b e i n g , is the n e g a t i v e , i n v e r t e d f o r m o f the a b s o l u t e

transcendence

o f b e i n g a n d desire - the perfect peace b e f o r e a n d b e y o n d c o n s c i o u s n e s s that passes a l l u n d e r s t a n d i n g . P u r e n o n - b e i n g : z e r o t e n s i o n . In W e s t e r n m e t a p h y s i c s s u c h ' c l e a n ' a n n i h i l a t i o n has a l w a y s been a n aspect o f t r a n s c e n d e n c e . F o r B a t a i l l e , b y c o n t r a s t , the d e a t h w h i c h desire seeks is n o t this a n n i h i l a t i n g t r a n s c e n d e n t , b u t a n i m m o l a t i o n i n n a t u r a l process - ' a n d o f the p u t r e f a c t i o n that f o l l o w s i t ' (II. 119). O r m a y b e it's b o t h : B a t a i l l e recovers a m e d i e v a l o b s e s s i o n w i t h m u t a b i l i t y as p h y s i c a l d e c o m p o s i t i o n a n d crosses it w i t h the r o m a n t i c desire f o r a p u r e a n n i h i l a t i o n i n ecstasy. F o r h i m there r e a l l y is a l i n k b e t w e e n e r o t i c i s m a n d d e a t h v i a p u t r e f a c t i o n : w h i l e the s e x u a l o r g a n s i n o n e sense are at the o p p o s i t e p o l e t o the d i s i n t e g r a t i o n o f the flesh, 'the l o o k o f the e x p o s e d i n n e r m u c o s a e m a k e s m e t h i n k o f w o u n d s t h a t s u p p u r a t e , w h i c h m a n i f e s t the c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n the life o f the b o d y and

the d e c o m p o s i t i o n o f the c o r p s e ' (II. 130). B a t a i l l e also recovers

a medieval/early m o d e r n v i e w o f m a n as c o n s t i t u t e d essentially b y d i v i s i o n , d r i v e n f o r w a r d b y the energy w h i c h c o m e s f r o m d i v i s i o n and

incompletion. It is here that this i n c r e a s i n g l y i n f l u e n t i a l w r i t e r m a n i f e s t s

that

f u n d a m e n t a l c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n , o n the o n e h a n d , the erotics o f m u t a b i l i t y a n d d e a t h a n d , o n the o t h e r , the c o m m i t m e n t to s o c i a l p r a x i s . W h a t I have n o t m e n t i o n e d so f a r is that B a t a i l l e , e s p e c i a l l y i n T h e A c c u r s e d S h a r e , a s p i r e d to d e v e l o p a n e w p o l i t i c a l e c o n o m y f r o m his t h e o r y o f life as n o n - p r o d u c t i v e e x p e n d i t u r e . T h a t b o o k r u n s to three v o l u m e s , yet n o w h e r e i n it does there emerge a p l a u s i b l e a c c o u n t o f w h a t society m i g h t be l i k e i f r e o r g a n i z e d i n a c c o r d w i t h the t r u t h o f life as e x p e n d i t u r e . A n d h o w c o u l d there, i f B a t a i l l e is even h a l f c o r r e c t in t h i n k i n g t h a t ' d e a t h , the r u p t u r e o f the d i s c o n t i n u o u s i n d i v i d u a l i t i e s

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t o w h i c h w e cleave i n t e r r o r , stands there b e f o r e us m o r e r e a l t h a n l i f e i t s e l f ( E r o t i s m , p . 19)? A t the o p e n i n g o f C u l t u r a l M a t e r i a l i s m : T h e o r y a n d P r a c t i c e , S c o t t W i l s o n announces that a 'revitalized, left-wing M a r x i s t project' must engage w i t h the ideas o f B a t a i l l e - ' o n e o f the m o s t i m p o r t a n t a n d m o s t n e g l e c t e d t h i n k e r s o f the t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y ' (p. x i ) . I n t h a t W i l s o n is u n a b l e t o s u b s t a n t i a t e t h i s c l a i m , he r e p l i c a t e s B a t a i l l e ' s own

p r o b l e m , f a i l i n g t o a d d r e s s let a l o n e r e s o l v e the c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n

p r a x i s a n d ( a n n i h i l a t i n g ) desire w h i c h r e c u r s t h r o u g h B a t a i l l e ' s w r i t i n g and

is a p p a r e n t i n r e m a r k s l i k e the f o l l o w i n g :

Men

committed to political struggle w i l l never be able to yield to the truth

of eroticism. Erotic activity always takes place at the expense of the forces committed to their combat. ( A c c u r s e d S h a r e , II. 191) T h e p r o b l e m is at least r e c o g n i z e d i n a r e m a r k a b l e b o o k b y N i c k L a n d w h i c h r e a l l y does l i v e u p t o its t i t l e , T h e T h i r s t f o r A n n i h i l a t i o n . L a n d d e r i v e s f r o m B a t a i l l e the v i e w t h a t a l l p o l i t i c a l o p p o s i t i o n t o f a s c i s m is o n l y ever its t i m i d c o u n t e r - i m a g e : T h e thought that there might be a political response to fascism makes me laugh. Shall we set out our little fascism against their big one? Organize ourselves, become disciplined, maybe we c o u l d make ourselves some smart uniforms and stomp about i n the street? Politics is the last great sentimental indulgence of m a n k i n d , and it has never achieved anything except a deeper idiocy, more w o r k , more repression . . . (p. 197) In a sense L a n d is r i g h t , at least t o t h i s e x t e n t : the p a r a d o x i c a l n a t u r e o f a r a d i c a l , l i b e r a t i n g p r a x i s is t h a t it q u i t e p r o b a b l y r e q u i r e s i n the a c h i e v e m e n t o f its a i m s as m u c h i f n o t m o r e r e p r e s s i o n t h a n does the m a i n t e n a n c e o f the repressive s o c i e t y i t seeks t o c h a n g e . N o r e a l i s t i c assessment o f the cost a n d d i f f i c u l t y o f l a r g e - s c a l e s o c i a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n c a n a v o i d t h i s f a c t . It is just o n e aspect o f the t r a g e d y i n h e r e n t i n r e v o l u t i o n a r y e n d e a v o u r . A n y aesthetic, p o l i t i c a l o r e r o t i c p r o j e c t w h i c h p r i v i l e g e s e x p e n d i t u r e , a n d i n p a r t i c u l a r the u n d o i n g o r the s u b v e r s i o n o f r e p r e s s i o n a b o v e a l l else, is a n o n - s t a r t e r i n t e r m s o f radical social change.

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I8 In Search of Potency: D. H . Lawrence

T o w a r d s the e n d o f D . H . L a w r e n c e ' s A a r o n ' s R o d there o c c u r s a fierce a t t a c k o n s o c i a l i s m . P u b l i s h e d i n 1922 a n d set just after the F i r s t W o r l d W a r , this n o v e l is a b o u t the r e l a t i o n s h i p a n d the f o r t u n e s o f t w o m e n , R a w d o n L i l l y a n d A a r o n S i s s o n . B o t h m e n are aspects o f L a w r e n c e h i m s e l f , a n d the n o v e l is a t h i n l y

fictionalized

(though not

u n c r i t i c a l ) e x p r e s s i o n o f L a w r e n c e ' s ideas at this t i m e . F o r L i l l y , f o r m e r l y a s o c i a l i s t , the i d e a a n d the i d e a l o f s o c i a l i s m h a v e ' g o n e d e a d - d e a d as c a r r i o n ' . B u t he is r e a c t i n g against m o r e t h a n s o c i a l i s m ; f o r L i l l y / L a w r e n c e i n 1922, a n o p t i m i s t i c , p r o g r e s s i v e h u m a n i s m has a l r e a d y gone t e r r i b l y w r o n g : the ideal of love, the ideal that it is better to give than to receive, the ideal of liberty, the ideal of the brotherhood of man, the ideal of the sanctity of human life, the ideal of what we call goodness, charity, benevolence, public spiritedness, the ideal of sacrifice for a cause, the ideal of unity and unanimity - all the lot - a l l the whole beehive of ideals - has all . . . gone putrid, stinking, (p. 326) T h e c o n v e r s a t i o n is v i o l e n t l y i n t e r r u p t e d b y a t e r r o r i s t b o m b . F i c t i o n a l l y this is a c r u c i a l m o m e n t , p r e c i p i t a t i n g A a r o n i n t o a n e w p h a s e o f his l i f e . F o r L a w r e n c e it w a s e q u a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t i n t e r m s o f E u r o p e a n h i s t o r y : this n a r r a t i v e m o m e n t c o r r e s p o n d s t o h i s belief at the t i m e t h a t it w a s the e r r o r s o f s o c i a l i s m w h i c h l e d t o this k i n d o f v i o l e n c e and, eventually, to fascism.

1

In A a r o n ' s R o d , as elsewhere i n L a w r e n c e ' s w r i t i n g , the m o d e r n c o n d i t i o n is r e g a r d e d as o n e o f d e c l i n e a n d d e c a d e n c e ;

degeneration

affects e v e r y t h i n g . T h e r e is a n acute sense o f b e i n g b e l e a g u e r e d b y

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s o c i a l a n d c u l t u r a l d e a t h , a n d n o w s o c i a l i s m is n o t the a n s w e r b u t p a r t o f the p r o b l e m . R e d e m p t i o n lies e l s e w h e r e - i n , f o r i n s t a n c e , a 2

radical i n d i v i d u a l i s m a n d p o l i t i c a l authoritarianism. L i l l y wants to get b a c k t o s o m e f o r m o f s l a v e r y , the i n f e r i o r r u l e d b y the s u p e r i o r m o s t e s p e c i a l l y the s u p e r i o r i n d i v i d u a l -

a n d he believes t h a t

m a s s e s , ' a f t e r s u f f i c i e n t e x t e r m i n a t i o n ' , w i l l be b r o u g h t t o

the

agree

(p. 327; cf. p p . 112, 128). L i l l y / L a w r e n c e w a n t s t o r e p l a c e a h u m a n i s t p h i l o s o p h y o f c o l l e c t i v e s o c i a l p r a x i s w i t h a n aesthetics o f energy i n w h i c h h u m a n desire is r e v i t a l i z e d a n d r e s c u e d f r o m a s o c i a l d e c a d e n c e e p i t o m i z e d i n that 'death choice' or 'death courage' characteristic

of

m o d e r n m a n (p. 1 4 6 ) . B e r t r a n d R u s s e l l , w h o f o r a w h i l e h a d a n intense f r i e n d s h i p w i t h L a w r e n c e , l a t e r w r o t e , 'I c a m e t o feel h i m a p o s i t i v e f o r c e f o r e v i l , ' a n d s a w h i m as s o m e o n e w h o h a d d e v e l o p e d 'the w h o l e p h i l o s o p h y o f f a s c i s m b e f o r e the p o l i t i c i a n s h a d t h o u g h t o f i t ' . O f L a w r e n c e ' s n o t i o n of blood-consciousness, Russell said 'it led straight t o A u s c h w i t z ' . R u s s e l l m a y h a v e been e x a g g e r a t i n g i n revenge

for

L a w r e n c e ' s o w n e a r l i e r c r i t i c i s m o f h i m . D e l i v e r e d i n a p r i v a t e letter, it so d e v a s t a t e d R u s s e l l t h a t he c o n t e m p l a t e d s u i c i d e . E v e n s o , R u s s e l l had

a point (Nehls, 1.282-5; M o n k , pp. 400-430). Lawrence, like

other modernists, was attracted

by p o t e n c y

i n p r o p o r t i o n to his

c o n v i c t i o n t h a t the energies o f the m o d e r n w o r l d w e r e f a i l i n g .

Returning to the

cosmos

In A p o c a l y p s e (1931) L a w r e n c e , s o m e w h a t l i k e N i e t z s c h e b e f o r e h i m , imagines a process of social death beginning almost w i t h W e s t e r n c u l t u r e itself, b u t i m m e a s u r a b l y w o r s e n e d b y C h r i s t i a n i t y , w h i c h , e s p e c i a l l y i n the R e f o r m a t i o n , t u r n e d a w a y f r o m the c o s m o s p r o p e r , substituting a v i s i o n of ' n o n - v i t a l . . . forces a n d mechanistic order'. T h u s 'the l o n g s l o w d e a t h o f the h u m a n b e i n g set i n ' . L a w r e n c e continues: No

doubt this death was necessary. It is the long, slow, death of society

w h i c h parallels the quick death of Jesus and the other dying G o d s . It is death none the less, and w i l l end i n the annihilation of the h u m a n race . . . unless there is a change, a resurrection, and a return to the cosmos, (p. 31)

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T h e t r i u m p h o f the i n t e l l e c t a n d m i n d o v e r the b o d y a n d s e n s u a l i t y is a n o t h e r aspect o f the s a m e c a t a s t r o p h i c h i s t o r y . L a w r e n c e r e p l a y s and

recasts

this

story

of

the

historical

repression

of

'blood-

consciousness' by intellect. T h e m o s t n o t o r i o u s o f a l l a d v o c a t e s o f the aesthetics o f energy w a s the I t a l i a n F u t u r i s t , a n d fascist, F i l i p p o M a r i n e t t i ( 1 8 7 6 - 1 9 4 4 ) . U n d e r the i n f l u e n c e o f diverse c o n t e m p o r a r y p h i l o s o p h i e s , b u t e s p e c i a l l y t h a t o f N i e t z s c h e , M a r i n e t t i p r o d u c e d his f a m o u s F u t u r i s t

Manifesto

(1909), i n w h i c h he u r g e d the y o u n g t o ' s i n g the l o v e o f d a n g e r , the h a b i t o f energy a n d b o l d n e s s ' ( S e l e c t e d W r i t i n g s , p . 41). A r t , f o r M a r i n e t t i , ' c a n be n o t h i n g b u t v i o l e n c e , c r u e l t y , a n d i n j u s t i c e ' . H e i d e a l i z e d v i o l e n c e a n d w a r , a n d i n 1914 he d e s c r i b e d the F i r s t W o r l d War

as ' t h e m o s t b e a u t i f u l f u t u r i s t p o e m w h i c h h a s s o f a r b e e n s e e n '

(p. 4 3 ; R . G r i f f i n , p . 2 6 ; e m p h a s i s o r i g i n a l ) . M a r i n e t t i a n d the F u t u r i s t s also i d e a l i z e d m u t a b i l i t y . R e p u d i a t i n g the entire p r e v i o u s a r t i s t i c t r a d i t i o n w h i c h l a m e n t e d t r a n s i e n c e , the e p h e m e r a l a n d l o s s , they now

celebrate these t h i n g s ; f a r f r o m b e i n g d e b i l i t a t i n g , ceaseless

c h a n g e is r e g a r d e d as a d y n a m i c m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f e v e r y t h i n g g o o d , i n c l u d i n g p r o g r e s s a n d the e x c i t e m e n t o f the f u t u r e itself: ' T o the c o n c e p t i o n o f the i m p e r i s h a b l e , the i m m o r t a l , w e o p p o s e , i n a r t , t h a t o f b e c o m i n g , the p e r i s h a b l e , the t r a n s i t o r y a n d the e p h e m e r a l . ' T h e aim

is to t e a c h p e o p l e , t h r o u g h art, ' t o l o v e the b e a u t y o f a n e m o t i o n

or a sensation t o t h e d e g r e e t h a t i t i s u n i q u e a n d d e s t i n e d t o v a n i s h i r r e p a r a b l y ' . T h e o p p o s i t i o n s b e t w e e n the e t e r n a l a n d the t r a n s i e n t , the a b s o l u t e a n d the r e l a t i v e , so f u n d a m e n t a l t o W e s t e r n m e t a p h y s i c a l t r a d i t i o n s o f r e l i g i o n a n d p h i l o s o p h y , are n o w i n v e r t e d a n d r e c o n c e p t u a l i z e d : ' W e a l r e a d y l i v e i n the a b s o l u t e , because w e h a v e c r e a t e d e t e r n a l , o m n i p r e s e n t s p e e d ' ( M a r i n e t t i , S e l e c t e d W r i t i n g s , p p . 67, 4 1 ; his

emphasis). T h i s i d e a l i z a t i o n o f speed a n d the m a c h i n e w a s w h e r e L a w r e n c e

d i s a g r e e d w i t h the F u t u r i s t s . I n a letter w r i t t e n f r o m Italy o n 2 J u n e 1914 he a p p r o v e d o f the i c o n o c l a s m o f F u t u r i s m : ' T h i s is the r e v o l t against beastly s e n t i m e n t a n d s l a v i s h adherence to t r a d i t i o n a n d the d e a d m i n d . F o r that I l o v e i t . ' B u t he r e g a r d e d its v i s i o n f o r c h a n g e as h o p e l e s s l y scientific, i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d m e c h a n i s t i c :

260

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It's the most self-conscious, intentional, pseudo-scientific stuff on the face of the earth. M a r i n e t t i begins: 'Italy is like a great Dreadnought surrounded by torpedo boats.' T h a t is it exactly - a great mechanism. Italy has got to go through the most mechanical and dead stage of a l l . ( L e t t e r s , II.181-3) Lawrence's vision of potency was vitalistic, not mechanistic, and for t h a t r e a s o n m u c h m o r e v u l n e r a b l e t o t h o s e self-same degenerate f o r c e s i n m o d e r n c u l t u r e t o w h i c h it w a s o p p o s e d . A n d yet it is the v i t a l i s t i c r a t h e r t h a n the m e c h a n i s t i c v e r s i o n o f the aesthetics o f energy w h i c h has p r o v e d the m o r e e n d u r i n g .

3

In the v i t a l i s t i c v e r s i o n , w h a t is c e l e b r a t e d is n o t energy p e r se; i n f a c t the u n r e s t r i c t e d energy o f l i f e ' s l o w e r f o r m s is itself u s u a l l y r e g a r d e d as degenerate a n d p o t e n t i a l l y c o r r u p t i n g , a n d i n u r g e n t n e e d o f b e i n g c o n t r o l l e d b y t h e i r s u p e r i o r a n d h i g h e r f o r m s . N o w h e r e is t h i s m o r e necessary t h a n w i t h the i n f e r i o r races, i n r e l a t i o n t o w h o m w e a l s o e n c o u n t e r a g l a r i n g p a r a d o x , n a m e l y t h a t f e r t i l i t y is a sure s i g n o f d e g e n e r a c y : as L i l l y p u t s it i n A a r o n ' s R o d , 'I c a n ' t d o w i t h f o l k s w h o t e e m b y the b i l l i o n , l i k e the C h i n e s e a n d J a p s a n d O r i e n t a l s a l t o g e t h e r . O n l y v e r m i n t e e m b y the b i l l i o n . H i g h e r types b r e e d s l o w e r ' (p. 119). T h e h i g h e s t t y p e o f a l l is the e x c e p t i o n a l i n d i v i d u a l ; o n l y ' h e ' c a n s t a n d a g a i n s t a l l the f o r c e s o f d i s i n t e g r a t i o n , d e g e n e r a t i o n , m e d i o c r i t y a n d d e c l i n e t h a t t y p i f y m o d e r n i t y . A n d he m u s t e v e n

fight

t h e m i n h i m s e l f , g u a r d i n g h i s o w n v i t a l desires a g a i n s t the f o r c e s w h i c h w o u l d sap a n d p e r v e r t t h e m . W o m e n are e s p e c i a l l y p e r n i c i o u s i n this respect, s a p p i n g m e n o f their w i l l - p o w e r , i n d i v i d u a l i t y a n d independence. W o m e n also destroy the b o n d s b e t w e e n m e n . T h e i r a i m is t o d o m i n a t e m e n , b u t , h a v i n g d o n e t h a t , they are r a r e l y satisfied. W h i c h is w h y A a r o n a n d L i l l y e x p e r i e n c e l i f e - a n d - d e a t h struggles w i t h w o m e n : W h a t was there i n the female w i l l so diabolical, he asked himself, that it could press like a flat sheet of i r o n against a m a n all the time? T h i s is A a r o n , s p e a k i n g o f h i s w i f e , w h o m , w i t h great e f f o r t ,

he

succeeds i n r e s i s t i n g t h r o u g h 'the a r r o g a n c e o f s e l f - u n y i e l d i n g m a l e ' . H i s s a l v a t i o n lies i n r e t r e a t i n g t o ' i s o l a t e s e l f - r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , a l o n e n e s s . . . the i n n e r m o s t i s o l a t i o n a n d singleness o f h i s o w n s o u l ' (pp. 191, 193,

197).

261

DEATH,

D E S I R E A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

It is i m p e r a t i v e t h a t the m a l e p r o t e c t f r o m w o m e n this c o r e i n n e r self - ' p e r f e c t e d singleness' (p. 156). O n e is m o s t v u l n e r a b l e i n sex; w h e n A a r o n has sex w i t h a w o m a n 'he felt his p a s s i o n d r a w n f r o m him

as i f a l o n g , l i v e nerve w e r e d r a w n o u t f r o m his b o d y , a l o n g ,

l i v e t h r e a d o f electric fire' (p. 317). In o t h e r w a y s t o o these c h a r a c t e r s find

t h a t the m o d e r n d e a t h - w i s h is i n s i d e l o v e -

i n , for

instance,

the p r e v a i l i n g n o t i o n t h a t the i n d i v i d u a l s h o u l d seek i n it

either

s e l f - a b a n d o n o r the o p p o r t u n i t y f o r c o m p l e t e self-sacrifice. S u c h a s p i r a t i o n s are n o t h i n g less t h a n w i l f u l s u i c i d e . I d e a l l y , muses A a r o n , l o v e s h o u l d be a p r o c e s s w o r k i n g t o w a r d s c o m p l e t i o n : n o t , as n o w , some horror of intensification and extremity wherein the soul and body ultimately perish. T h e completion of the process of love is the arrival at a state of simple, pure-self-possession, for man and w o m a n . O n l y that. W h i c h isn't exciting enough for us sensationalists. W e prefer abysses and m a u d l i n self-abandon and self-sacrifice, the degeneration into a sort of slime and merge, (pp. 200-201) T h i s i d e a l o f i n d e p e n d e n c e is expressed i n n a t u r a l i m a g e r y - a f a n t a s y of e f f o r t l e s s

self-sufficiency

here r e a l i z e d t h r o u g h a n a l l u s i o n t o the

t w o eagles i n W a l t W h i t m a n ' s p o e m ' D a l l i a n c e o f E a g l e s ' : ' a l l the t i m e e a c h l i f t e d o n its o w n w i n g s ' (p. 202). T h e r e a l i t y , o f c o u r s e , is t h a t this i n d e p e n d e n c e i n v o l v e s a n u n s u s t a i n a b l e degree o f e f f o r t - L i l l y ' s ' s o u l w a s against the w h o l e w o r l d ' , w h i l e A a r o n r e m a i n s d e t e r m i n e d t o give i n ' t o n o w o m a n , a n d t o n o s o c i a l i d e a l , a n d t o n o s o c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n ' (p. 336). W h i c h is w h y the obsessive c e n t r a l f o c u s i n L a w r e n c e is n o t the i s o l a t e d , p o w e r f u l , effortlessly self-sufficient i n d i v i d u a l , b u t a l l o f the forces t h a t t h r e a t e n him

w i t h d i s s o l u t i o n a n d d i s i n t e g r a t i o n . It is also w h y these f o r c e s -

i n a r e a l sense i m a g i n a r y - are c o u n t e r e d w i t h i n c r e a s i n g l y e x t r e m e fantasies o f i n d i v i d u a l o m n i p o t e n c e , a l o n g w i t h e q u a l l y e x t r e m e f a n tasy ' s o l u t i o n s ' to w h a t t h r e a t e n the i n d i v i d u a l i n t e g r i t y o f the ' i n n e r m o s t , i n t e g r a l , u n i q u e s e l f (p. 343). In the final e n c o u n t e r b e t w e e n the t w o m e n , L i l l y tells A a r o n t h a t there are o n l y t w o great d y n a m i c urges i n l i f e : l o v e a n d p o w e r . A n d since l o v e has also b e c o m e degenerate, t h a t leaves p o w e r — t h a t 'vast d a r k source o f life a n d strength i n us n o w . . . P o w e r - the p o w e r u r g e . ' T h i s is n o t c o n s c i o u s p o w e r b u t r a t h e r s o m e p r i m a l f o r c e w h i c h 262

IN S E A R C H OF P O T E N C Y :

D.

H.

LAWRENCE

urges f r o m w i t h i n , darkly, for the displacing of the o l d leaves, the inception of the new. It is p o w e r f u l and self-central, not seeking its centre outside, i n some G o d or some beloved, but acting indomitably f r o m w i t h i n itself. (PP- 343-6) ' O f c o u r s e , ' a d d s L i l l y , 'there m u s t be o n e w h o urges, a n d o n e w h o is i m p e l l e d . . .' T h i s m e a n s t h a t w o m e n m u s t s u b m i t to m e n , a n d i n f e r i o r m e n m u s t s u b m i t t o greater

men -

'the deep

fathomless

s u b m i s s i o n t o the h e r o i c s o u l i n a greater m a n ' (p. 347). In t h a t ' o f c o u r s e ' is o n e o f the m o r e g l a r i n g n o n s e q u i t u r s o f t h i s creed, itself s y m p t o m a t i c of other o b v i o u s inconsistencies. L i l l y wants t o i n v o k e a n a s o c i a l , a n a r c h i c , u n d i s c r i m i n a t i n g , p r i m a l energy 'dark, living, fructifying power' -

-

b u t i n a f o r m w h i c h is a l r e a d y

s o c i a l i z e d a n d o r d e r e d , n o t to say p o l i c e d , i n a c c o r d a n c e w i t h the m o s t f a m i l i a r h i e r a r c h i e s o f class a n d g e n d e r . S i m i l a r l y , L a w r e n c e ' s ' r e t u r n ' t o the b o d y a n d its s e x u a l e x p r e s s i o n w a s n o less r i g o r o u s l y policed by ethical and intellectual considerations. H i s advocacy of a v i t a l , n a t u r a l sensuality to c o m b a t c o n t e m p o r a r y decadence derived f r o m a deeply social preoccupation w i t h cultural and psychic health w h i c h w a s at t i m e s p a s s i o n a t e l y p u r i t a n i c a l . It w a s t h i s w h i c h c o n t r i b u t e d t o h i s l a t e r p o p u l a r i t y a n d i n f l u e n c e , e s p e c i a l l y w i t h i n the l i t e r a r y / c u l t u r a l c r i t i c a l m o v e m e n t i n s p i r e d b y F . R . L e a v i s . A t the u n s u c c e s s f u l p r o s e c u t i o n o f L a d y C h a t t e r l e y ' s L o v e r i n I960 L a w r e n c e w a s d e f e n d e d a g a i n s t the c h a r g e o f o b s c e n i t y w i t h the c l a i m t h a t he w a s a d e e p l y moral writer. L a w r e n c e ' s f a n t a s y o f a n a b s o l u t e l y p o w e r f u l f o r c e i m a g i n e d as p r i m a l (the ' p o w e r u r g e ' ) , yet s o c i a l t h r o u g h a n d t h r o u g h , is the

final

s o l u t i o n n o t just to the m u t a b i l i t y a n d d e g e n e r a c y o f s o c i a l d e a t h , b u t t o the f a i l u r e o f the entire p r o j e c t o f a l i f e - a f f i r m i n g i n d i v i d u a l i s m w h i c h w a s s u p p o s e d t o t r a n s c e n d s o c i a l d e a t h . A s w e s h a l l see, the r e s o l v e t o retreat i n t o 'the c e n t r a l self, the i s o l a t e , a b s o l u t e

self

p . 309) a l w a y s f a i l s because this p l a c e o f i n n e r

self-

(Kangaroo,

s u f f i c i e n c y is a l r e a d y the p l a c e o f i n t o l e r a b l e s t r a i n a n d f r u s t r a t i o n a n d the deeper desire f o r n o n - b e i n g .

263

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DESIRE

A N D L O S S IN W E S T E R N

P o r n o g r a p h y and

CULTURE

obscenity

L a w r e n c e is r e m e m b e r e d a b o v e a l l f o r a m e t a p h y s i c that s o u g h t t o d i s e n t a n g l e sex f r o m d e a t h a n d get it b a c k o n the side o f l i f e . F r e u d h a d d e c l a r e d t h a t 'the e x c r e m e n t a l is a l l t o o i n t i m a t e l y b o u n d u p w i t h the s e x u a l ; the p o s i t i o n o f the genitals - i n t e r u r i n a s e t f a e c e s - r e m a i n s the d e c i s i v e a n d u n c h a n g e a b l e f a c t o r ' . T h i s is o n e r e a s o n (of m a n y ) why

he c o n c l u d e d t h a t it is i m p o s s i b l e to r e c o n c i l e the s e x u a l i n s t i n c t s

w i t h the needs o f c i v i l i z a t i o n ( ' O n the U n i v e r s a l T e n d e n c y ' , p . 2.59). In

' P o r n o g r a p h y a n d O b s c e n i t y ' L a w r e n c e insists o n the

absolute

s e p a r a t i o n o f the e x c r e m e n t a l a n d the s e x u a l , a n d also describes the f o r m e r i n t e r m s w h i c h resemble F r e u d ' s d e a t h d r i v e : The sex functions and the excrementory functions in the human body w o r k so close together, yet they are, so to speak, utterly different i n direction. Sex is a creative flow, the excrementory flow is towards dissolution, de-creation, if we may use such a w o r d . In the really healthy human being the distinction between the two is instant, our profoundest instincts are perhaps our instincts of opposition between the two flows. But in the degraded human being the deep instincts have gone dead, and the two flows become identical. T h i s is the secret of really vulgar and of pornographical people: the sex flow and the excrement flow is the same to them. It happens when the psyche deteriorates, and the profound controlling instincts collapse. L a w r e n c e goes o n to a t t r i b u t e this p o r n o g r a p h i c p e r s o n a l i t y s t r u c t u r e t o c o m m o n a n d v u l g a r p e o p l e , a n d sees it as never m o r e p r e v a l e n t t h a n n o w ; it is the s i g n o f the 'diseased c o n d i t i o n o f the b o d y p o l i t i c ' (pp.

3 1 3 - 1 4 ) . F o r h i m 'there are t w o great categories o f m e a n i n g , f o r

ever separate. T h e r e is m o b - m e a n i n g , a n d there is i n d i v i d u a l m e a n i n g ' ; and

'the m o b is a l w a y s obscene, because it is a l w a y s s e c o n d - h a n d '

(pp.

308-9).

L a w r e n c e also associates m a s t u r b a t i o n w i t h loss a n d d e a t h , a n d regards it as the m o s t d a n g e r o u s s e x u a l vice f o r society: ' i n m a s t u r b a t i o n there is n o t h i n g b u t loss . . . T h e r e is m e r e l y the s p e n d i n g a w a y o f a c e r t a i n f o r c e , a n d n o r e t u r n . T h e b o d y r e m a i n s , i n a sense, a c o r p s e , after the act o f self-abuse' (p. 317). M a s t u r b a t i o n e m p t i e s 'the 264

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r e a l v i t a l i t y a n d the r e a l b e i n g o f m e n ' , l e a v i n g t h e m d e a d - ' a n u l l u s , a n o t h i n g n e s s ' ; t o d a y 'the s e x - f l o w is d y i n g o u t o f the y o u n g , the r e a l energy is d y i n g a w a y ' (p. 322). W e n e e d t o get b a c k t o a v i s i o n o f sex as ' f r e s h a n d w h o l e s o m e ' , v i t a l a n d c l e a n (pp. 311,

314).

O n the o n e s i d e , t h e n , is a w h o l e r a n g e o f i l l s v a r i o u s l y c o n t r i b u t i n g t o a c o n t e m p o r a r y state o f s o c i a l d e a t h e p i t o m i z e d i n the e x c r e m e n t a l v i s i o n a n d m a s t u r b a t i o n ; o n the o t h e r is D . H . L a w r e n c e s t r u g g l i n g t o r e i n t e r p r e t a n d r e d i r e c t W e s t e r n c u l t u r e i n the d i r e c t i o n o f a w h o l e s o m e s e x u a l i t y r e s o l u t e l y o n the side o f l i f e . A n d yet i n h i s

fiction

L a w r e n c e s h o w s h i m s e l f t o be m o r e t h a n f a s c i n a t e d b y the v e r y f o r c e s o f d e g e n e r a t i o n he r a i l s a g a i n s t - n o t least the w a y i n w h i c h they c o n j o i n sex a n d d e a t h . V i r t u a l l y every s i g n i f i c a n t c h a r a c t e r i n W o m e n

i n L o v e (1921) is

struggling for an intensity of being i n p r o x i m i t y to death. H e r m i o n e is ' b u r d e n e d t o d e a t h w i t h c o n s c i o u s n e s s ' ,

w h i l e f o r B i r k i n she i s

d e a t h . E v e n t o be o v e r c o m e b y the b e a u t y o f a n o t h e r is t o w a n t t o die (pp. 4 5 , 3 4 4 - 5 , 2 0 3 ) . W i t h the m o r e s y m p a t h e t i c c h a r a c t e r s it is n o t s i m p l y t h a t they are s t r u g g l i n g t o escape d e a t h ; r a t h e r , the e x i s t e n t i a l a u t h e n t i c i t y w h i c h they seek entails the r i s k , e v e n the s e d u c t i o n s , o f d e a t h . A t o n e l e v e l this is the p r o b l e m o f b e i n g b e l e a g u e r e d b y v a r i o u s k i n d s o f s o c i a l d e a t h - e v e r y t h i n g w e ' v e seen L a w r e n c e castigate a b o u t the m o d e r n w o r l d , 'the l i f e t h a t b e l o n g s t o d e a t h - o u r k i n d o f l i f e ' . B u t it is c l e a r l y m u c h m o r e ; d e a t h p r o m i s e s f u l f i l m e n t : better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions. T o die is to move o n w i t h the invisible. T o die is also a joy, a joy of submitting to that w h i c h is greater than the k n o w n ; namely, the pure u n k n o w n . T h i s is U r s u l a , w h o f o r a w h i l e seems l o s t i n a d e a t h - w i s h : 'the deepest desire . . . t o g o o n i n t o the u n k n o w n o f d e a t h . . . N o w w a s the t i m e t o r e l i n q u i s h , n o t t o resist a n y m o r e . ' D e a t h is ' a great c o n s u m m a t i o n . . . a d e v e l o p m e n t f r o m l i f e ' (pp. 2 0 8 , 214—16). T h e aggressive o b v e r s e o f this d e a t h w a r d w i s h is t o w i s h the d e a t h o f the e n t i r e r a c e . B i r k i n ' s sense o f the m a s s o f m a n k i n d as r e p u l s i v e a m o u n t s a l m o s t t o a n i l l n e s s , so t h a t just t o a r r i v e i n L o n d o n 'is r e a l d e a t h ' . F o r h i m , h u m a n i t y itself is d e a d — ' a d e a d letter'. H e tells U r s u l a t h a t he a b h o r s h u m a n i t y because it is a h u g e l i e , a ' f o u l . . . u n i v e r s a l d e f i l e m e n t ' w h i c h s h o u l d be c o m p l e t e l y d e s t r o y e d . A w o r l d 265

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c o m p l e t e l y free o f p e o p l e is ' a b e a u t i f u l c l e a n t h o u g h t ' . It offers the same a t t r a c t i o n s as d e a t h itself, i n t h a t , l i k e 'the p u r e i n h u m a n otherness o f d e a t h ' , it w o u l d be ' b e y o n d o u r s u l l y i n g ' (pp. 6 5 , 6 7 , 1 2 0 , 141-2, 216-17). T h e r e is a t h i r d w a y o f e s c a p i n g s o c i a l d e a t h , less e x t r e m e t h a n either the d e a t h - w i s h o r the desire f o r the a n n i h i l a t i o n o f the race. It i n v o l v e s w i t h d r a w i n g i n t o the a u t h e n t i c b e i n g o f

blood-consciousness

(pp. 4 7 - 8 , 87). A n d yet this t o o is p r o f o u n d l y d e p e n d e n t u p o n d e a t h . T h e false i n t e g r i t y o f the s o c i a l ego has to be d e s t r o y e d by the b l o o d , b u t the latter also destroys i n t e g r i t y a n d i d e n t i t y p e r se.

Characters

seem c a u g h t b e t w e e n the h o r r o r o f s o c i a l d e a t h a n d the

attraction/

h o r r o r o f the fantasy o f d e a t h itself. T h e y are endlessly t h r e a t e n e d i n b o d y a n d s o u l w i t h 'sheer d i s s o l u t i o n . . . the h o r r i b l e sickness

of

d i s s o l u t i o n ' (p. 103; cf. p p . 9 9 , 215, 319). A n d yet the d i s s o l u t i o n o f ' l a p s i n g o u t ' is a p r e c o n d i t i o n f o r b e i n g rescued f r o m s o c i a l d e a t h b a c k to l i f e . B u t , yet a g a i n , this c o m i n g b a c k to life is a k i n d

of

surrender of being: N o w he had let go, imperceptibly he was melting into oneness with the whole. It was like pure, perfect sleep, his first great sleep of life . . . here was sleep, and peace, and perfect lapsing out. (p. 199) C h a r a c t e r s are e n c o u r a g e d

(by B i r k i n ) to seek o u t 'the great d a r k

k n o w l e d g e ' o f the b l o o d , w h e r e 'the m i n d a n d the k n o w n w o r l d are d r o w n e d i n d a r k n e s s ' a n d the self dies so as to be r e b o r n : 'It is d e a t h to o n e ' s s e l f - b u t it is the c o m i n g i n t o b e i n g o f a n o t h e r . ' P u r e s e n s u a l i t y depends u p o n l a p s i n g i n t o u n k n o w i n g n e s s , g i v i n g u p v o l i t i o n : ' Y o u ' v e got to l e a r n n o t - t o - b e , b e f o r e y o u c a n c o m e i n t o b e i n g ' (pp. 4 6 — 8 ; cf. P.

193). B u t B i r k i n is m o r e a m b i v a l e n t t o w a r d s this p h i l o s o p h y o f l e t t i n g

go t h a n this suggests. L a t e r he has f e a r f u l i n t i m a t i o n s o f w h a t this i n v o l v e s f o r w o r l d h i s t o r y . H e recalls seeing a n A f r i c a n ' f e t i s h ' , a s m a l l statuette a b o u t t w o f o o t h i g h , a figure o f a w o m a n w h o e m b o d i e s sheer sensuality u n t a i n t e d by s p i r i t u a l i t y . She represents a race w h i c h had 'died, mystically' -

t h a t is, a race w h e r e sensuality h a d

been

separated f r o m t h o u g h t a n d b e c o m e free to f o l l o w its o w n ' m y s t i c knowledge in disintegration and dissolution . . . and corruption'. For the A f r i c a n races the w a y o f c o m p l e t e sensuality is the w a y o f d e a t h 266

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and

D.

H.

LAWRENCE

dissolution, i n v o l v i n g a k n o w l e d g e far beyond 'phallic k n o w -

l e d g e ' . N o w 'the w h i t e r a c e s ' are a b o u t t o repeat the p r o c e s s ,

but

d i f f e r e n t l y ; w h e r e a s the ' W e s t A f r i c a n s , c o n t r o l l e d b y the b u r n i n g d e a t h - a b s t r a c t i o n o f the S a h a r a , h a d been f u l f i l l e d i n s u n - d e s t r u c t i o n , the p u t r e s c e n t m y s t e r y o f s u n - r a y s ' , the w h i t e races, w i t h the ' A r c t i c n o r t h b e h i n d t h e m , the vast a b s t r a c t i o n o f ice a n d s n o w , w o u l d f u l f i l a mystery of ice-destructive k n o w l e d g e , snow-abstract a n n i h i l a t i o n ' . G e r a l d e p i t o m i z e s these races w h o are d e s t i n e d t o k n o w ' d e a t h b y p e r f e c t c o l d ' (pp. 2 8 5 - 7 ) . At

such

moments

Birkin

reacts v i o l e n t l y a g a i n s t

dissolution.

R e d e m p t i o n is n o w felt t o be i n yet a n o t h e r d i r e c t i o n , e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t a g a i n : e n t r y i n t o ' p u r e single b e i n g , the i n d i v i d u a l s o u l t a k i n g p r e c e d e n c e ' (p. 287). E a r l i e r , B i r k i n has e x p e r i e n c e d this s a m e obsessive n e e d t o b e c o m e ' a n i s o l a t e d m e , t h a t does n o t meet a n d m i n g l e ' , w h o is free f r o m the ' h o r r i b l e m e r g i n g , m i n g l i n g s e l f - a b n e g a t i o n o f l o v e (pp.

162, 225) — o n l y t o t h e n veer b a c k t o w a r d s the a t t r a c t i o n

of

' d e g e n e r a t i o n - m y s t i c , u n i v e r s a l d e g e n e r a t i o n ' (p. 229). C h a r a c t e r s react t o e a c h o t h e r w i t h a s i m i l a r a m b i v a l e n c e , w h i c h s o m e t i m e s verges o n the p a r a n o i d o r the s c h i z o i d , a n d w h i c h at its m o s t e x t r e m e e r u p t s as a m u r d e r o u s i m p u l s e ; f o r H e r m i o n e , the desire t o k i l l B i r k i n is d e s c r i b e d as s e x u a l — ' u n u t t e r a b l e

consummation,

u n u t t e r a b l e s a t i s f a c t i o n ' (p. 117). A t the e n d o f the n o v e l G u d r u n a n d G e r a l d l i t e r a l l y fight it o u t t o the d e a t h ; he a l m o s t k i l l s h e r b e f o r e g o i n g o u t i n t o the s n o w t o die h i m s e l f . D u r i n g the l i f e - a n d - d e a t h s t r u g g l e , G u d r u n is a p p a r e n t l y r e v e a l e d as a n ' A f r i c a n ' at h e a r t ; i n s i d e 4

h e r a p p a r e n t s o p h i s t i c a t i o n is o n l y d a r k n e s s , 'the o b s c e n e r e l i g i o u s m y s t e r y o f u l t i m a t e r e d u c t i o n , the m y s t i c f r i c t i o n a l a c t i v i t i e s o f d i a b o l i c r e d u c i n g d o w n , d i s i n t e g r a t i n g the v i t a l o r g a n i c b o d y o f l i f e ' . It is as i f she e m b o d i e s a d e a t h d r i v e s o m e h o w h a r n e s s e d b y a

fierce

w i l f u l n e s s a n d d i r e c t e d o u t w a r d s as s a d i s m , a n d m o s t i n t e n s e l y at G e r a l d , w h o s e o w n w i l l t o l i v e d i s s o l v e s as hers t r i u m p h s (p. 508). B u t t h i s c a n h a p p e n o n l y b e c a u s e G e r a l d has c a r r i e d d e a t h w i t h i n h i m f r o m the b e g i n n i n g . H e a d v a n c e s 'the p l a u s i b l e ethics o f p r o d u c t i v i t y ' (p. 62) because he is d e a d i n s i d e . E v e n w o r s e , i n i n d u s t r y he is the agent o f d e a t h , s u b s t i t u t i n g the m e c h a n i c a l p r i n c i p l e f o r the o r g a n i c (pp. 2 5 7 — 6 0 ) . In l o v e t o o : w h e n he first has i n t e r c o u r s e w i t h G u d r u n

267

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Into her he poured all his pent-up darkness and corrosive death . . . A n d she, subject, received h i m as a vessel filled w i t h his bitter potion of death . . . T h e terrible frictional violence of death filled her, and she received it in an ecstasy of subjection, i n throes of acute, violent sensation, (p. 388) L a w r e n c e w a n t s t o escape s o c i a l d i s s o l u t i o n by r e t u r n i n g to the pulse of authentic being - ' T o have one's pulse beating direct f r o m the m y s t e r y , this w a s p e r f e c t i o n , u n u t t e r a b l e s a t i s f a c t i o n . H u m a n o r u n h u m a n m a t t e r e d n o t h i n g ' (p. 539). B u t this deeper r e a l i t y is itself one o f d i s s o l u t i o n , as B i r k i n r e m a r k s e a r l i e r t o U r s u l a : the r e a l i t y o f our

b e i n g is ' t h a t d a r k r i v e r o f d i s s o l u t i o n . . . the b l a c k r i v e r o f

c o r r u p t i o n ' w h i c h 'ends i n u n i v e r s a l n o t h i n g ' . It is f r o m this ' f l o w e r i n g m y s t e r y o f the d e a t h - p r o c e s s ' t h a t life s p r i n g s . U r s u l a hears i n this m e t a p h y s i c o f r e d e m p t i o n o n l y the n e g a t i o n o f l i f e , a n d retorts a n g r i l y , 'You

o n l y w a n t us t o k n o w d e a t h ' (pp. 1 9 3 - 4 ) .

In T h e C r o w n (1915/1925) L a w r e n c e e l a b o r a t e s the i d e a . W e are, he says, a l l the t i m e ' b a l a n c e d b e t w e e n the f l u x o f life a n d the f l u x o f d e a t h ' ; because b o t h are w i t h i n us, ' o u r w i l l - t o - l i v e c o n t a i n s a g e r m o f s u i c i d e , a n d o u r s u r v i v a l - o f - t h e - f i t t e s t the g e r m o f

degeneracy'.

A l l o w e d t o r u n its c o u r s e , the f l u x o f r e d u c t i o n leads to ' p e r v e r s i t y , d e g r a d a t i o n a n d d e a t h ' . A n d yet d e a t h a n d c o r r u p t i o n are n o t o n l y necessary, b u t even d e s i r a b l e : The spirit of destruction is divine, when it breaks the ego and opens the soul to the wider heavens. In corruption there is divinity. Aphrodite is, on the one side, the great goddess of destruction in sex, Dionysus in the spirit. M o l o c h and some gods of Egypt are gods also of the knowledge of death . . . It is the activity of departure. A n d departure is the opposite equivalent of coming together; decay, corruption, destruction, breaking d o w n is the opposite equivalent of creation. In infinite going apart there is revealed again the pure absolute . . . C o r r u p t i o n w i l l at last break d o w n for us the deadened forms, and release us into the infinity, (pp. 2 8 7 - 8 , 292-3) It is a s t o n i s h i n g that L a w r e n c e c o u l d be c e l e b r a t e d as the p r o p h e t of sexual health and a vital i n d i v i d u a l i s m ; rather, W o m e n

i n Love,

his greatest n o v e l (in his o w n v i e w , a n d that o f m o s t c r i t i c s ) , testifies to the e x t r e m e crisis o f a n i n d i v i d u a l i s m q u e s t i n g f o r r e d e m p t i o n i n

268

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erotic intensities driven by every kind of death. The fundamental tension is not between a fear of and a desire for death, but between the desire for death as self-dissolving submission and an identification with death as the ultimate force of control and revenge - an absolute power that will annihilate and eradicate everything Lawrence hates, from social degeneracy to humanity itself. Hence the recurring oscillations between social aggression and metaphysical passivity, between the desire for self-dissolution and the hysterical retreat into the isolated absolute self which aspires to independence yet is obsessed with the forces which beleaguer and threaten it. Hence too the equivocations as to whether dissolution should be restricted to the false social ego or whether it should go further. If the former, it never goes far enough; if the latter, one starts to go the way of ' A f r i c a ' . Lawrence's notorious stridency of tone and his tendency to emphatic repetition are an expression less of prophetic conviction than of deep ambivalence and contradiction. A t one level what this means is that the mystery of being is only ever imagined from within the universe of a megalomaniac and paranoid individualism. This is why cultural difference, racial difference and even w o r l d history orbit in grotesquely distorted forms around the self-obsessed individual's pursuit of redemption; it is the ultimate stretched-hubris of humanism, the enveloping of everything other into the paltry neuroses of the solitary self. Individuals flail around, questing for difference in the name of authentic being, yet exist in various states of chronic insensibility and ignorance in relation to difference, be it the difference of other individuals or of entire cultures and continents. A t crucial points, always heavily invested with the narrative voice, self-obsessed characters perform acts of interpretative violence which reduce otherness to their o w n vicious egotistical

struggles

and the diverse crises of the entire individualistic metaphysic. N o t surprisingly then, the adoration of power that we find in Aaron's

Rod

is anticipated here: 'it's the last, perhaps highest, love-impulse: resign your w i l l to the higher being' (p. 156). A t the same time, however, this ambivalent and conflicted vision explores, with imagination, honesty and courage, the full extent to which the crises of individualism derive from its internalization - one could say introjection - of the enduring paradoxes of Western death. 269

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DESIRE

A N D LOSS

IN W E S T E R N

CULTURE

A n d this makes Lawrence a writer of greater not lesser significance. In Women

in Love he is drawn to pervert his o w n simplistic binary

between life and death, anality and true sex. Birkin apparently has anal sex with Ursula: He had taken her as he had never been taken himself. He had taken her at the roots of her darkness and shame - like a demon, laughing over the fountain of mystic corruption which was one of the sources of her being . . . As for her, when would she so much go beyond herself as to accept him at the quick of death? (p. 343) Ursula remains unsure; angrily she denounces Birkin as 'a foul, deathly thing, obscene . . . so perverse,

so death-eating'. A n d he inwardly

agrees, k n o w i n g 'his spirituality was concomitant of a process of depravity, a sort of pleasure in self-destruction' (pp. 3 4 6 - 7 ) . But then they have sex again, and experience 'the most intolerable accession into being' as a result of tapping 'the darkest, deepest, strangest life-force of the human body, at the back and base of the loins . . . deeper, further in mystery than the phallic source'. Later still they experience something similar, and once again it offers a radical release from shame into the truth of being (pp. 354, 464). A similar but rather more notorious episode occurs in Lady

Chatter-

ley's Lover, where again anal sex seems to be vitally redemptive, but at the risk of just those wholesome virtues the didactic Lawrence put on the side of life - not least the deep, defended self which sodomy apparently annihilates: 'reckless, shameless sensuality shook her to her foundations, stripped her to the very l a s t . . . it was not really love . . . It was sensuality sharp and searing as fire, burning the soul to tinder' (p. 258).

Homoeroticism A n d running through it all is the problem, or the promise, of the homoerotic. It is made to carry the burden of Women in Love's deepest tension or contradiction: it is both the agent of death, reduction and degeneration, and the source of the deepest possibility of redemption. The extent of Lawrence's ambivalence towards homosexuality is 270

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H.

L A W R E N C E

striking. H i s revulsion against the homosexuality of Bloomsbury/ Cambridge figures like Keynes was extreme; he associated it and them w i t h dissolution - 'the flux of reduction'. M e r e l y to see such people in their pyjamas threw h i m into a state of hysteria and deep crisis II.319—21; see also Delany, D . H. Lawrence's

(Letters,

Nightmare).

The influence of degeneration theory is apparent, especially i n what Lawrence wrote about homosexuality i n unpublished sections of The Crown.

H e describes the attraction of a man for a boy, or for 'a lower

type of m a n ' , as governed by the basic desire . . . to get back to a state which he has long surpassed. And the getting back, the reduction, is a sort of progress to infinite nullity, to the beginnings. He is given up to the flux of reduction, his mouth is upon the mouth of corruption. This is the reason of homosexuality, and of connection with animals . . . This is David turning to Jonathan, Achilles with Patroclus. This is always the higher, more developed type seeking to revert to the lower. (Reflections

on the Death of a Porcupine, p. 472)

This suggests Loerke i n Women

in Love,

'a Jew - or part Jewish'

(p. 481) and homosexual or bisexual (p. 462), a 'little obscene monster of the darkness' who lives 'like a rat i n the river of corruption . . . [a] gnawing little negation, gnawing at the roots of life' (p. 481). A n d yet it is Loerke w h o seemingly most fulfils the ideal of individual integrity — ' H e was single and, by abstraction f r o m the rest, absolute i n h i m s e l f (p. 509). Against all this is Birkin's final admission of his o w n need for 'eternal union w i t h a man . . . another k i n d of love', and his conviction that G e r a l d w o u l d not have died if he could have accepted the love that he, B i r k i n , had offered h i m (pp. 5 4 0 - 4 1 ) . M o s t remarkable of all is the suppressed prologue to Women

in Love,

w i t h its explicit

expression of Birkin's intense homoerotic desire: it was for men that he felt the hot, flushing, roused attraction which a man is supposed to feel for the other sex . . . The male physique had a fascination for him, and for the female physique he felt only a fondness . . . In the street it was the men who roused him by their flesh and their manly, vigorous movement. . .

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He loved his friend, the beauty of whose manly limbs made him tremble with pleasure. He wanted to caress him. And then in his soul would succeed a sort of despair, because this passion for a man had recurred in him. It was a deep misery to him. And it would seem as if he had always loved men, always and only loved men. And this was the greatest suffering to him. This was the one and only secret he kept to himself, this secret of his passionate and sudden, spasmodic affinity for men he saw. He kept this secret even from himself. He knew what he felt, but he always kept the knowledge at bay. (Phoenix 11, pp. 103-4, I07)

A t the end of Apocalypse,

written when he was dying, Lawrence again

finds reassurance in dissolution, but the tone becomes different as the most basic premiss of his punitive social philosophy and of his polemic against social death is relinquished. N o w the obsession with 'the central self, the isolate, absolute s e l f (Kangaroo,

p. 309) dissolves in

the perception and the acceptance of transience: there is nothing of me that is alone and absolute except my mind, and we shall find that the mind has no existence by itself, it is only the glitter of the sun on the surface of the waters. So that my individualism is really an illusion. I am part of the great whole, and I can never escape. (Apocalypse,

p. 126)

272

VIII DEATH

AND

THE

HOMOEROTIC

19 Wrecked by Desire: Thomas M a n n

Faust rejects as temptation the thought of being saved. (Thomas M a n n ,

Dr

Faustus, p. 470)

There is a remarkable moment i n Thomas M a n n ' s novel Death Venice

in

(1912.) when the fifty-three-year-old Gustave von Aschenbach

recklessly surrenders to his infatuation w i t h a fourteen-year-old boy called T a d z i o - surrenders i n the sense not of consummating his desire, but of acknowledging it. For Aschenbach this surrender marks a self-disintegration w h i c h is also a temporary, intense self-awakening. Long-repressed energies and desires break into consciousness, momentarily bringing h i m alive even as they destroy h i m . L i k e Joseph C o n r a d , M a n n was fascinated by what M a x N o r d a u had called the 'higher degenerate', especially the way i n w h i c h he lived out the paradoxical connections between genius, disease, destruction and death. Throughout his life M a n n was drawn back to the romantic idea that the intimate connections between desire and death were mediated and intensified by genius and disease.

1

The three greatest influences on M a n n were Arthur Schopenhauer, R i c h a r d Wagner and Friedrich Nietzsche. Arguably, Schopenhauer i n The

World

as Will

and Representation

and Wagner i n Tristan

and

Isolde give the most significant explorations in philosophy and music, respectively, of desire's seduction by death. A s for Nietzsche, M a n n 2

believed (and the evidence is disputable) that this philosopher owed his intellectual creativity to illness and disease, and literally so: he regarded Nietzsche's development as a case history i n progressive syphilis, a disease w h i c h 'was to destroy his life but also to intensify it enormously. Indeed, that disease in Nietzsche was to exert stimulating 275

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effects in part beneficial, in part deadly, upon an entire era' p. 414; Last Essays,

pp. 1 4 6 - 7 ) .

(Essays,

3

For M a n n , genius in the grip of disease nurtures an energy at once creative and lethal, and generates the paradox that disease and death are only life manifested in its most vigorous form. Disease - and in this sense love, or at least infatuation, is a disease-effects an unbinding which energizes even as it destroys. Thus Aschenbach. M a n n is endlessly fascinated by all this - but it also explains why he cannot entirely dissociate Nietzsche from the fascism that appropriated h i m . M a n n ' s writing, especially his 1947 novel Dr Faustus,

remains important not

least for the way in which he anatomizes the death/desire dynamic in relation to the political history of the first half of the twentieth century.

Dr Faustus The composer Adrian Leverkühn, the Faustus figure in this novel, is a brilliant embodiment of M a n n ' s ambivalent attitude not only to Nietzsche, but also to his o w n creativity, and nowhere more so than in two extraordinary episodes in the novel: the one where Leverkühn enters into a dialogue with the Devil, the other where he deliberately has sex with a prostitute suffering from syphilis. After having been given a tour of Leipzig, Leverkühn asks his guide to recommend a restaurant. The guide delivers him instead to a brothel. Unawares, Leverkühn enters. A prostitute approaches him and brushes his cheek with her arm. He leaves hurriedly. The encounter affects him obscurely and deeply - on the occasion itself, but even more so subsequently. Fixation grows with recollection. M o r e than a year later he returns to the brothel to look for that same woman, w h o m he now names Esmeralda. She has left, gone elsewhere for 'hospital treatment'. He follows and finds her. She warns him she is syphilitic, and despite or rather because of this he has intercourse with her. There is a terrifying kind of daemonic love in the encounter: on her part because she warns him away, on his because he refuses to go. But in Leverkiihn there is also another kind of desire - something selfless, defiant, reckless, self-destructive, impossible - in the act of 276

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transgression itself, a 'deep, deeply mysterious conception,

for a deathly

unchaining

M A N N

longing

of chemical

change

for in his

daemonic nature"

(p. 151; my emphasis). The encounter manifests the fusion of eros 4

and death, binding and unbinding, disintegrating and decline as the ground of a powerful but agonized and temporary liberation into creativity: 'love and poison here once and for ever became a unity of experience;

frightful

the mythological unity embodied in the a r r o w '

(p. 150; my emphasis). This is desire as compulsion, obsession and fixation,

but also desire as a k i n d of 'choice' within compulsion -

w h i c h is to say 'a bond of love' (p. 150); a liberation, a temporary creative freedom, a momentary 'frightful unity of experience' that can be realized only in the embrace of death. Serenus Z e i t b l o m , the humanist narrator of Leverkühn's fate, can never recall this 'brief encounter' but with a shuddering sense of religious awe: i n it the one partner found salvation, and the other staked it. For her there was salvation in being found in demise, 'loved' by one w h o could not, and w o u l d never, forget her. For Leverkühn it is salvation i n the f o r m of its parodic, daemonic inversion: he is liberated into the agony of creativity, and the prostitute's name recurs 'often i n its inversion' in the f o r m of six-note series 'of peculiarly nostalgic character', and especially in his late w o r k , 'where audacity and despair mingle in so unique a w a y ' (pp. 1 5 1 - 2 ) . Leverkühn's encounter with the prostitute is closely based on what M a n n believed actually happened to Nietzsche, namely that the philosopher visited a brothel unawares and then fled on realizing where he was. A t the time, says M a n n , Nietzsche was unconscious of the impression the incident had made u p o n h i m . But it had been nothing more nor less than . . .

a 'trauma', a shock whose steadily

accumulating aftereffects — f r o m w h i c h his imagination never recovered — testify to the saint's receptivity to sin. (Last Essays, p.

145)

M a n n further believes that Nietzsche, like Leverkühn, returned to the brothel a year later and contracted syphilis, perhaps deliberately. The syphilitic Leverkühn, animated by disease and impending dissolution, becomes creatively potent. The paradox of life animated by death is the focus of his dialogue with the D e v i l , w h o tells h i m that life clutches with joy at that which is brought about 'by the way of 277

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death, of sickness', and that life is thereby led 'higher and further' (p. 229). What this means is that creative, genius-giving disease, disease that rides on high horse over all hindrances, and springs with drunken daring from peak to peak, is a thousand times dearer to life than plodding healthiness. I have never heard anything stupider than that from disease only disease can come. Life . . . takes the reckless product of disease, feeds on and digests it, and as soon as it takes it to itself it is health. Before the fact of fitness for life, my good man, all distinction of disease and health falls away. A whole host and generation of youth, receptive, sound to the core, flings itself on the work of the morbid genius, made genius by disease; admires it, praises it, exalts it, carries it away, assimilates it unto itself and makes it over to culture, (p. 236; my emphasis) This insistence that disease is life-enhancing precisely because it threatens permanent disintegration and impels the individual ineluctably deathward has its counterpart in an epistemology which is radically aesthetic and amoral: 'an untruth of a kind that enhances power holds its o w n against any ineffectively virtuous truth' (p. 236).

Death in Venice There is now only one thing left to be done, and that is to try to get well in Venice! (Nietzsche to Peter Gast, 1 March 1879) The moment of Aschenbach's surrender to T a d z i o in Death in Venice occurs when the boy smiles at him. It is the culmination of a development whereby Aschenbach's life-vision of a civilizing integration of the sensual and the spiritual finally collapses. A n d it is M a n n ' s achievement to make Aschenbach most intensely alive exactly then, at that moment of collapse. I return to this moment via other aspects of this novel, and via M a n n ' s sexuality. Aschenbach is a compelling incarnation of the tormented Freudian subject, strung out somewhere between desublimation, repression and neurosis. We encounter him at a point when his creativity is haunted by neurotic conflict. H i s entire life has been an attempt to discipline

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illicit sexual desire and sublimate it into art. The two main types of sublimated activity described by Freud - artistic creation and intellectual inquiry - both apply to Aschenbach, and in a way w h i c h closely follows Freud's further contention that illicit sexuality is sublimated in the service of civilization: we are told that Aschenbach is a hero of the cultural establishment w i t h books like A Study in Abjection,

w h i c h had earned the gratitude of a whole younger genera-

tion by suggesting that a man can still be capable of moral resolution even after he has plumbed the depths of knowledge (p. 2 0 2 ) . But not 5

knowledge of the depths of repressed desire, which - and again this is a Freudian idea - returns to destroy Aschenbach through the very mechanism w h i c h has been used to repress it: Platonism. Aschenbach repeatedly invokes Plato to rationalize his desire - only to desublimate it even further. The irony of this is exquisite, especially if we are even half persuaded by Nietzsche's contention that Plato is one of the founding fathers of Western repression and decadence. Aschenbach's sublimation is so very fragile; he is the writer w h o speaks for all those w h o ' w o r k on the brink of exhaustion, w h o labour and are heavy-laden, w h o are w o r n out but still stand upright'; for h i m 'art was a w a r , an exhausting struggle' (pp. 2 0 5 , 2 4 9 ) . The psychic cost of this never-ending struggle is terrible; he is consumed by fatigue in the service of his art. Forever on the edge of this neurotic exhaustion, he bears out Freud's contention that repression is not a one-off event but an interminable, consuming struggle: the process of repression is not to be regarded as an event which takes place once, the results of w h i c h are p e r m a n e n t . . . repression demands a persistent expenditure of force, and if this were to cease the success of the repression w o u l d be jeopardized . . . in obsessional neurosis the w o r k of repression is prolonged in a sterile and interminable struggle. ('Repression', pp. 151,

Death

in Venice

158)

begins at the point where Aschenbach is not only

exhausted by but is losing the struggle. A s the novel progresses, illicit desire increasingly undergoes desublimation, and the fragile, strained unity which is human identity, especially sexual identity, is disintegrated f r o m w i t h i n through a return of what has been repressed. In Aschenbach, M a n n explores something which also anticipates aspects of Freud's death drive. M o s t significantly there is the 6

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overwhelming subjective desire to become

CULTURE

unbound,

to undergo a

dissolution of consciousness and regress into oblivion, ultimately achieving a state of zero tension before consciousness, before life. Aschenbach gravitates to the (literary) archetype of the degenerate city, Venice, his identity chronically destabilized by the returning repressed and overwhelmed by a desire for release from the strain of being: 'he let his eyes wander in the sea's wide expanse, let his gaze glide away, dissolve and die in the monotonous haze of this desolate emptiness'. There were profound reasons for his attachment to the sea, including the need to 'escape from the demanding complexity of phenomena' and a forbidden longing deep within him that ran quite contrary to his life's task and was for that very reason seductive, a longing for the inarticulate and immeasurable, for eternity, for nothingness. To rest in the arms of perfection is the desire of any man intent upon creating excellence, and is not nothingness a form of perfection? (p. 224) Such is the price of maintaining civilization over (which is to say through) the repression and sublimation of the desire which would otherwise threaten it. Aschenbach exemplifies the desublimation of desire in a way which makes Death

in Venice much more amenable to a psychoanalytic

reading than, say, Heart of Darkness.

7

Another justification for such

a reading is that, unlike Conrad's novel, where perversity includes sexuality but is not reducible to it, M a n n ' s novel makes perversion essentially sexual, and so contributes towards the sexualizing of perversion. It is because Death in Venice is so susceptible to a psychoanalytic reading that I would suspend it, approaching the novel from a different perspective, and with a different question, which is also a question for psychoanalysis: W h y should - how can -

resurgent

homosexual desire become the ground of so very much? Here it is at the centre of an extraordinary narrative of terrifying acceleration into decline and an equally terrifying regression to a primitive past. It is also the permanent focus for what is so much more than sexual while always remaining at heart 'deeply' sexual. Both Freud and M a n n (and to a lesser extent D . H . Lawrence) centre homosexuality in this way. But, rather than use psychoanalysis to 280

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'explain' homosexuality, we should instead regard this very attempt to explain it as one aspect of a larger historical development whereby homosexuality is analysed to an obsessive degree and made the focus of fundamental social, psychic and aesthetic conflicts. In short, Death in Venice emerges f r o m something larger, as does psychoanalysis. T o submit this novel to the psychoanalytic narrative w h i c h it undoubtedly incorporates w o u l d be to leave unexamined its other equally significant representations of deviant desire w h i c h link it to a range of Western culture's recurring preoccupations, ranging f r o m Platonic idealism to degeneration. T h e influence of degeneration theory is surely apparent,

not

least in the way in w h i c h M a n n ' s novel makes sexual perversion the vehicle and focus for the same k i n d of paradox that we encountered in Conrad's novel - the supremely civilized subject is the one w h o becomes most susceptible to degeneration. Aschenbach half recognizes this when he ruefully contemplates how his o w n life as an artist 'had deviated f r o m [his ancestors] to the point of degeneracy' (p. 249). N o r can the question as to why homosexual desire now becomes the ground of so much be adequately answered without reference to the modern 'invention' of homosexuality for the purposes of social control w h i c h M i c h e l Foucault and others have explored. T h i s is indeed important, but too often this history is seen entirely negatively. Alongside and even inside it there was a more radical deployment of homosexuality, and it can be discerned in this novel by M a n n .

'The

rapture I felt': Mann's

homo

eroticism

Aschenbach rationalizes his desire for T a d z i o by comparing the latter's physical beauty with his o w n art. Nature, like the artist, works with discipline and precision to create perfect f o r m , and the boy's beauty is the physical counterpart of the spiritual beauty w h i c h is the artist's province. In pursuit of this idea, Aschenbach invokes its Platonic origins, and in one of its most famous expressions: in the words of Socrates, as invoked in the novel, 'Beauty is the lover's path to the spirit — [but] only the path, only a means' (p. 239). Perverse desire is 281

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rationalized into the service of civilization through one of the latter's most influential narratives. M a n n at times inclined towards just such a Platonic rationalization of his o w n homosexuality. A n important letter in 1920 to Carl M a r i a 8

Weber reveals that he also intended the novel to be a reconciliation of the difference between the Dionysian spirit of lyricism, whose outpouring is irresponsible and individualistic, and the A p o l l o n i a n , objectively controlled, morally and socially responsible epic. W h a t I was after was an equilibrium of sensuality and morality such as I found perfected in the Elective

Affinities,

which I read five times, if I remember correctly, while w o r k i n g on Death in

Venice. (Letters, pp. 102-3)

But it is precisely the impossibility of such an equilibrium that the novel discovers. M a y b e this is why it is from inside the Platonic/ Apollonian rationalization that the 'truth' of Aschenbach's transgressive desire is suggested; Socrates again, as invoked by M a n n : ' " d o you believe, dear boy, that the man whose path to the spiritual passes through the senses can ever achieve wisdom and true manly dignity? O r do you think rather (I leave it to you to decide) that this is a path of dangerous charm, very much an errant and sinful path which must of necessity lead us astray?" ' (Death in Venice,

p. 264).

For sure, in the novel Platonic idealization fails. Illicit desire destroys the idealization invoked to justify it and wrecks the rationalization which would contain it. This is true not only of Aschenbach, but also of the writing of the novel. W h i c h is not to say that M a n n is Aschenbach. It might be truer to say that M a n n distances and differs himself from Aschenbach because he also identified with h i m . M a n n had trouble finishing the novel. H e spoke of being 'tormented' by the work, calling it an 'impossible conception', and on another occasion of being 'terribly strained and worried by it'. Before beginning the novel, he wrote of suffering from fatigue. T . J . Reed, who records these difficulties, also shows how they are related to a change of emphasis in the work. Somewhere in the writing, and under great strain, M a n n changes from the Platonic redemption of Aschenbach to the more judgemental ending we have, drawing on Lukács's more pessimistic view of Platonism (Reed, pp. 1 5 0 - 5 4 , 163, 166). In the 282

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letter to Weber he indicates why, quoting lines f r o m the prologue to his otherwise unsuccessful poem 'The Lay of the Little Children': Amid tears the struggling spirit Pressed forward to speak in song. But alas there was no change. For a sobering effort began then, a chilling command to control. Behold, the intoxicate

song turned into a moral fable . . . (Letters, p. 103)

Are we to conclude from this that Death

in Venice

also is the

intoxicate song turned moral fable? If so, then the moral is as straightforward as Reed suggests: Aschenbach's disaster stems f r o m his failure to suspect passionate motives in his interest in T a d z i o . But Reed overlooks a great deal here, especially when he writes that Despite the ambiguities which are rooted in the genesis of Der Tod in Venedig, at least the direction of development is clear: in what it implies about the Artist, the story constitutes a moral victory which is nothing to do with the morality of homosexual love. (p. 177) Nothing? Surely not. Reed w o u l d see the novel as marking the creation of an ambivalent style, the breakthrough in M a n n ' s long-standing programme to elevate the genre of the novel and to move the novel of ideas beyond allegory; hereafter ambivalence is the central technique of M a n n ' s art: 'Less permanent than the acquisition of this technique was M a n n ' s commitment to critical intellect as the watchdog over human aberration. This had been reaffirmed after a testing experiment' (p. 178). It was never that simple, as the story's difficult genesis and composition make clear - difficulties inseparable f r o m the complex position of homosexuality in M a n n ' s o w n life, and i n modernity more generally. A n d this complex positioning of homosexuality in turn is the focus for the endless, destructive struggle between, in Freud's terms, desire and civilization, or, in M a n n ' s (via Nietzsche and the Greeks), the Dionysian and the A p o l l o n i a n . Explaining in the same letter to Weber his attitude to homosexuality and its part in Death

in Venice,

M a n n said that what he originally

wanted to deal with was 'not anything homoerotic at a l l ' but 'Passion as confusion and as a stripping of dignity', suggested by the seventyfour-year-old Goethe's infatuation with a seventeen-year-old girl. 283

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However, 'what was added to the amalgam at the time was a personal, lyrical travel experience that determined me to carry things to an extreme by introducing the motif of " f o r b i d d e n " love . . .'

(Letters,

pp. 1 0 3 - 4 ) . Here, intriguingly, the letter to Weber breaks off. Speculation as to why takes us back to the novel, a 'personal, lyrical travel experience' which M a n n also had trouble finishing, in which simply the act of travelling is represented as a kind of deviation: the solitude of the traveller encourages thoughts which are 'wayward, and never without a melancholy tinge', and which give birth to the original, to the beautiful, and to poetry, but also 'to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd' (p. 25). Resuming the letter - 'I had to put this letter aside for a while' — M a n n declares, 'I see nothing unnatural and a good deal of instructive significance, a good deal of high humanity, in the tenderness of mature masculinity for lovelier and frailer masculinity.' He respects this mode of feeling because it is 'almost necessarily infused with mind' - a point reiterated later: ' i n spite of its sensuality [it] has very little to do with nature, far more to do with m i n d ' . H o w simultaneously confident and implausible was this attitude can be glimpsed in a 1934 diary entry where M a n n reflects upon, and rationalizes, homoerotic attraction as aesthetic only - that is, requiring 'no fulfilment'. That day he has been 'pleasurably smitten by the sight of a young fellow working . . . very handsome, and bare to the waist': T h e rapture I felt at the sight of such c o m m o n , everyday, and natural 'beauty', the contours of his chest, the swell of his biceps, made me reflect afterward on the unreal, illusionary and aesthetic nature of such an inclination,

the

goal of which, it would appear, is realized in gazing and 'admiring'. Although erotic, it requires no fulfilment at all, neither intellectually nor physically. T h i s is likely thanks to the influence of the reality principle on the imagination; it allows the rapture, but limits it to just looking. (Diaries, p. 207)

Although diary entries indicate a strong homoerotic appreciation of male beauty and acknowledgement of homoerotic desire (e.g. pp. 118, 119, 207), the full extent of Mann's homosexuality has only recently been documented. Some days after writing the letter to 9

Weber, M a n n notes in his diary a 'stimulation failure' in relation to his wife, which he attributes to 'the customary confusion and 284

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unreliability of my " s e x - l i f e " ' and accounts for 'by the presence of desires that are directed the other way. H o w w o u l d it be if a young man were "at my disposal"?' (p. 101). In contrast to such entries, the letter to Weber endorses a sublimated homoeroticism, referring appreciatively to H a n s Blüher's The Role of the Erotic

munities

in Male

Com-

(1917). In this and another book influential in the formation

of the G e r m a n youth movement (The German an Erotic Phenomenon,

Youth Movement

as

1912) Blüher argued that it was the homosexual

w h o created communities and held them together through male bonding w h i c h was libidinally invested - but, crucially, in a sublimated f o r m , and hence spiritual rather than physical. M a n n describes Blüher's ideas as 'greatly and profoundly Germanic' (Letters,

p. 1 0 3 ) .

10

The

important point for M a n n is that this idealized, intellectualized, homoerotic love is not allied to 'effeminacy'. It is further distinguished f r o m what he calls its 'repulsively pathological' forms, as in degeneracy and hermaphroditism. In short, while M a n n repudiated the idea of homoeroticism as unnatural, and refused to denounce it, his public defence of it was as sublimated desire - a mixture of Greek idealism, Freudian sublimation and contemporary German advocacy of what is n o w called male or 'homosocial' bonding. Death

in Venice

is

partly about h o w all these sublimations, along w i t h the 'bourgeois compromise' that sanctions them, are wrecked by that w h i c h they w o u l d contain. In the same letter to Weber, M a n n also refers to his (Mann's) Betrachtungen

(Reflections

of

a Nonpolitical

Man)

as

a

covert

expression of his o w n homoeroticism. This is far more than a question of sexual preference: covert homoeroticism is here being advanced as the mainspring of M a n n ' s aesthetic and political philosophy. In the last and one of the most interesting chapters in the book, 'Irony and R a d i c a l i s m ' , M a n n expresses again his preoccupation w i t h the 'extremely delicate, difficult, exciting and p a i n f u l ' tension between 'life' and 'intellect' — one 'charged w i t h irony and eroticism' p. 105; cf. Reflections,

(Letters,

p. 419). It is also a relationship marked by

yearning, not only of intellect for life, but vice versa, and by a k i n d of bisexuality w h i c h passes back and forth between m i n d and life 'without

clarification

of the sexual

polarity'

(Letters,

p. 105; M a n n ' s

emphasis). For M a n n , the intellectual must be 'either an ironist or a 285

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A N D LOSS IN W E S T E R N C U L T U R E

radical; a third choice is not decently possible'. Perhaps there is not even a choice between these two, since the love which intellect has for life is anyway profoundly ironic: Intellect that loves is not fanatic, it is ingenious, it is political, it woos, and its w o o i n g is erotic irony. O n e has a political term for this: it is 'conservatism'. W h a t is conservatism? T h e erotic irony of the intellect. (Reflections,

pp. 4 1 9 -

20)

That the love M a n n has in mind here is homoerotic is apparent from his reference to Friedrich Hölderlin's poem 'Socrates and Alcibiades', which he regards as one of the world's most beautiful love poems, and as encapsulating his o w n philosophy as just outlined: ' H o l y Socrates, why always with deference D o you treat this young man? D o n ' t you k n o w greater things? W h y so lovingly, raptly, As on gods, do you gaze on him?' W h o the deepest has thought loves what is most alive, W i d e experience may well turn to what's best in youth, A n d the wise in the end will Often bow to the beautiful.

(Hölderlin, Poems and Fragments, p. 67)

Behind all the reticence and talk of irony, M a n n speculates about founding an aesthetic philosophy from the intense apprehension of, a yearning for, male beauty: ' W h o the deepest has thought loves what is most alive.' A n d yet there remains a kind of impossibility in the yearning of intellect for life. First because the yearning is essentially 'covert', marked by a 'sly longing'. Indeed, says M a n n , it is this ' " c o v e r t " yearning which perhaps constitutes the truly philosophical and poetical relationship of mind to life' (Letters, p. 105). Then there 11

is what M a n n calls 'the problem

of beauty", namely that intellect and

life each perceive beauty to reside in the other; somehow this means that between life and intellect there can be no union, 'only the short intoxicating illusion of union and understanding, eternal tension without resolution' (Reflections,

p. 420). Aschenbach in Death

in

Venice

dies because he cannot maintain that 'eternal tension'. As we shall

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see, he also dies i n the wake of a powerful mythology connecting desire with psychic and social death. Twelve years after Reflections,

M a n n published an even more

revealing essay, on the homosexual German writer August von Platen ( 1 7 9 6 - 1 8 3 5 ) , a figure alluded to i n Death

in Venice.

Again we see

how profoundly the experience of male beauty was influencing not just the themes M a n n chose to write about, but his entire aesthetic. Aspects of Aschenbach derive f r o m Platen's life; the latter fled Italy to escape a cholera epidemic, but later died of the disease anyway. H e wrote seventeen sonnets about Venice, a city w h i c h attracted h i m deeply though disturbingly. The extent to w h i c h Aschenbach derives 12

from Platen can be seen from M a n n ' s remark about the latter's death: 'After a further nine years' stress of emotions and their suppression, he died at Syracuse of a vague typhus attack w h i c h was nothing but a pretext for the death to w h i c h obviously he was devoted f r o m the first' (Essays, p. 269). M a n n identified Aschenbach with Platen, and personally identified with both. W h i c h is why his essay about Platen is both reverential and critical, i n places callous: as with Aschenbach, M a n n needed to distance himself f r o m , as well as express himself through, the writer. Some w o u l d call this 'irony'; perhaps it is also nothing less than a strategy of survival. M a n n is especially appreciative of Platen's poem 'Tristan', w h i c h affirms the intimate connection between desire and death: T h e man who has once fed his eyes on beauty M o v e s by that very act into death's keeping

G o d ! he must sicken like the failing wellspring, W a n t s to suck poison f r o m each breeze, putrid D e c a y f r o m every flower he loves smelling . . . (11. 1-2,

n-13)

Beauty evokes a longing, a yearning that cannot be satisfied; for h i m w h o has perceived exquisite male beauty 'The ache of love with h i m is everlasting' (1. 6). M a n n commends the poem for its 'endless psychological riches' (p. 262; my emphasis). Platen was afflicted with 'melancholy, adoring love . . . endless, unquenchable love w h i c h issues in death, w h i c h is death, because it finds no satisfaction on earth' 287

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(p. 261). M a n n rightly observes that the fatal connection here is more between beauty and death than between love and death - 'the arrow of beauty is the arrow of death and eternal pain of yearning' (p. 261). One of A d r i a n Leverkühn's greatest works is called Apocalypse,

and

it expresses an 'inaccessibly unearthly and alien beauty of sound, filling the heart with longing without hope' (Dr Faustus,

p. 364). This

surely is one of romanticism's most persistent themes: the intense apprehension of beauty whose precondition seems to be suffering, failure, tragedy and death. A n d for Platen that love of beauty was gloriously abject; his ideal was, says M a n n , 'a naked idol of perfection w i t h a Greek-Oriental eye-formation, before w h o m he knelt i n abasement and agonizing longing'. In the fantasy of fellatio alluded to here there is much emotional complexity - and maybe, for M a n n , hints of a certain fascistic adoration which has its roots in self-loathing: before this heavenly image of male beauty, imagines M a n n , Platen's o w n pathetic, hypochondriac self 'dissolved i n shame' (p. 263). A n d then the hint of contempt and again of fellatio: i n practice as distinct f r o m fantasy, and again with strains of Aschenbach, Platen 'made sensible moan over the . . . upstandingness [Nichts-als-Gerade-gewachsenbeit]

of a

quite ordinary and average youth or t w o ' (p. 265). T h i s homoerotic worship of male beauty is deeply a question of intellect. That is why it led Platen into 'a radical anti-morality, a deep bond with the beautiful, even contrary to the interests of nature' and an aestheticism which involved the most conscious formal structure, 'a most deathlike rigidity' which teaches that the principle of beauty and f o r m does not spring f r o m life; indeed its only relation to life 'is at most one of stern and melancholy critique: it is the relation of mind to life'. A n d the more this k i n d of aestheticism lifts itself out of the sensual, 'the more masculine it becomes'. For Platen, unrequited desire became self-destructive; anger and struggle did not exalt h i m but dragged h i m d o w n — 'they were dammed up, they kept stagnating i n psychological embitterment, turning into a hatred of m a n k i n d , in w h i c h , with perfect clarity, he recognized the forerunner of death' (pp. 2 6 1 , 2 6 7 - 8 ) . So death is latent both in the aspiration of the sensibility and in the consequence of its being thwarted.

288

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The smile which wrecks Aschenbach is, we're told, a speaking, w i n ning, captivating smile; the smile of Narcissus: curious, faintly uneasy, and bewitching. After receiving it, Aschenbach literally collapses before rushing into the dark night, all composure lost. The lifting of repression can only be whispered as a hackneyed phrase - simply, 'I love y o u . ' (Aren't we always least original when in love?) Yet this cliche, this radical unoriginality, marks Aschenbach as momentarily more alive than at any other time in his life: And leaning back, his arms hanging down, overwhelmed, trembling, shuddering all over, he whispered the standing formulae of the heart's desire impossible here, absurd, depraved, ludicrous and sacred nevertheless, still worthy of honour even here: 'I love you!' (p. 244) It's as if de-repressed desire meets w i t h , and momentarily animates, the ego before shattering it. F r o m this point on homoerotic desire becomes the focus and the medium for yet more, now linking together disease, death and the decadent city. Decadence was always there; T a d z i o radiates a beauty which is said to be noble, and austere, yet almost immediately he is observed to have unhealthy teeth, a sign of the anaemic, the delicate and the sickly. Aschenbach reflects that the boy w i l l not live to grow old, but 'made no attempt to explain to himself a certain feeling of satisfaction or relief that accompanied this thought' (pp. 2 2 7 - 8 ) . T h i s is not exactly the heroic, romantic or tragic refusal of age and failure through early death; more the decadent and perhaps vengeful pleasure of realizing that the object of his desire w i l l succumb to an inherent degeneracy. Homoerotic desire also mediates between the primeval past and the decadent present. The 'progressive' city, just as much as 'timeless' nature, bears the traces of the primeval. Before arriving in Venice a city built on swamps — Aschenbach imagines 'a landscape, a tropical swampland under a cloud-swollen sky, moist and lush and monstrous, a k i n d of primeval wilderness' (p. 199). A primeval past is archaeologically just beneath as well as geographically just beyond the degenerate present.

13

N o w , this city's o w n 'guilty secret . . . merged with his

o w n innermost secret', and, just as desire has fatally re-energized Aschenbach, so the 'pestilence had undergone a renewal of its energy, 289

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as if the tenacity and fertility of its pathogens had redoubled'. Forbidden desire, like disease, is at first latent, then spreads, then erupts: Asiatic cholera had

been showing an increased tendency to spread

and

migrate. O r i g i n a t i n g in the sultry morasses of the Ganges delta, rising with the mephitic exhalations of that wilderness of rank useless luxuriance, that primitive island jungle shunned by man . . . the pestilence had raged, (pp. 246,

256-7)

Disease here works as a metaphor for the resurgence of the primeval in and through the decadent, and homosexual desire is its trigger. It culminates in a 'terrible dream', an orgy of lust in which the scene of the events was his o w n soul, and they irrupted into it f r o m the outside, violently defeating his resistance — a p r o f o u n d intellectual resistance - as they passed through h i m , and leaving his whole being, the culture of a lifetime, devastated and destroyed, (p.

259)

Fear is mixed with desire and (fine touch) 'a horrified curiosity'. The desire is to some extent passive: what is i n prospect is a 'shameless . . . uttermost surrender' in which Aschenbach fantasizes fearfully about being annihilated or being fucked senseless, unsure of the difference. The sequence of the dream follows a process of violent desublimation: f r o m fear and resistance through beguilement to naked desire - 'a blindness, a dizzying lust' and a craving with all his soul to join the dance paying homage to the 'obscene symbol, wooden and gigantic' of the godhead. In this 'orgy of limitless coupling . . . his very soul savoured the delirium of annihilation' (p. 260). Aschenbach awakens and, now shameless, follows T a d z i o through the Venetian streets, feeling as though the moral law has fallen in ruins and only the monstrous and perverse hold out a hope (p. 261). If the death drive delivers oceanic dissolution, desublimated eros drives towards Dionysiac self-destruction in a way, and to an extent, w h i c h binds together eros and thanatos more closely even than Freud imagined. T o be wrecked by a winning smile - from such moments as these can be told the truth, pleasure, arrogance, vulnerability and pathos of love, and the ways in w h i c h it is inflected by masochism. But not by M a n n ; not quite. T o have allowed Aschenbach to go this far was necessarily also to regard h i m , or at least his desire, as unredeemable. 290

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Hence the emergence of that other representation of homosexual desire: the Freudian narrative of desublimated perversion unites with the pathological narrative of the degenerate, the decadent and the primitive; together they shatter the Platonic rationalization w h i c h had precariously held that desire in place. Recall that the homoeroticism w h i c h M a n n wanted to defend had to be distinguished from its 'repulsively pathological' forms. H e was, he says, compelled to see Aschenbach 'also in a pathological light', with the consequence that 'in Death

in Venice the highest is drawn d o w n into the realm of

decadence' (Letters,

pp. 103, 105).

O n desire as the ruin of identity, the shattering of self, Death Venice

in

is insightful, occasionally sublime. Fortunately, if unsurpris-

ingly, its success in this respect wrecked M a n n ' s rather banal original aim of affirming an equilibrium between sensuality and morality. But this made it the more urgent to try to discriminate 'civilized' homoeroticism from its degenerate and decadent forms. Aschenbach deviates f r o m the one to the other, and so succumbs to decadence, disease and death.

14

Aschenbach's 'devolution' is similar to that of

K u r t z in Conrad's Heart of Darkness,

and it too reflects the influence

of degeneration theory. But still the novel speaks this other truth of perversion: the challenge is not so much of homosexuality per se, the definitive sexual perversion in the discourses of sexology and psychoanalysis, but of the perverse dynamic w o r k i n g in and through homosexuality. Death in Venice anticipates what G u y Hocquenghem said some sixty years later in a different context: 'homosexual desire is neither on the side of death nor on the side of life; it is the killer of civilized egos' (p. 136). The return of the perverse wrecks its former disavowal to an extent made possible by the fact that the perverse is n o w deeply sexual and its disavowal is an organizing repression of an identity, an aesthetic and, increasingly, an entire culture. That is what the novel explores. So do M a n n ' s Diaries,

and in ways

w h i c h still apparently require censorship more than seventy years later. That is because yet again the perverse emerges in just the place it might least be expected — both conventionally and according to M a n n himself - that is, inside the bourgeois family. M a n n confessed himself divided between 'bourgeois' family life and something else 'associations of m e n . . . eroticism, unbourgeois intellectually sensuous 291

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adventures' (Letters,

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CULTURE

p. 105). Recall that Aschenbach reflects that

passion is like crime, welcoming every challenge to the bourgeois structure because finding i n the ensuing chaos circumstances it can turn to its o w n advantage (Death in Venice,

p. 246).

Days after outlining his thoughts on homoeroticism in the letter to Weber, M a n n records an experience similar to Aschenbach's, only n o w incestuous as well as homoerotic; it occurs in relation to his son, aged fourteen - the age of T a d z i o in the novel: A m enraptured with Eissi, terribly handsome in his s w i m m i n g trunks. F i n d it quite natural that I should fall in love with my son . . . I came back Friday evening on the very fast new train . . . short conversation with the attractive y o u n g man in white trousers sitting next to me in third class. V e r y pleasurable. It seems I a m once and for all done with w o m e n ? . . . Eissi was lying tanned and shirtless on his bed, reading; I was disconcerted. (Sunday July 25

1920)

T h e n , three months later, seeing his son naked: Deeply struck by his radiant adolescent body; overwhelming. - [ . . . ]

(Diaries,

p p . 101, 103)

(The bracketed ellipsis at the end of this quotation indicates a passage censored in the German edition of the Diaries

on the grounds that it

was too private.) M a n n had told Weber that he had felt compelled to write Death in Venice f r o m a perspective described as the altogether n o n - ' G r e e k ' but rather Protestant, Puritan ('bourgeois') basic state of m i n d not only of the story's protagonists but also of myself; in other words our fundamentally mistrustful, fundamentally pessimistic relationship to passion in general. (Letters, p.

103)

Prejudice against the puritan and the bourgeois should not lead us to underestimate the scope of the pessimism invoked here; M a n n is speaking of nothing less than the pessimism of the Western tradition itself. In this novel homosexuality inherits the burden of a tradition already embedded in the culture, and immeasurably strengthened i n the relatively recent mythologies of romanticism, degeneration theory and psychoanalysis (the last of which M a n n partly anticipates), all of which (albeit i n incommensurately different ways) find death inside 292

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desire. Thus the cholera-ridden Aschenbach, moments before his death, watching T a d z i o walk out to sea, sees h i m seemingly beckoning h i m into 'the nebulous v a s t n e s s . . . an immensity rich with unutterable expectation' (p. 267). It may also be that homoeroticism inherits, via a displacement, the cultural burden of incest: i n the diary entries just cited, and others, including one written the day after the letter on homosexuality to Weber, M a n n speaks of his erotic attraction towards his son in the context of reflections on his o w n homosexuality, apparently regarding the first as an aspect of the second. By 'cultural burden' is meant more than individual guilt, w h i c h M a n n never seemed much susceptible to anyway; it refers to the much longer and more inclusive process I have been describing whereby homosexuality becomes the symbolic focus for cultural preoccupations w h i c h far exceed it and yet w h i c h are now inextricably involved with it. Perhaps too homosexuality inherits the burden of paedophilia: the story of Death in Venice was based closely on an actual trip to Venice i n w h i c h M a n n developed an infatuation w i t h a Polish boy w h o was later identified as Wladyslaw, subsequently Baron, M o e s . A t the time, this real-life counterpart of T a d z i o was not fourteen but ten.

15

293

20 Promiscuity and Death

A t the outset of the A I D S crisis, in the early 1980s, the tabloid press angrily denounced, even as it recorded i n salacious detail, the numbers of sexual partners gay men were alleged to have i n a day, a month or a year. Orgiastic sexual freedom had become the way of death, and if Christians w h o believed A I D S to be the wages of sin were a vocal but relatively insignificant minority, those who regarded A I D S as somehow the inevitable if not appropriate fate for sexual deviants were less vocal but more numerous. The gay bathhouses became the focus of intense hostility. Whereas a decade earlier gay writers like G u y Hocquenghem could celebrate them as the scene of a 'primary sexual communism' (p. 97), n o w , in the popular imagination (and this included the imagination of some gay people), they figured as places of contagion and danger, where the sexually obsessed deviant became at once suicidal and murderous. W h i c h leads back to this book's point of departure: H u g o , the character f r o m Oscar M o o r e ' s A Matter

of Life and Sex, in the Parisian bathhouses; the philosopher

M i c h e l Foucault in the Californian ones. This association of homosexual promiscuity and death had been made before, and by some gay people themselves. James B a l d w i n writes vividly of the N e w Y o r k homosexual underworld w h i c h he knew in his teens: Sometimes, eventually, inevitably, I w o u l d find myself in bed with one

of

these men, a despairing and dreadful conjunction, since their need was

as

relentless as quicksand and as impersonal, and sexual r u m o u r concerning blacks had preceded me.

A s for sexual roles, these were created by

imagination and limited only by one's stamina.

294

the

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At bottom what I had learned was that the male desire for a male roams everywhere, avid, desperate, unimaginably lonely, culminating often in drugs, piety, madness or death. It was also dreadfully like watching myself at the end of a long, slow-moving line: soon I would be next. A l l of this was very frightening. It was lonely, and impersonal and demeaning. I could not believe - after all, I was only nineteen - that I could have been driven to the lonesome place where these men and I met each other so soon, to stay. ('Here be Dragons', p. 683)

1

Before A I D S , homosexual promiscuity was often regarded as epitomizing an impossibility of desire unique to the homosexual by virtue of his or her supposed immaturity and inauthenticity. Hocquenghem, writing i n 1972, had remarked the tendency to think of homosexual promiscuity as indicative of 'the fundamental instability of the homosexual condition, the search for a dream partner through a series of brief, unsatisfactory affairs' (pp. 1 1 7 - 1 8 ) .

2

In the context of A I D S ,

there were some for w h o m this specifically gay version of desire's impossibility became intensified into a k i n d of death-driven futility. Rupert Haselden, self-identified as gay, writing in 1991 in the British 3

left/liberal newspaper The Guardian,

asks why the L o n d o n cruise

bars are filling up again, despite A I D S . H e concludes: There is an inbuilt fatalism to being gay. Biologically maladaptive, unable to reproduce, our futures are limited to individual existence and what the individual makes of it. Without the continuity of children we are selfdestructive, living for today because we have no tomorrow. So, continues Haselden, gay men try to escape from a hostile w o r l d by becoming promiscuous. A t the same time they exemplify a general futility of existence, reminding others of their o w n mortality. A s regards A I D S , w h i c h 'dangles like a flashing neon sign in the bars and clubs', fear has given way to acceptance: 'we are coming to see it as our fate'; A I D S has become an excuse for a fatalistic attitude to life, intensified by the thrill of 'dicing w i t h death, of tempting fate'. A n d , according to this same writer, the same thing is happening all round the w o r l d in the dangerously promiscuous scenarios of gay culture.

4

295

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CULTURE

dragons

Almost as important as the promiscuous activity itself is its location: Haselden's article was accompanied by a graphic black-and-white shot of a gay bar 'packed with men . . . pushing gently past one another i n a tide of desire' (p. 14). In fiction especially the gay underworld has often been a place of both death and redemption. The title of the essay from which the Baldwin passage above is cited, 'Here be Dragons', invokes those ancient map markings signifying the dangerous, u n k n o w n , mythically remote terrains, extensive and uncharted, which

were fearful and fascinating, terrifying and

seductive, precisely because they were so far beyond our o w n horizons. Such places echo in the mythology of the modern city underworld residually w i l d , but above all shadowy and transient, full of some magic and rather more loss. Epitomizing that w o r l d is the basement club. Sometimes such clubs are exclusive: more often they are accessible to all w h o meet the dress code and have the entrance fee; even so, they remain places of adventure — especially for the alienated modern writer out to recapture the thrill of descending into the dark night of the soul's darker desires, just as did B a l d w i n years ago. H e , after a l l , became a fine novelist more because than in spite of his alienating experience in that underworld. H i s 1957 novel Giovanni's

Room

describes a tragic homosexual

relationship between D a v i d and G i o v a n n i which leads to Giovanni's execution for murder. A t the end of the novel, D a v i d , the survivor, stares at himself, naked, in a mirror: I l o o k at my sex,

my troubling sex,

and wonder how it can be redeemed,

h o w I can save it f r o m the knife. T h e journey to the grave is already begun, the journey to corruption is always, already, half over. Yet the key to

my

salvation, w h i c h cannot save my body, is hidden in my flesh. I must believe that the heavy grace of G o d , w h i c h has brought me to this place, is all that can carry me out of it. (pp. 126-7)

In gay fiction f r o m Radclyffe H a l l onwards we encounter the gay underworld as a place where the hero or heroine suffers into truth,

296

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DEATH

and, by dissociating himself or herself f r o m the tormented inhabitants of that place, writes of its tragedy. These heroes and heroines are romantic, fallen figures w h o suffer, and maybe redeem, or at least atone for, that alienation which they find at the heart of deviant desire. So charged are such scenes they could almost be regarded as a convention of some gay writing - by which I mean not a formalist disregard of reality, but rather a representation of distress, of lack and longing, which makes sense of it by recourse to art, and in ways w h i c h elicit understanding and even identification, without having to be trusted. Whatever, such scenes have been one way of trying to struggle free f r o m , of redeeming, the apparent mutual implication of death and desire. Another way was revolution.

Revolution

and

redemption

Briefly i n the 1970s the promiscuous homosexual encounter became the inspiration for revolutionary aspirations, the new spearhead of an already existing sexual radicalism: Promiscuous homosexuals (outlaws with dual identities . . .) are the shock troops of the sexual revolution. The streets are the battleground, the revolution is the sexhunt, [and] a radical statement is made each time a man has sex with another on a street. . . T h i s radicalism promised life, or orgasm, instead of death: Cum instead of blood. Satisfied bodies instead of dead ones. Death versus orgasm. Would they bust everyone? With cum-smeared tanks would they crush all? (Rechy, p. 301) But, even as J o h n Rechy was writing this, the w i l d space of the promiscuous encounter was narrowing even further (from underworld to bar to bathhouse), with the sexual practices becoming more transgressive (sado-masochism and fist-fucking) but rather harder to represent as revolutionary; the wilderness of a once vaguely defined illicit sexuality became in a sense even wilder, yet n o w precisely and ritualized.

297

defined

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N o t inappropriately, M i c h e l Foucault once called the bathhouses laboratories of sexual experimentation. It is this urban confinement of homosexual transgression that is most striking in postwar gay culture. Where once the romantic homosexual exile wandered abroad, sometimes literally across seas and continents, in search of the liberation of the foreign and the exotic, n o w he tends to haunt the claustrophobic spaces of the bathhouse. Yet even there we hear echoes of those earlier times. After an unsuccessful sexual encounter, the narrator of M i c h a e l Rumaker's A Day and a Night

at the Baths,

laments, 'I

have always felt myself a person in exile, anonymous in the cities, inconspicuous i n the windowless cubicles of baths such as this; banned from the rural places . . .' (p. 27). In Rumaker's text, contemporary with Rechy's The Sexual

Outlaw

(1977), sexual revolution is already only an ironic half-hope, half-joke: 'If this secret gets out, it'll revolutionize the w o r l d , ' whispers a boy w h o m the narrator has just b l o w n (p. 32). Rumaker affirms a view of promiscuous, deviant sex as now benignly redemptive rather than tragically redemptive (Baldwin) or violently revolutionary (Rechy). H i s narrator is cautious, domesticated and very much on the side of ordinary life, taking with h i m to the baths not drugs but a packed lunch of health food. W h i l e there, he's careful to stub out his cigarettes in the right places to avoid fire hazard, regrets having forgotten his skin moisturizer, and is careful about hygiene. If revolution is unrealistic, Rumaker is nevertheless optimistic about the democracy of the bathhouse. Here 'without estrangements of class or money or position, or false distinctions of any k i n d . . . was the possibility to be nourished and enlivened in the blood-heat and heartbeat of others, regardless of w h o or what we were. N u r t u r i n g others we nurture ourselves' (p. 17). H a v i n g had sex with an o l d man, he says afterwards, ' G a y father . . . thank y o u ' (p. 63). G o o d sex brings 'a surge of renewed aliveness I hadn't k n o w n since c h i l d h o o d ' with a man w h o , departing, says, ' I ' l l see you at the next G a y Pride M a r c h ' (p. 55, cf. p. 17). F r o m such experiences the narrator envisions, albeit briefly, a Utopian w o r l d where sex is free and benign and healing; in great green parks people w i l l engage i n 'mutually consenting and courteous erotic play'. The narrator even imagines that every home t o w n in America w i l l one day have a free public bath i n which 298

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A N D D E A T H

purified mothers and other women teach the girl-children and purified fathers and other men teach the boy-children, in gentle massage, in merry bubblewinking strokes of beginning awareness . . . in encouraging right and clean and courteous ways . . . and then none can ever be unkind to another, (p. 47) T h e n gay children w i l l live again, the mental hospitals w i l l empty, and the prison population w i l l be depleted (p. 47). W h e n the narrator gets fucked in group sex, gender division is effortlessly transcended: ' N o w I am a w o m a n , and now I am a man, there's no confusion. The falseselves slide away i n my nakedness.' Still being fucked, he is possessed by revelation, as in the mystery rites, 'subsumed in the w i l l and drive of eros . . . taken d o w n and d o w n into the nameless, faceless, anonymous dark of the flesh . . . T o k n o w it is all a beauty of beginning,

of the sane and healthy

lust that

makes us all. . .' Here, ecstasy is a 'revelation . . . that w i l l keep me sane and whole' (pp. 7 1 - 2 ; my emphasis). Ecstasy becomes the truth of self and of history and of time: 'Let this be my history n o w to k n o w what has always been' (p. 72). This allegorical appropriation of primitive sexual ritual provides a significant contrast with that in Thomas M a n n ' s Death

in

Venice,

explored in the previous chapter. For Rumaker the connection with a primitive past is all about a therapeutic recovering of a lost wholeness, of being freed f r o m the 'falseselves' of sexual difference, of being put back in touch with the 'sane and healthy lust that makes us a l l ' . For M a n n ' s Aschenbach it's just the opposite; as we saw, the primitive sexual ritual of w h i c h he dreams does indeed hold out the possibility of a liberation of the self, but one inseparable from an anarchic annihilation of the self: 'his very soul savoured the lascivious delirium of annihilation'. A s with Bataille, the dissolution being dreamed is profoundly spiritual yet also physical; in this, M a n n is true to his Greek sources. Aschenbach dreams his o w n death with an ambivalent mixture of fear, desire, joy and curiosity, in a ritual w h i c h is anarchic, violent, bestial and stinks of 'wounds, uncleanness, and disease'. The 'uttermost surrender' that Aschenbach desires when drawn irresistibly to 'the obscene symbol' of the godhead, 'wooden and gigantic', is a masochistic, penetrative ecstasy whose climax is death (pp. 259—61). Little room here, then, for Rumaker's packed lunches and safety-first.

299

5

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IN W E S T E R N

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M a n n subscribes to a view of sexual desire, especially deviant sexual desire, as offering the prospect of a sexual ecstasy with the potential to wreck the self and even challenge the existing social order. T h i s is a conception of desire which exists residually in Rumaker's text, but which is n o w overwritten by the historically much more recent view of desire as intrinsically benign, wholesome and redemptive. In Rumaker's w o r l d , gay people have arrived at maturity when they feel 'comfortable' with their sexuality. Although he doesn't single out Rumaker's text, it expresses exactly the k i n d of normalizing, pastoralizing and redemptive version of homosexuality that Leo Bersani criticizes so cogently in a famous article called 'Is the Rectum a Grave?' H e is against this vision, first, because it is 'unnecessarily and even dangerously tame'; second, because it is disingenuous about the revulsion which homosexual behaviour inspires, and, third, because it wants to dilute the menace which homosexuality holds for a homophobic society: T h e revulsion it turns out is all a big mistake: what we're really up to is pluralism and diversity, and getting buggered is just one

moment in

the

practice of those laudable humanistic virtues, (pp. 2 1 8 - 1 9 )

Reading Rumaker, one wonders h o w anyone could ever imagine that sexual desire could ever be thought to redeem so much while at the same time occluding even more; in other words, h o w can desire be so completely and unrealistically colonized by the language of saneness, health, wholeness and optimism? If Rumaker's

exiles,

p r o w l i n g 'the litter and stink of this hidden-away bathhouse', are seeking 'the miracle of a barely imagined paradise . . . a tiny glint of the shy and elusive flower that enfolds the secret and the meaning' (p. 4 6 ) , they are searching for nothing less than the meaning of existence and the redemption of self and the w o r l d . C a n sex, even deviant sex, carry such a religious responsibility? W h e n it fails to deliver, as it must, then the quest for redemption, just like the religiosity from which it borrows so heavily, so often becomes death-haunted. Such, i n fact, is the case with Rumaker's text. Actually it begins with death: on his way to the baths, the narrator encounters the aftermath of a suicide who had jumped f r o m the Empire State Building. 'Intimate with suicide among us', he wonders 300

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if the victim was gay, and so tormented by 'traditional ignorance . . . the hostility around h i m , and, finally, his o w n ' that he had flung himself ' w i t h unutterable r e l i e f f r o m the eighty-fifth floor (p. 2). A little later we encounter the desperate and pathetic desire of those close to death (pp. 1 9 - 2 0 ) , and the aggressive behaviour of those w h o remind h i m of the sexually brutal men he had searched out in the past, 'unconsciously seeking my o w n internalized need for punishment and death' (p. 59). Then there is the youth, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, w h o is already old and trapped for the rest of his days in one of these bathhouse cubicles, his desire gone meaningless, only the spasms of habit remaining, returning him again and again to this spot; someone damned to haunt these hallways forever, even long after the building collapsed in decay and dust or burned . . . the aborted and beaten spirit of him prowling always, (p. 27) Such desperation - the old impossibility of desire - is concealed by a flat expression or bored, indifferent eyes (p. 39). O f course, all this misery can be attributed to social oppression w h i c h is to say that, in the better society which it is in our power to achieve, it w i l l disappear. A n d , for the narrator, even as we are waiting for that social transformation to occur, the negative sexual scenario can resolve itself into a benignly redemptive one, just as i n the midst of clap and syphilis there are always penicillin, free V D examinations, and the G a y M e n ' s Health Project in Greenwich Village (p. 28). Even so, and despite the fact that Rumaker is writing p r e - A I D S , there is, throughout his text, a fear of ineradicable disease, and a persistent connection of desire with such disease. This connection is literal, but also works as a metaphor for the helpless self-destructiveness of desire: the narrator imagines a beautiful arse to be 'rampant with hepatitis, the penises that flamed with passion flaming with spirochetes as w e l l ' ; he also imagines sailors carrying all manner of disease f r o m all parts of the globe to this one place - 'carrying here centuries-old infections of the fathers'. A n d the 'gay sons' driven by desire to risk these infection, 'driven to this contagious harbor again and again', there being 'no ports free of the contaminating fathers' (p. 28). So, as the narrator explores this misery, there is the sense that redemption might not be so easy after a l l . H e remarks, poignantly, 301

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the 'love-scrawls of K Y - s t i c k y fingers' on the cubicle walls, 'graffiti tracks of passion' evoking 'the cries and breaths and urgencies of all w h o had ever come in secret yearning to this cubicle' (p. 23). O n the one hand, those scrawls are the definitive traces of urban transience and anonymity, inside of which the most memorable of all experiences may occur; on the other, they document the endlessly repeated sexual encounter i n which nothing changes, least of all the loneliness of desire - a loneliness invulnerable even to redemptive sex: 'So many of us frightened here . . . so many urgent

and perilous

faces that passed me with

need that seemed to have nothing

the look

to do with

of sex'

(p. 4 5 ; my emphasis). Rumaker's vision of desire as benign remains haunted by death because his vision of homosexual desire in both its alienated and its redeemed forms is through and through religious. Likewise with Rechy. It is not surprising to find this advocate of the revolutionary fuck telling an interviewer, 'after a night of hustling and dark cruising alleys, I think of suicide'. T o another interviewer - there is a strong confessional need here too - he says, 'Finally, that's the only freedom you have . . . the freedom to die' (pp. 71, 48). For Rechy, for most of the time, the alienation which precipitated such suicidal lows can mainly be laid at the door of social oppression. But his entire aesthetic/ theological take on sexual deviance remains rooted in an older view as expressed by B a l d w i n , above: 'the male desire for a male roams everywhere, avid, desperate, unimaginably lonely, culminating often in drugs, piety, madness or death'. Likewise with H u g o in M o o r e ' s A Matter

of Life and Sex. W h a t emerges is the sense of desire as

somehow impossible; he is 'helpless. Pinioned by lust' (p. 2 5 5 ) , yet unable to achieve ecstasy. H i s sexual life 'was a future whose past was always more exciting . . . a future with loneliness sewn into the seam and death woven into the fabric, unseen until too late, a single sinister thread' (p. 144). Sometimes he strains 'for the relief of an orgasm which, when it came, was only a spasm without the shudder, an anti-climax that offered no feeling of relief. Just a small grey wave of depression' (p. 39). Hugo's sexual compulsiveness suggests an inner futility to desire obscurely linked to a sense of loss which eventually binds death into desire. M e a n w h i l e , for Rupert Haselden homosexuality is intrinsically 302

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self-destructive, death-desiring and death-dealing - qualities epitomized i n its allegedly compulsive promiscuity; indeed, qualities that for h i m are almost synonymous with promiscuity and his belief that homosexuals are 'biologically maladaptive, unable to reproduce'. It might just be arguable that a l l , rather than just some, of the foregoing gay writers remain preoccupied with death because of an internalized homophobia. If Haselden is the most vulnerable to that charge, it is especially significant that Oscar M o o r e , the least vulnerable to it, said shortly before he died f r o m A I D S that i n the voices of those gays w h o attacked Haselden for saying what he d i d he detected an anger 'tinny w i t h self-justification and unease' ('Rites of Fatality', p. 19). In recent years, Leo Bersani, one of the most innovative gay intellectuals, has confronted this unease head-on.

Ecstasy and

self-annihilation

Bersani considers that phallocentrism is not primarily the denial of power to women but rather the denial of the value of powerlessness in both men and women. By 'powerlessness' he means not gentleness, non-aggressiveness, or even passivity, but rather the positive potential for a 'radical disintegration and humiliation of the s e l f (p. 217). This is masochism i n the sense of a sexual pleasure that crosses a threshold, and which shatters psychic organization; in which 'the self is exuberantly discarded' and there occurs 'the terrifying appeal of a loss of the ego, of a self-abasement' (pp. 2 1 8 , 220). A k i n d of death. T h i s means that the problematic aspects of sexuality cannot be seen to derive simply f r o m bad social relations. O n the contrary, 'the social structures f r o m which it is often said that the eroticizing of mastery and subordination derive are perhaps themselves derivations (and sublimations) of the indissociable nature of sexual pleasure and the exercise or loss of power' (p. 216). The terrifying appeal of a loss of the ego is, he continues, why men w h o engage in 'passive' anal sex are demonized. H e points to the anthropological evidence which suggests a widespread condemnation of such sex even in cultures that have not regarded sex between men as unnatural or sinful. Even or especially for the Athenians, to be penetrated was to abdicate power. 303

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Bersani concludes, i n what has become a controversial passage, 'if the rectum is the grave in which the masculine ideal (an ideal shared — differently - by men and women) of proud subjectivity is buried, then it should be celebrated for its very potential for death'. H e adds, in a passage less frequently cited: Tragically, AIDS has literalized that potential as the certainty of biological death, and has therefore reinforced the heterosexual association of anal sex with a self-annihilation originally and primarily identified with the fantasmatic mystery of an insatiable, unstoppable female sexuality. It may, finally, be in the gay man's rectum that he demolishes his own perhaps otherwise uncontrollable identification with a murderous judgment against him. (p. 222) Bersani also wonders whether we should say, not that so-called passive sex is 'demeaning', but rather that 'the value of sexuality demean

the seriousness

of efforts

to redeem if

itself is to

(p. 222). In that sense

homoerotic desire especially might produce or enact that which society cannot endure, and it does this because, rather than i n spite of, its o w n intricate connections with its o w n social condemnation. In short, the homoerotically perverse encounter of the death/desire dynamic produces a knowledge of desire unavailable elsewhere. M o r e generally, the challenge of desire lies in its potential for acting out an a w k w a r d , provocative, ambivalent version of what otherwise remains culturally and psychically disavowed. A n interesting instance of this is Bersani's description of (some) gay men's relationship to masculinity. Against the 'easy' political line that gay machismo is straightforwardly a parodic subversion of masculinity, Bersani contends that it includes a worshipful tribute to, a 'yearning

t o w a r d ' the

straight machismo style and behaviour it defiles. A n d if, in Jeffrey Weeks's phrase, quoted by Bersani, gay men 'gnaw at the roots of a male heterosexual identity' this is because, ' f r o m within their nearly mad identification w i t h it, they never cease to feel the appeal being violated'

of

its

(p. 209).

Instead of a straightforward identity politics which resists oppression i n the name of what we truly and healthily are or could be, given the social space to breathe, is this other scenario wherein identity is conflicted by desire, fantasy and ambivalent identification; potentially 304

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(and strangely) identity is even annihilated i n the process of being affirmed. A n d nowhere more so than i n getting fucked, when, says Bersani, there occurs the terrifying appeal of a loss of the ego, of a self-abasement. Perhaps Foucault, in his famous essay 'Preface to Transgression', was saying something similar, though in relation to transgression more generally. In transgression of the limit, he says, the limit is suddenly 'fulfilled by this alien plenitude which invades it to the core of its being' (Language, p. 34). What is being explored here is a fundamentally different attitude to loss. N o longer is there a struggle to redeem or transcend it; rather, loss is embraced as dynamic and liberating, the condition of ecstatic renewal.

Foucault

on death

Foucault was influenced by Georges Bataille (above, Chapter 17), and indeed celebrated h i m . A n d , for someone otherwise so reticent about himself, Foucault was strangely open about his o w n fascination with death. In a 1982 interview he declared, hinting at his o w n sense of desire's impossibility: I w o u l d like and I hope I'll die of an overdose [laughter] of pleasure of any k i n d . Because I think it's really difficult and I always have this feeling that I do not feel the pleasure, the complete, total pleasure and, for me, it's related to death . . . the k i n d of pleasure I w o u l d consider as the real pleasure w o u l d be so deep, so intense, so overwhelming that I couldn't survive it. I w o u l d die.

Once, when high on o p i u m , he was hit by a car. A s he lay i n the street, for a few seconds, 'I had the impression that I was dying and it was really a very, very intense pleasure . . . It was, it still is n o w , one of my best memories' ( M i c h e l Foucault,

p. 12).

H a v i n g apparently made one or more suicide attempts when younger, Foucault defended the right to k i l l oneself; in fact he celebrated suicide. N o conduct, he said in 1982, 'is more beautiful or, consequently, more worthy of careful thought than suicide. One should w o r k on one's suicide throughout one's life.' It might be said that all this is only psycho-biography based on a few facetious 305

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interviews. In fact Foucault's concern w i t h the death/desire dynamic, and its connection w i t h the negation of self, recurs through his writing, and i n ways w h i c h are both fascinating and disturbing: ' T h e border is often narrow between a permanent temptation to commit suicide and the birth of a certain f o r m of political consciousness' (J. M i l l e r , p p . 351, 193). Crucially for Foucault, as for some other gay intellectuals, antiessentialism or anti-humanism involved much more than showing that Western concepts of ' m a n ' or of the individual are philosophical errors; when he spoke or wrote of the death of the author, the death of man, the death of humanism, the death of the subject, he really wanted to destroy certain normalizing and oppressive ways of thinking and being. Behind all this is a Utopian ideal of release which is both psychic and social: i n place of so-called ' m a n ' , what must be produced 'is something that absolutely does not exist, about w h i c h we k n o w nothing . . . the creation of something totally different' (J. M i l l e r , p. 3 3 6 ) . Later he came to believe that homosexuality, especially the 6

extreme scenarios of sado-masochism, could provide something like that ideal; i n such scenarios it was possible to 'invent o n e s e l f polymorphously, especially w i t h the help of certain drugs. M o r e generally, his vision for gay culture was that it w o u l d invent new ways of living (Macey, pp. 365, 371, 367). N o t surprisingly, he was against identity politics and gay essentializing; the f o l l o w i n g remark, with which many have since identified, is from 1969: D o not ask w h o I a m , and do not ask me to remain the same: leave it to our bureaucrats and our police to see that our papers are in order. A t least spare us their morality when we write. (Archaeology,

p.

17)

Such self-disidentification also led h i m eventually to renounce the very idea of desire, speaking instead of pleasure. For Foucault desire is a notion already imbued w i t h oppression; to desire is already to be subjectively policed: ' " T e l l me what your desire is and I w i l l tell y o u w h o you are, whether you are normal or not, and then I can qualify or disqualify your desire." ' By contrast, 'there is no pathology of pleasure, no " a b n o r m a l " pleasure. It is an event "outside the subject" or on the edge of the subject' (Macey, p. 365). Foucault seemed to have an almost mystical regard for the potential 306

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of drugs to effect a dissolution of identity. W h e n high o n L S D he reportedly compared the experience w i t h having sex with a stranger: 'Contact w i t h a strange body affords an experience of the truth similar to what I am experiencing n o w ' (J. M i l l e r , p . 251). T o reiterate: for Foucault the disidentification of the self, w h i c h i n turn involved a fascination w i t h death itself, was at once personal, political and historical. T h e experience of all this remains crucial — not experience essentialized, but the experiential dimension of anti-essentialism. It was also an intellectual imperative. In the preface to V o l u m e 2 of The History

of Sexuality

(1984) he said that it was curiosity that motivated

h i m to write. In a passage later read at his funeral by Gilles Deleuze, he went on to say that this is not the curiosity w h i c h seeks confirmation of what one wants to hear, but the k i n d of curiosity w h i c h 'enables one to get free of oneself, the curiosity for a knowledge that leads to 'the knower straying afield of h i m s e l f (p. 8)7 Curiosity finds its way to death - until recently a largely ignored aspect of this philosopher's thought. Foucault (among others) is influential for revealing the complex, paradoxical, unstable nature of binary oppositions i n the socio-cultural sphere - oppositions like madness and sanity; normality and deviation; the natural and the unnatural. A n d yet his interrogation of the life/death binary has until recently been overlooked. Throughout his w o r k there are cryptic, lyrical, paradoxical speculations o n how we live death - h o w , that is, death's changing face organizes our identity, language, sexuality and future - speculations which are sometimes disorientating even as they fascinate and engage. In The Birth of the Clinic he argues that, whereas i n the Renaissance death was the great leveller, i n modern culture (from the nineteenth century) it becomes constitutive

of singularity,

it is i n the perception

of death that the individual finds himself or herself; death gives to life 'a face that cannot be exchanged. Death left its o l d tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret' (pp. 1 7 0 - 7 2 ) . A t the close of The Order 8

of Things

(1966) there occurs

that famous anti-humanist remark to the effect that ' m a n ' is an invention of recent date, soon to be erased, 'like a face drawn i n the sand at the edge of the sea' (p. 387). T h e imagery here may be traditional; but what prepares for it is a consideration of death w h i c h 307

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places Foucault within the modern philosophical tendency to internalize death (above, Parts I V - V ) . Foucault's o w n philosophy, and i n particular his ideas about self-disidentification, derive f r o m an engagement with the philosophical internalization of death. Whereas Lacan w o u l d develop this philosophy psychoanalytically, Foucault attempts it without psychoanalysis. Foucault suggests that if death - 'the Death that is at w o r k i n [man's] suffering' - is the precondition of knowledge, and if desire 'the Desire that has lost its object' - is what remains 'always

unthought

at the heart of thought', then death and desire are already in a paradoxical enabling proximity within us and our culture (p. 376). A few years later he speculates that language itself is structured by this p r o x i m i t y : It is quite likely that the approach of death - its sovereign gesture, its prominence within human memory - hollows out in the present and in existence the void toward which and from which we speak . . . Perhaps there exists in speech an essential affinity between death, endless striving, and the self-representation of language . . . In this sense death is undoubtedly the most essential of the accidents of language (its limits and its centre): from the day that men began to speak toward death and against it, in order to grasp and imprison it, something was born, a murmuring which repeats, recounts, and redoubles itself endlessly, which has undergone an uncanny process of amplification and thickening, in which our language is today lodged and hidden. (Language, pp. 53, 55)

9

N o t surprisingly, many were, and still are, disturbed by Foucault's anti-humanism. H e was uncompromising about its implications, especially here, in the idea of a language animated by death. It is n o w commonplace to characterize anti-humanist thought as that which proposes that we do not speak but are spoken - a way of summarizing a complex philosophical argument which regards identity as not the source but the effect of language. But the idea that we are 'spoken by death' is not commonplace, even though, in saying so, Foucault, like Lacan but without psychoanalysis, is recasting an earlier idea in linguistic terms. In the conclusion of The Archaeology

of

Knowledge

he affects sympathy with humanist aspirations and rehearses them, but only to relish their demise and to reinstate death at the centre of the timid post-Christian attempt to preserve immortality. The 308

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humanist, says Foucault, wants to discern in discourse 'the gentle, silent, intimate consciousness' of its author, and, through that, the 'murmur . . . of insubstantial immortalities'. But what the humanist must realize is that in speaking or writing 'I am not banishing my death, but actually establishing it; or rather . . . I am abolishing all interiority i n that exterior that is so indifferent to my life, and so neutral,

that it

makes no distinction between my life and my death' (p. 210). In later works Foucault wants to show how death is strangely at w o r k i n the power/sexuality dynamic. H i s argument that sex is constitutive of identity has been immensely influential in the last two decades, but there is more to it than is usually recognized: death as well as power constitutes modern sexuality.

10

In an argument which

is still non- and often anti-Freudian, he describes a process whereby modern States administer life through the production and control of sexuality, and i n the process wreak death on an unprecedented scale. This occurs after a fundamental change in the historical operations of State power. Whereas earlier i n Western culture 'the sovereign' ruled through the limited threat of death; n o w , situated and exercised 'at the level of life, the species, the race, and the large-scale phenomena of population', power perpetuates w o r l d wars on an unprecedented scale, holocausts and massacres (History, 1.137). This control of life works crucially through the constitution of sex and sexuality. Sex is an ideological illusion and a lived reality. A t the juncture of the 'body' and the 'population', sex became a crucial target of a power organized around the management of life rather than the menace of death (p. 147): Sex — that agency w h i c h appears to dominate us and that secret w h i c h seems to underlie all that we are, that point w h i c h enthralls us through the power it manifests and the meaning it conceals, and w h i c h we ask to reveal what we are and to free us f r o m what defines us - is doubtless but an ideal point made necessary by the deployment of sexuality and its operation.

The result is that now 'it is through sex . . . that each individual has to pass in order to have access to his o w n intelligibility'; sex has become more important than our soul; it is the secret of the self, minuscule in each of us, yet of a density that makes it inexhaustibly and ultimately sacrificially significant: 309

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The Faustian pact, whose temptation has been instilled in us by the deployment of sexuality, is now as follows: to exchange life in its entirety for sex itself, for the truth and sovereignty of sex. Sex is worth dying for. It is in this (strictly historical) sense that sex is indeed imbued with the death instinct. When a long while ago the West discovered love, it bestowed on it a value high enough to make death acceptable; nowadays it is sex that claims this equivalence. (History,

1.155-6; my emphasis)

Against psychoanalysis Foucault tries to identify the historical ground not only of the death drive, but also of desire's impossibility, which n o w , at least partly, derives f r o m the fact that 'we expect our intelligibility to come f r o m what was for many centuries thought of as a madness [i.e. sex]' (History,

1.156). But if the death drive is i n 11

this sense an effect of power w o r k i n g through sexuality, death (like desire) thereby also has the potential to elude power, even through suicide: Death is power's limit, the moment that escapes it; death becomes the most secret aspect of existence, the most 'private'. (1.138)

Foucault

cruising

'Sex is w o r t h dying for': this is the belief that those like James M i l l e r attribute to the Foucault w h o cruised the bathhouses of San Francisco in the early 1980s. T h e rumour that Foucault deliberately tried to infect others is discounted by M i l l e r ; although circulating for almost a decade, he finds no evidence for it. It is true that Foucault was deeply sceptical about A I D S , but so were many others i n 1982—3, and, at the time, with some reason; certainly they were right to discredit the idea of a 'gay cancer', as it was then called. A s D . A . M i l l e r says, 'it wasn't as if people didn't k n o w about A I D S , but everyone was unwilling to believe it w o u l d attack y o u because y o u were gay' (J. M i l l e r , p. 349). But Foucault d i d , apparently, say to D . A . M i l l e r , ' T o die for the love of boys: W h a t could be more beautiful?' Such remarks lead James M i l l e r to conclude that the crux of what is most original and challenging about Foucault's way of t h i n k i n g . . . is his unrelenting, deeply ambiguous and profoundly problematic 310

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preoccupation with death, which he explored not only in . . . his writing, but also, and I believe critically, in . . . sado-masochistic eroticism, (p. 7) The anonymous sexual encounter, perhaps also in an S and M context, continues M i l l e r , offered the prospect of being liberated into something different—a 'limit experience'. A I D S became another limit experience, and now a fatal one, leading Foucault into potentially suicidal acts of passion with consenting partners, most of them likely to be infected already; deliberately throwing caution to the wind, Foucault and these men were wagering their lives together . . . (p. 381) T o act out self-annihilating fantasies sexually is hardly u n k n o w n . But, in speculating that Foucault actualized such fantasies in lifethreatening ways, those like M i l l e r reproduce a tendentious conflation between death, A I D S , promiscuity and sado-masochism which some at least of their audience have been waiting to hear. Ironically, what Foucault had to say on death was largely ignored until it could be revisited as 'evidence' for this supposed erotic, suicidal and/or murderous obsession with the subject. Perhaps what compels this 'biographical' quest are ideas of the anti-humanist Foucault - he w h o had dared to declare the death of the author, of the human subject, of man and of humanism - fucking others to death, or, better still, being fucked to death himself.

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21 The Wonder of the Pleasure

'Sexual practices', R o l a n d Barthes once wrote, 'are banal, impoverished, doomed to repetition, and [in] this . . . disproportionate to the wonder of the pleasure they afford.' Barthes wrote this in a preface to Renaud Camus's Tricks

(p. viii), a narrative of twenty-five 'pro-

miscuous' homosexual encounters graphic enough to have merited the charge of obscenity. H i s remark alludes to the idea of desire's impossibility: these practices are banal, impoverished, doomed to repetition. For many of the writers explored so far this w o u l d support the idea of desire as a futile, frenzied and compulsive quest for an impossible gratification. A n d yet, insists Barthes, sexual acts are also the source of pleasure. But in putting it like that I have already misrepresented him and missed precisely what is significant: if Barthes invokes the impossibility of desire in order to circumvent it, he does so not by simply acknowledging the pleasure of sex; rather, he speaks of the wonder

of this pleasure. I end this book with that wonder

and a kind of love which is its inspiration - fetishistic, voyeuristic, onanistic, aroused not just by the desire for another but also by the desire of another — another's narcissism. Also I want to consider its importance for a certain homosexual aesthetic which registers a vulnerable insight into how this most fragile and elusive of experience negotiates loss. Hegel once described wonder as prompted by the contradiction between the w o r l d and the spirit. It is, he says, 'a contradiction in which objects prove themselves to be just as attractive as repulsive, and the sense of this contradiction along with the urge to remove it is precisely what generates wonder'. H e continues:

312

THE

W O N D E R

OF T H E

PLEASURE

T h e man w h o does not yet wonder at anything still lives in obtuseness and stupidity . . .

o n the other hand whoever wonders no longer regards the

whole of the external w o r l d as something w h i c h he has become clear about, whether in the abstract intellectual mode of a universally h u m a n Enlightenment, or in the noble and deeper consciousness of absolute spiritual freedom and universality. (Aesthetics, 1.315)

Hegel wants to transcend wonderment and thereby be free of that strange m i x of uncertainty and insight, vulnerability and awe, humility and arousal, which inspires it. W h i l e acknowledging wonder as a preliminary stage of true knowledge, he wants to dissolve it in favour of universal enlightenment or, even better, the deeper consciousness of absolute spirit. O n l y then can we be free of the contradictions of desire (attraction and repulsion). It is at points like this that one wonders if Hegel's entire philosophical edifice is any more than an arid, rationalist rewriting of the desire for eternity: an absolute freedom bought at the price of a metaphysical nullification of everything that moves. T o pit the fragile reed of wonderment against the massive rationalist edifice of the Hegelian system seems ridiculous if not absurd, especially in relation to the promiscuous sexual encounter; it seems like a rather disastrous example of what philosophers call a 'category mistake'. A n d yet this is what I propose. A n d if this is partly about reclaiming the tradition of carpe diem it is more importantly a wish to consider wonderment itself as a f o r m of meditation or erotic attention which redeems loss. T h i s is the first stanza of W . H . Auden's popular poem 'Lullaby': L a y your sleeping head, my love, H u m a n on my faithless arm; T i m e and fever burn away Individual beauty f r o m T h o u g h t f u l children, and the grave Proves the child ephemeral: But in my arms till break of day Let the living creature lie, M o r t a l , guilty, but to me T h e entirely beautiful.

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Is this poem, as the title suggests, addressed by an adult to a child, or rather to the youthful partner in a fleeting (homoerotic) casual encounter (trick)? The rest of the poem suggests it is probably the latter, and an occasion for the wonder of which Barthes speaks and which is here pervaded by mutability. Mutability is the precondition not only of beauty, but of the perfection of beauty, that

'entirely'

being predicated on a loss which mutability w i l l also guarantee. A n d , even as it deprives it of its object, mutability animates desire into a 'faithless', imitative impermanence. Auden's 'faithless a r m ' warrants comparison with Barthes's 'faithless benevolence' in this, the latter's memorable description of the trick, the wonder of its pleasure: Trick - the encounter which takes place only once: more than cruising, less than love: an intensity, which passes without regret. Consequently, for

me,

Trick becomes the metaphor for many adventures which are not sexual; the encounter of a glance, a gaze, an idea, an image, ephemeral and forceful association, which consents to dissolve so lightly, a faithless benevolence: a way of not getting stuck in desire, though without evading it; all in all, a kind of w i s d o m . (Tricks,

p. x)

The sense of the trick as described by Barthes is obviously different from the self-destructive promiscuity described by Oscar M o o r e , or John Rechy's revolutionary fuck, or M i c h a e l Rumaker's benignly redemptive one, or even Leo Bersani's perspective of desire as selfshattering. ' A way of not getting stuck in desire' - far from being an expression of desire's impossibility, the trick here becomes a way of negotiating it.

Mixing

memory

and

desire

One night in Australia, while wandering through the house of a stranger - it was too hot to sleep, and I was too enamoured to leave - 1 found a copy of E . M . Forster's collection of essays Two Cheers for Democracy.

The title-page of the book had a decades-old inscription to

its owner from a lover, and also a recent second-hand price. H a d the owner discarded the book in a clear-out? O r had he died and someone else cleared it out? W h y did I pause to wonder about that? Perhaps 314

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only because it was that time of night when concentration seems to come f r o m the stillness of the small hours, rather than f r o m any conscious effort; perhaps too because there is no trace of mutability more quietly telling: the loving inscription and the second-hand price together, o n the one page. In this book Forster writes about the poet C . P. Cavafy. H e says that, for Cavafy, the casual homosexual encounter involves the power to snatch sensation, to t r i u m p h over the moment even if remorse ensues. Perhaps that physical snatching is courage; it is certainly the seed of exquisite memories and it is possibly the foundations of art.

H e adds that such casual sexual encounters 'create the future' (p. 247). T h a t is a remarkable claim, but one which Cavafy precisely confirms in a poem called 'Understanding': In the loose living of my early years T h e impulses of my poetry were shaped T h e boundaries of my art were plotted.

1

In another poem he recalls having sex urgently, furtively, i n a public place: Delight of flesh between half-opened clothes; quick baring of flesh - a vision that has crossed twenty-six years and n o w comes to rest in this poetry. ('Comes to Rest')

A n d after another 'illicit' sexual encounter: But what profit for the life of the artist: t o m o r r o w , the day after, or years later, he'll give voice to the strong lines that h a d their beginning here. ('Their Beginning')

Sexual transgression is not only the occasion of creativity, and the stimulus for it; there is a profound affinity between them - not least because both violate conformity. A s with the expression of deviant desire, 'to grow i n spirit' requires that we 'violate / both l a w and 315

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custom, and go beyond / the established, inadequate n o r m ' ('Growing in Spirit'). For Cavafy, creativity derives f r o m a twofold courage: of acting out illicit desires in the transient encounter, and of refusing the lure of the conventional - 'routine love affairs' ('To Sensual Pleasure').

2

In the transient encounter the beauty of the stranger or the intensity of the pleasure may be heightened by the 'inappropriateness' of the surroundings - a shop, a cafe, a ' r o o m . . . cheap and sordid' ('One N i g h t ' ) . One poem, dating f r o m September 1907, beautifully indicates h o w , for Cavafy, homosexual desire is illicit in a way w h i c h is both naive and k n o w i n g . T w o young men meet on the street: T h e i r looks met by chance and timidly, haltingly expressed the illicit desire of their bodies. T h e n a few uneasy steps along the street until they smiled, and n o d d e d slightly. ('The W i n d o w of the T o b a c c o Shop')

Something else about this poem: it suggests h o w the casual anonymous encounter is contained by, yet internally distanced f r o m , its o w n moment and context; how such meetings have always been at the heart of ordinary society yet have been largely invisible to it. Thus its first lines: 'They stood among many others / close to a lighted tobacco shop w i n d o w . ' The celebration of illicit desire as the impetus for art does not make that desire secure or safe; on the contrary. A n d while the poet does not experience homoerotic desire as shameful, nor does he want to naturalize it or even regard it as normal; its intensity and sensuality in part derive f r o m its being shameless and audacious, and even f r o m its fatality ('Chandelier', 'Dangerous Thoughts', 'In the Street', ' H e Swears'). The creative potential of homoerotic desire derives too f r o m the fact that such desire is fetishistic and perverse. So, to love beauty might also be to love beauty wounded; the poet dresses a youth's wounded shoulder: 'and I liked l o o k i n g at the blood. / It was a thing of my love, that b l o o d . ' After the wounded youth leaves, the poet fetishizes the old dressing, 'the blood of love against my lips' ('The Bandaged Shoulder'). 316

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'Things Ended' speaks of how we strive desperately to avoid anticipated dangers - 'the obvious danger that threatens us so terribly' only to then be swept away by an unimagined, unexpected disaster. T o know that this is so is an inducement to have the courage of desire, and abandon the deluded struggles for security in everyday life. N o r does the celebration of illicit desire defend from mutability; if there is occasionally a retirement f r o m the pain of mutability into the security of f o r m , that is only because, for the most part, Cavafy's erotic aesthetic makes h i m more, not less, vulnerable to the devastating interactions of time, loss and mutability. M e m o r y mixed with desire is never safe: n o w it affirms, vindicates, relives the moments of intensity w h i c h have given meaning to the poet's life; n o w it haunts and wounds by intensifying loss, transience and mutability.

Cruising

and

memory

Sometimes Cavafy writes of memory as erotically gratifying; the recollection of a lover, and of the room in w h i c h they made love, is so vivid 'that now as I write, after so many years, / i n my lonely house, I'm drunk w i t h passion again' ('One N i g h t ' ) . Wandering through a neighbourhood, the recollection of making love there renders the whole place suddenly beautiful - 'my whole being radiated / the sensual pleasure stored up inside me' ('Outside the House'). A n d memory even has the power to circumvent time, avoid loss, as in ' G r e y ' . T o recall a past encounter is to relive transience with the resonance of what it is to be alive; the encounter becomes the concrete universal of life - its specific instance and its symbol. In ' O n the Stairs' it's as if life itself depends on the chance encounter, and on the seizing of the opportunity it offers. But this is also a poem about regret for something w h i c h never happened, the lost opportunity. T w o people meet on the stairs of a brothel, and in the instant they exchange glances each knows the other can give what can't be found in that place. 'But we both h i d ourselves, flustered.' Illicit love is difficult enough to find, and, even when found, may be refused for the same social reasons that made it difficult to find in the first place. Against all that, memory of the casual sexual encounter may also 317

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entail an acute sense of mutability and loss. In some poems the briefness of the encounter is recognized to hold what is best about it; but at the same time one remains for ever beholden to that moment in a way which intensifies later loneliness ('In the Evening', 'Before T i m e Altered Them'). A n o l d letter echoes a wonderful sensuality soon over and long ago, but 'read over and over till the light faded' brings only sadness ('In the Evening'). Cavafy's poems are pervaded by loss - most immediately in terms of the death of lovers, more generally by the loss of beauty. 'Candles' confesses to the sadness, even the terror, induced by a contemplation of time passing; the past is a k i n d of death measured by burnt-out candles. A n d then there is the misery of ageing (in the mouth of a poet in A D 595): T h e ageing of my body and my beauty Is a w o u n d f r o m a merciless knife. I'm not resigned to it at all.

Bring your drugs, A r t of Poetry they d o relieve the pain at least for a while. ('Melancholy . . .')

Here poetry alleviates the distress, and in another poem of the same period poetry compensates for the incompleteness, even the inadequacy, of desire itself: I've brought to A r t desires and sensations: things half-glimpsed, faces or lines, certain indistinct memories of unfulfilled love affairs. Let me submit to A r t : A r t k n o w s how to shape forms of Beauty, almost imperceptibly completing life, blending impressions, blending day with day. ('I've Brought to

Art')

But aesthetic recompense only goes so far; the risk of desire is always there, and never more so than in the experience of loss. 'In Despair' describes one whose lover has left h i m , and w h o desperately ' T h r o u g h fantasy, through hallucination' seeks in the arms of others 318

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to re-experience the lost lover again. Hauntingly it remembers the vulnerability of love, and the limits of fantasy. The risk of desire is also inside memory, which can turn against the poet, n o w haunting rather than consoling. In one poem loss is prefigured, and then, years later, recalled, in the stillness of the afternoon sun: Beside the w i n d o w the bed; the afternoon sun used to touch half of it. . . . O n e afternoon at four o'clock we separated for a week only . . . A n d then that week became forever. ('The A f t e r n o o n Sun')

The stillness of the sun in the then-present is evoked as an almostalready-past, but i n a way which still differentiates it from the past. In the now-present the stillness invokes a time-scale in which the past, the then-present and the here and n o w are all equally on the edge of o b l i v i o n , 'like distant music fading away at night', as he puts it i n 'Voices'. It is the very transience of the joyful encounter which returns to haunt; although immediately welcome, and the very condition of the desire that is being affirmed, in memory the transient dimension of the encounter intensifies loss, rather than compensates for it: I never f o u n d them again - all lost so quickly . . . the poetic eyes, the pale face . . . in the darkening street. . . I didn't find them any more - mine entirely by chance, and so easily given up, then longed for so

painfully. ('Days of 1903')

A n d then there is loss in the sense of something not done; ' A n O l d M a n ' describes one w h o ' i n the miserable banality of o l d age' bitterly regrets 'impulses bridled, the joy / he sacrificed'. Loss shades into remorse, even guilt; the finality of death makes a retrospective demand

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for a completeness i n the casual encounter which was impossible in the living circumstance. M e m o r y haunts not only, not even mainly, because the loss is deeply narcissistic; indeed these are poems which show h o w inadequate are the commonplace assumptions about narcissism. In 'Since N i n e o ' C l o c k ' the recollection of the poet's o w n young body reminds not only of 'daring passion' but of streets now unrecognizable, bustling night clubs now closed, theatres and cafes no longer there. family grief, separations, the feelings of my own people, of the dead so little recognized. T i m e gradually but ineluctably erases even the memories upon which creativity depends - as with the poem about the craftsman w h o begs memory to help h i m recreate in art the face of the young man w h o m he loved, w h o died as a soldier fifteen years before ('Craftsman of W i n e Bowls'). Here the inspiration of memory seems viable, but only just; the craftsman is on the memory-edge of what it is possible to recall and hence create. N o t only beauty and desire, but their memory and the redemptive creativity memory enables (by re-creating lost desire and beauty in verse) are subject to loss. Sometimes memory can only be the memory of loss, and of the impending loss of memory itself. A l l this means that Cavafy's verse is steeped in mutability. A n d there are places where mutability seems almost internalized as the impossibility of desire — when, for example, intensity is found in the moment of decline. Sensual pleasure achieved 'morbidly, corruptingly, creates / an erotic intensity which health cannot k n o w ' , but such pleasure 'rarely finds the body able to feel what it requires' ('Imenos'). ' T o m b of Iasis' suggests more directly the impossibility of desire - 'excess wore me out, killed me'. Here and i n other poems desire is self-destructive, a 'sickness' that consumes ('A Y o u n g Poet in his Twenty-Fourth Year'). One poem describes h o w a casual encounter has left one youth obsessed with another and repeatedly searching for h i m in the place of their 320

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first encounter, 'sick with longing' and 'endless desire'. Inevitably desire is reckless: . . . he tries not to give himself away. But sometimes he almost doesn't care. Besides, he knows what he's exposing himself to, he's come to accept it: quite possibly this life of his will land him in a devastating scandal. (The Twenty-Fifth Year of His Life') A n d yet the impossibility of desire - desire as death - never becomes the dominant theme in Cavafy, which means that desire is never conceptualized as impossible. This has much to do w i t h the ways in w h i c h creativity and transgression converge with wonderment.

Wonder Erotic wonderment could never be unique to gay writing, but it finds powerful expression in it. Psychoanalysts sometimes tell us that we desire desire (we desire to be desired, or desire the desire of another); in such situations (they say) the desire to possess, even to annihilate, the other is often urgent, impossible, contradictory. Poets, on the other hand, sometimes tell us that the desire of another becomes the object of an erotic attention whose aim is very different and not necessarily one of possession. Cavafy writes memorably about this. Youths i n his poems are rarely only objects of desire; the youth expressing narcissistic desire is also the urgent agent of desire and, as such, a very different k i n d of object - that's to say, an object of aesthetic, erotic attention. Hence Cavafy's poem about the young man w h o intends to read ('He's completely devoted to books'), but succumbs instead to onanistic desire ('He H a d Planned T o Read'). In another poem a frustrated youth'goes to b e d . . . full of sexual longing': 'all his youth on fire with the body's passion / his lovely youth given over to a fine intensity' ('In the Boring Village'). Here, the boy's o w n sexual longing is itself first an object of beauty before it is an object of desire. Masturbatory fantasy mediates between the t w o , and yearning obviously confuses that distinction. Nevertheless, here in Cavafy is a 321

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voyeuristic aesthetic, a desiring gaze which includes wonderment. When 'a simple boy' is 'overcome / by forbidden erotic ecstasy' he 'becomes something worth our looking at, for a moment / he too passes through the exalted W o r l d of Poetry' ('Passing Through'). Likewise with a passage from Rumaker's A Day and a Night at the Baths, in which male sexual narcissism, and the adoring voyeuristic gaze it elicits, are deemed if not entirely innocent then certainly the occasion of the wonderment that innocence evokes. A youth massages himself erect while others watch. The youth is unselfconscious and unembarrassed, and for the narrator there is no craving to possess. While the youth 'looked around him with a level clearness but at nothing or anyone in particular', the narrator 'watched, not furtive, likewise unembarrassed in my looking, content only to watch' and appreciative of h o w the boy's eyes, 'with their absorbed smile of serious pleasure and play, held the hint of an inward secret of barely contained happiness' (pp. 1 6 - 1 7 ) . Here, as in Cavafy, masturbation is the focus. Obviously important as the activity of the young men who are Cavafy's subject, it also belongs to the poet's creative gaze in which memory becomes a state of onanistic arousal melting past and present together: 'In deep reverie, / all receptiveness . . . / . . . I'll form visions' ('To C a l l U p the Shades'). A t the same time there is something scandalously anti-humanist about this desire, which hardly at all depends on the so-called real person behind the mortal beauty but expresses itself rather as an 'over-riding devotion / to perfectly shaped, corruptible white limbs', incompatible with cultural, ethical and religious sublimation ('Of the Jews ( A . D . 50)'). Beauty is anonymous, and the person irrelevant in a certain precise and sensitive way. The poet sees and mentally undresses a twenty-two-year-old, certain that 'about that long ago / I enjoyed the very same body'

('The

N e x t Table'): beauty as generational resemblance is unsocialized, homoerotically disconnected from its most respectable location, the family. Cavafy suggests how a desire which is fetishistic, voyeuristic, onanistic both is and is not blind, is and is not obliterative of the other. W i t h that twenty-two-year-old the poet is sensitive to the detail of physical beauty, recognizing not just his f o r m , but 'every motion he makes'. The beauty w h i c h takes one's breath away is often in the 322

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indefinable detail; a question, then, not just of perfectly shaped limbs (though definitely that too) but of the 'particular impression on the b r o w , the eyes, the lips' ('At the Cafe Door') - what elsewhere Cavafy calls, perfectly, 'the beauty of anomalous charm' ('In an O l d Book'). A n d the desire can be for the awkwardness of the inexperienced youth, his beauty expressed by the same ('Days of 1901'). T o love in this way is to fully k n o w for the first time the contingency of the beloved's being, even in the moment of exalting and adoring h i m . There is a facile k i n d of literary humanism w h i c h , for all its obsession w i t h interiority and its talk of wanting to commune w i t h , or express, the authentic self, reproduces a mundane and conformist notion of individuality. In Cavafy, by contrast, it's the anonymous, elusive gesture or expression which most captures cultural difference and individual uniqueness. Related to this is the way he is aware of how beauty and ecstasy are strangely dependent upon their mundane circumstances; the titles of many poems signify exactly that mundaneness - 'In the Street', 'The Afternoon Sun', 'The W i n d o w of the Tobacco Shop'. M a n y of the poems are about experiences or events w h i c h are precisely inconsequential; they do not resonate with a symbolic or allegorical significance beyond themselves. These poems have the courage of their o w n transience; their only life is prior to allegory and symbol; it is as if the written record can register the full intensity of desire only by avoiding allegory and symbol. They endure as representations because of a poignant ordinariness, an arbitrary familiarity recognizable (at least) to those w h o have noticed. M u t a b i l i t y destroys everything. It is impossible to be reconciled to it. So to desire is necessarily to suffer. T o be there in 'the darkening street', racked with this vagrant desire, may well be about risking danger, even death; certainly it is about desire at its most intense, overwhelming in a way which blinds us to its contingency and brevity, and, just because of that, also the source of creative and sustaining memory. So, for Cavafy, desire is always about risk. O n l y thus can 3

it carry the potential to bring us back to life, metaphorically and perhaps literally. The memory of such moments, even when it is vulnerably on the edge of its o w n oblivion, can momentarily slip free of loss:

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I'd like to speak of this memory, but it's so faded now - as though nothing's left because it was so long ago, in my adolescent years. A skin as though of jasmine . . . that August evening - was it August? I can still just recall the eyes: blue, I think they were . . . Ah yes, blue: a sapphire blue. ('Long Ago') There is one last reason why desire does not become impossible for Cavafy - one related, albeit strangely, to these qualities of wonderment, erotic attentiveness and onanistic passivity: I'm thinking of his o w n self-effacement, a reticence devoid of shame and strangely prophetic: From my most unnoticed actions, my most veiled writing from these alone will I be understood. But maybe it isn't worth so much concern, so much effort to discover who I really am. Later, in a more perfect society, someone else made just like me is certain to appear and act freely. ('Hidden Things', 1908)

The erotics of

self-disidentification

If in homoerotic writing we find insightful contemporary explorations of the Western preoccupation with the convergence of desire and death, we also find a compelling alternative to it. Barthes speaks of a certain k i n d of promiscuity, the trick, as a way of not getting stuck in desire; also of the trick as a k i n d of wisdom. W i s d o m , the first great sacrifice to desire in the Western tradition (and certainly that which is said to be thrown to the w i n d in cruising), is rediscovered within the ephemeral, desiring encounter. But Barthes also makes the trick a metaphor for the eroticizing of non-sexual cultural practices, 324

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as in his o w n cultural and literary theory, wherein draguer-

to cruise,

seduce, loiter, f o l l o w , to engage with anonymously/publicly-becomes central not only for a homoerotic aesthetic, but, more generally, for the urban, modernist, literary aesthetic to which Barthes contributed so significantly. A g a i n , self-disidentification is crucial at all levels: the erotic, the aesthetic and the social. In relation to Stendhal he speaks of the 'amorous p l u r a l ' , a pleasure 'analogous to that enjoyed today by someone " c r u i s i n g " ', and involving an 'irregular

discontinuity

...

simultaneously aesthetic, psychological, and metaphysical'; a plural passion w h i c h 'necessitates leaping f r o m one object to another, as chance presents them, without experiencing the slightest sentiment of guilt w i t h regard to the disorder such a procedure involves' (The Rustle

of Language,

pp. 2 9 8 - 9 ) .

For Barthes, as for homosexuals before h i m — W i l d e pre-eminently - the casual sexual encounter has the potential for not so much a discovery of his true self as a liberation from self, from a self-oppressive identity - especially the subordinated identity: What society will not tolerate is that. . . the something I am should be openly expressed as provisional . . . insignificant, inessential, in a word irrelevant. Just say 'I am' and you will be socially saved, (pp. 291-2) Anti-essentialism as a merely theoretical statement about identity is misleading to the point of being useless. A s I remarked before i n relation to Foucault, what needs to be recovered is the experiential dimension of anti-essentialism. A n d that is found most significantly in homoerotic writing. Certainly for Barthes anti-essentialism was felt experientially; again, i n this he followed W i l d e : i n the latter's transgressive aesthetic a marginal decentred sexuality informs a deviant sensibility w h i c h is translated into a philosophy of subjectivity wherein the self is disidentified and wherein prescriptive, essentialist sexual norms are provoked into disarray.

4

There have been some w h o regard Barthes's version of this as just a precious Parisian aesthetic w i t h nothing much to say to hard-core sexual politicians. But what we learn f r o m Barthes (as f r o m Foucault and W i l d e , albeit differently i n each case) is that oppression inheres in those subjected to it as their or our identity, and must eventually be experienced and contested there, and never more so than 325

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Identity for the homosexual is always

conflicted: at once ascribed, proscribed and internalized, it is i n terms of identity that self-hatred, violence, mutilation and death have been suffered. Conversely, identity is also that in the name of w h i c h liberation is fiercely fought for. N o t surprisingly, then, this self-realization has always been strangely bound up with a defiant refusal of self. Historically and aesthetically, the promiscuous encounter focuses this, enacting the possibility of a simultaneous identification and d/sidentification, w h i c h , together, may then involve a ^identification — ceasing to be the fixed, tyrannized subject and becoming. . . becoming what, exactly? One hesitates here only because what one becomes is never secure, never as certain as is promised by the euphoria of self-discovery or the securities of identity politics. For sure, one becomes something other, yet, equally surely, never the abstract freefloating subject of the post-modern; and this is because what remains in place is always at risk: psychically, socially, sexually, legally and in other ways, and probably all at once, inseparably. T o be socially dislocated means that one can never be entirely unselfconscious, least of all when cruising. But, still, desire enables a self-realization w h i c h is also a defiant refusal of self. Still, n o w : as a gay poet wrote i n 1991 about the anonymous encounter, Y o u were the emptiness I sought, T h e escape f r o m thought.

T h e r e was truth &c trust wrapped in the swift embrace O f strangers who could vanish without trace; T h e i r light c o u l d only pass T h r o u g h clear glass. (Alan Brayne, ' O u r Shadows')

For this poet, 'truth & trust' derive not from a fullness of subjective being, not f r o m the authentic encounter between self and other, nor even f r o m the completion of the T in another, but f r o m the other as 'the emptiness I sought, / The escape f r o m thought', and f r o m strangers w h o can vanish 'without trace'. The w o r d 'strangers' equalizes the you and I: fantasy and identification circulate because of anonymity. Once, while taking drugs, Foucault said, 'Contact with a strange 326

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of the truth similar to what I am experien-

cing n o w ' (above, p. 307). ' A n experience of the truth': what might such a philosophically reckless remark, uttered by one sceptical of both 'experience' and 'truth', mean in this context? Perhaps that, in the anonymous yet intensely subjective encounter with the absolute uniqueness of the 'anybody', the divide between reality and fantasy momentarily shifts and even dissolves, as do other divisions too, including those between public and private, self and other. A n d yet this is an encounter which presupposes, which occurs only because of, these divisions, even as it momentarily suspends them, in fantasy and actually - in short, an encounter i n which desire is experienced as at once an effect and a refusal of history, a moment of intensity so marked by its history yet at the same time internally distanced f r o m it. A n d inside this encounter is the longer history we have explored whereby the Western struggle for individual self-realization necessitates a negation of self. But self-disidentification, even as it can become the ground of freedom, also makes us more vulnerable than ever to those apprehensions of loss endemic to our culture and which can render the experience of desire as also an experience of grieving.

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Notes

Introduction I Death or at least decay is there from the start. Anonymous old men encountered in public toilets are like 'insects crawling out from behind the stained tiles . . . limed with the damp stench of the soggy bogroll world' (p. 44). What is seemingly most disturbing about these old men is not so much their decaying bodies but the fact that, in this decayed state and so close to death, they still desire. Almost literally embodying desire as death, they bear silent witness to this dreadful proximity, and in the same moment also bear witness to the intolerable desirability of the young. One old man, allowed to watch H u g o fuck another young man, 'winked and gasped, watched as his dick dribbled white spots onto the carpet and, rubbing them in with his slipper, left the r o o m ' (p. 45). Repelled by these old men, H u g o nevertheless cannot or does not avoid them. Sometimes he performs before them: 'straining for the relief of an orgasm which, when it came, was only a spasm without the shudder, an anti-climax that offered no feeling of relief. Just a small grey wave of depression' (p. 39). 2 O r Cyril Collard's autobiographical novel, Savage Nights, which became the basis of a controversial film of the same name with Collard as lead and director. 3 Compare, from a decade earlier, Andrew Holleran's Dancer From the Dance: '. . . five feet away from the corpse, people lay taking the sun and admiring a man who had just given the kiss of life to a young boy. Death and desire, death and desire' (pp. 30-31). 4 See D a v i d M . Halperin, Saint Foucault, esp. pp. 126-85. 5 M o o r e also wrote a widely admired column in the Guardian

newspaper on

living with A I D S . These pieces have been collected in PWA: Looking

AIDS in

the Face. 6 Ellis H a n s o n reminds us that this association is not new: notions of death have been at the heart of nearly every historical construction of same-sex desire. Recently, in the media, people living with AIDS have been made vampire-like, 'the dead who dare to speak and sin and walk abroad, the undead with A I D S ' (Fuss, Inside/Out, pp. 3 2 4 - 5). In another article in the same book, Jeff N u n o k a w a shows that this connection between homosexuality and death is not just something

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done to gay culture by a homophobic dominant culture; within gay culture too, homosexuality has been regarded fatalistically, morbidly, and as somehow doomed of its very nature. N u n o k a w a identifies texts as different as Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, Randy Shilts's And the Band Played On and James Merrill's The Inner Room as inclined to 'cultivate the confusion of gay identity with a death-driven narrative', and representing 'doom as the specific fate of gay men' (p. 317). 7 In an important essay of 1930, Thomas M a n n realized that to comprehend the paradoxical interanimation of love and death one has first to get beyond its commonplace representations - 'piquant, half-playful, half-macabre . . . externally and sentimentally romantic', especially facile in the mouths of 'wits and romantics' (Essays, p. 261). 8 Writing perceptively of modernist philosophy, Simon Critchley argues that, because finitude always remains beyond our grasp, we will never be able to comprehend death in a way which renders it life-enabling and life-affirming. T h e ultimate meaning of human finitude is precisely that we cannot find meaningful fulfilment within it (Very Little . . . Almost Nothing,

esp. pp. 2 4 - 7 ) .

9 Compare Shakespeare's Antony, who, hearing that his wife is dead, reflects on the vicissitudes of desire: T h u s d i d I desire it: W h a t our contempts doth often hurl from us, W e wish it ours again. T h e present pleasure, By revolution l o w ' r i n g , does become T h e opposite o f itself: she's g o o d , being gone; T h e hand could pluck her back that shoved her o n .

(Antony and Cleopatra, I.ii.115-20) 10 Unless indicated to the contrary, all italics in quotations are those of the original source. 11 Paglia takes the view of Sade rather than Rousseau, Hobbes rather than Locke, Nietzsche and Freud rather than M a r x (p. 2). Which means she is sceptical of ameliorative politics, progressivism and emancipation movements - especially feminism. 12 It has also recently been argued that the major ideas behind Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness c a m e from Beauvoir; see Kate and Edward Fullbrook, Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre, esp. p. 3. 13 But such representations are always misrepresentations, inasmuch as 'they repress what they purport to reveal and they articulate what they hope to conceal'. Femininity and death point to a reality or an excess which is beyond, yet disruptive of, all systems of language (Bronfen, pp. x i - x i i ) . So potentially dangerous is this disruption that the conjoining of femininity and death in representation is already a reaffirmation of the stability which they threaten. However, this is an unstable containment; in particular, it harbours and even intensifies a fascination with

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3-I4

precisely what has been repressed. It is also violently voyeuristic, in the sense that all representations of dying are voyeuristic (by virtue of implying the safe position of the spectator), and fetishistic, in that it separates the body from its real materiality and its historical context.

Chapter

I

I Compare the following, from centuries later: F o r mortals, mortal things. A n d all things leave us. O r if they d o not, then we leave them. (Lucian, c. A D 1 1 5 - 8 0 ; i n J a y , p. 279) Everything's laughter everything dust everything nothing. ( G l y k o n , i n J a y , p. 319)

2 Unless otherwise stated, the translations are from the edition by Charles H . Kahn. 3 K a h n (pp. 288-9) questions the authenticity of this fragment. 4 M o d e r n commentators go to great lengths to harmonize Heraclitus' thought with our o w n ; some fragments get pages of commentary to this end. But it is salutary to recall again that we come up against beliefs which are not only paradoxical but irreducibly alien: in fragment xlvii he declares that the sun is the size of a human foot, and in xlviiia that it is relit every day. W e also encounter a strange (and disputed) way of dying: according to Diogenes Laertius, when Heraclitus was dying he buried himself in manure and was devoured by dogs (Heraclitus, pp. 5 - 6 ) . 5 C f . Marcuse, ' T h e Ideology of Death', pp. 6 7 - 8 , and below, Chapter 15. 6 See Jennifer Wallace, 'Shelley, Plato and the Political Imagination'. 7 Shelley used a free translation of the following epigram, sometimes attributed to Plato, as the epigraph for Adonais: Y o u were the m o r n i n g star a m o n g the living: But n o w in death your evening lights the dead.

(Aster, in Jay, p. 45) 8 These three themes — violence, exhaustion/expenditure and death — can be found in other times, places and creeds; Foucault also remarks, via the work of R. V a n G u l i k , their presence in ancient Chinese culture (History, II. 137). Even if Foucault's discussion of this aspect of Greek experience adds little that is new, his devoting of a chapter to the topic is significant of the renewed interest in this aspect of Greek culture. 9 Anne Carson puts it like this:

331

NOTES

TO PAGES

16-25

Eros is an experience that assaults the lover from without and proceeds to take control of his body, his mind, and the quality of his life . . . to enfeeble his mind and distort its thinking, to replace normal conditions of health and sanity with disease and madness . . . [Eros's] action is to melt, break down, bite into, burn, devour, wear away, whirl around, sting, pierce, wound, poison, suffocate, drag off or grind the lover to a powder . . . No one can fight Eros off . . . Very few see him coming. He lights on you from somewhere outside yourself and, as soon as he does, you are taken over, changed radically. You cannot resist the change or control it or come to terms with it. (p. 148; cf. pp. 3-9. See also Winkler, Constraints of Desire, esp. Chapter 3.) 10 C f . Vermeule, pp. 163-4: ' T o take Greek myth at face value . . . is to learn that the gods have only two easy ways of communicating with men: by killing them or raping them.' 11 'Limb-relaxing longing': compare Sappho's famous fragments in which the subject of desire is also being dis-organized into a kind of death of the self; speech 'fails' her, her tongue is 'paralysed', her eyes 'blinded' - T feel as if I'm not far off dying.' A n d again: 'Love, the loosener of limbs, shakes me again, an inescapable bittersweet creature' (West, pp. 3 8 - 9 ; Trypanis, p. 150). 12 Vernant also cites Alcman's fragment to make the point: 'By the desire that loosens the limbs she [a woman] has a gaze that is more dissolvent than . . . Thanatos' (p. 101). 13 O f the several hundred volumes Epicurus is said to have written, very little survives; my summary here is indebted to Nussbaum. 14 Lucretius' term primordia

rerum corresponded to the atomoi of Epicurus; it

is generally translated as 'atoms', but also as 'elements', 'seeds' and 'generative particles'. T h e void (inane) is also translated as 'illimitable void', 'vacuum' and 'vacuity' (Lucretius, pp. 16-17, 2 8 - 9 ) . 15 Stoic philosophy seeks not only to control, but to eradicate the passions (pathos). T h e truly wise person will be completely invulnerable to them. A story is told of Anaxagoras that, greeted with the news of his child's death, he replied, T was already aware that I had begotten a mortal' (cited in Nussbaum, p. 363). By 'passion' the Stoics meant an impulse or drive which is excessive, uncontrolled, and which results in mental disturbance. In that sense passion overlaps with but is not synonymous with what we mean by 'desire' in its broad (i.e. more than sexual) sense: lust (epithymia - a yearning after something) was a passion, but so too was fear. T h e passions were reprehensible because they subverted reason. For the Stoics, reason was of the utmost importance, protecting the individual against the passions and against misfortune. Passion was also regarded as a kind of disease. 16 O n l y the soul can escape time, loss and misfortune - the soul which is 'a god dwelling as a guest in a human body'. One may, says Seneca, leap to heaven from the very slums, and he quotes Virgil: 'mould thyself to kinship with thy

332

NOTES TO PAGES

G o d ' (Epistulae Morales,

29-6l

I.229). In places Seneca subscribes to the Stoic idea

that the soul temporarily survives the death of the body; in others he regards death as complete extinction. 17 For a brief account of this, see A n n a Lydia M o t t o , Seneca, esp. Chapter 2, and M i r i a m T . Griffin, 'Imago Vitae Suae'. 18 M o s t severely by those like F. L . Lucas, who, unable to forgive Seneca the fact that the Elizabethans were so fascinated by h i m , declares that the philosopher was afraid of life and floated on the tide of things like 'a rigid corpse'. H e finds the judgement of Bernard Shaw's Hypatia (in Misalliance)

to be a fit epitaph for

Stoicism: ' O l d , o l d , old. Squeamish. Can't stand up to things. Always on the shrink' (pp. 4 7 - 8 ) .

Chapter

2

1 T h e text is sometimes cited in its familiar and most influential form, from the Authorized Version of the Bible, and sometimes from the modern, more literal, translation of R. B. Y . Scott ( ' A V and 'Scott' respectively). 2 C f . Job 14:1-2: ' M a n that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. H e cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.' 3 For further similarities with Ecclesiastes see also the Babylonian text called ' A Pessimistic Dialogue between Master and Servant', dating from the same period: ' C l i m b the mounds of ancient ruins and walk about: look at the skulls of late and early (men); who (among them) is an evildoer, who a public benefactor?' (Pritchard, p. 438). Another text, ' A Dialogue concerning H u m a n Misery', contains enough parallels to have been called the Babylonian Ecclesiastes (pp.

438-40)

Chapter

3

1 I owe this realization to Elizabeth A . Clark of D u k e University. 2 O n the influence of Gnosticism on Christianity, see, most recently, RankeHeinemann, Eunuchs for Heaven, and Osborne, The Poisoned Embrace. O n the relationship of Gnosticism to Buddhism, see Welbon, The Buddhist

Nirvana,

pp. 7 - 1 0 .

Chapter

4

1 Montaigne then immediately quotes from an elegy of Catullus: 'Iucundum cum tas florida ver ageret' ('When my age flourishing / D i d spend its pleasant spring' (Essayes, p. 30). 2 T h e idea that death is not the event which terminates life so much as a condition which pervades it was widely repeated. Compare M o r e :

333

NOTES T O PAGES

65-66

W h i c h measuring of time and diminishing o f life, with approaching towards death, is nothing else but from our beginning to our ending, one continual dying: so that wake we, sleep we, eat we, drink we, m o u r n we, sing we, in what wise soever live we, all the same while die we. So that we never ought to look towards death as a thing far off, considering that although he made no haste towards us, yet we never cease ourselves to make haste towards him.

('Four Last T h i n g s ' , p. 475)

A n d this is how Thomas Browne puts it in a well-known work: 'If we begin to die when we live, and long life be but a prolongation of death, our life is a sad composition; we live with death, and die not in a moment' ('Urn Burial', p. 161). This recalls Mephostophilis's famous remarks in Marlowe's Dr Faustus to the effect that hell is less a place than a state of consciousness: H e l l hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self place, but where we are is hell, A n d where hell is, there must we ever be. (V.122-4)

3 Eros retains from its mystical origin, where the two kinds of eros (the divinizing eros and sexual passion) were first and fatally confused, 'an indefinable divine element, falsely transcendent, an illusion of the liberating glory of which suffering remained the sign!' However, this attempt at surpassing becomes 'no more than an exaltation of narcissism' (de Rougemont, Love in the Western World, pp.

178-9). 4 Lawrence Osborne revives aspects of de Rougemont's argument, but extends its historical reach, when he claims, though without ever quite showing why, that the sexual optimism of recent times shares the fundamental structure of the Christian sexual pessimism it replaces; there is a continuity between St Augustine and Wilhelm Reich: 'sexual pessimism may have been buried, at least partially, but it continues to nourish the grass that grows on its grave': Sexual pessimism . . . destroys pleasure, but glorifies it inadvertently. It represses but cultivates passion. It scorns but exacerbates desire. It humiliates love, but then deepens it.

As a consequence sexual love becomes a destructive, dangerous, yet infinitely attractive adventure, a sacred perversion of Christ's Passion (pp. xi, 237). 5 This is elaborated in a consideration of how life is affected by art. Literature bestows its vocabulary on passion; the use of that vocabulary fosters the rise of the latent feelings most apt to be expressed through it. When 'passion goes beyond instinct and becomes truly itself, it tends to self-description, either in order to justify or intensify its being, or else simply in order to keep going' (de Rougement, Love in the Western World, p. 183). So, if the language of desire enables specific desires to be avowed, and made c o n s c i o u s , a n e w r h e t o r i c o f desire invariably causes 'neglected potentialities of the heart suddenly to become

334

NOTES

TO PAGES

66-6$

profusely actualized'. D e Rougement concurs with L a Rochefoucauld: few people would fall in love had they never heard of love (p. 183). A n d to some extent with Wilde: life imitates art. 6 In fact there's more than an echo of degeneration theory in de Rougement's account of cultural transmission, and especially in the idea of the profanation of the Tristan myth. (By 'profanation' he means both 'secularization' and 'sacrilege' Love in the Western World,

p. 184.) O n degeneration theory, see Chapter 9

below. 7 In his 1973 article on 'Love' for the Dictionary

of the History of Ideas, de

Rougemont elaborates his views of the dialectical relationship between passion and religion. Courtly love or the 'love-passion' was condemned by religious orthodoxy as a heresy. Here a familiar binary dependence obtains: the heresy survives only as long as the orthodoxy; each needs the other. But in this instance there is something else that binds them in antagonism: the heresy finds its inspiration in the orthodoxy; it is a perversion of the very orthodoxy which condemns it. Orthodox religion (and, one should add, morality)

animates,

combats and is combated by the love heresy. A n d the real danger to such passion - indeed to all passion - is not religion but 'a culture indifferent to religion'. F r o m this same violent dialectic de Rougemont reiterates one theme of Love in the Western World: 'passion is deepened and releases its energies only in

proportion

to the resistance it meets' (p. 101). This is why courtly passion actively seeks out natural, sacred, social or legal obstacles, and would even invent them if necessary. T h i s in turn means that sexual permissiveness is inimical to passion: 'nothing makes passion suffer more than facile access . . . one recoils in dismay at the idea of Isolde's becoming M r s . Tristan' (p. 105). 8 Kerrigan argues that 'the invention and dissemination of mechanical time in the renaissance brought about a complete reordering of sensibility'. H e regards this as central to if not the major cause of that sixteenth-century 'dislocation in man's sense of himself and the world so massive that arguably nothing like it has been seen again until, in this century, man discovered that he had the power to destroy not only himself but "the great globe itself . . . " ' Kerrigan also discusses the importance of Protestantism, clockmaking and the dissemination of mechanical time, conceding that it is impossible to determine which preceded the other: the religion or clock technology (Shakespeare, Sonnets, pp. 45, 3 3 37). H e finds Shakespeare fascinated with 'the idea that, appearing to possess time [e.g. the time-piece], man was possessed by it' (p. 38). T i m e as a principle of order, unity and coherence actually contains the seeds of destruction and oblivion. W i t h its symmetry, order, precision and absolute predictability, the time-piece seems to possess and tame time. Yet the apparent facts of possession and control of a time-piece are actually the means for time to gain greater possession of us; what we think we have tamed we have actually internalized even more deeply and more destructively.

335

NOTES

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TO PAGE

9 Compare the opening lines of the same sonnet: ' T h y glass will shew thee how thy beauties wear, / T h y dial how thy precious minutes waste'. T h e 1609 Quarto edition of the sonnets has 'were', which is amended by modern editors to 'wear'. In his edition Booth comments that 'were' was a reasonably common variant spelling of 'wear', adding: ' " w e r e " [ , ] meaning "used to be"[, ] is not immediately meaningful here, and wear is'. H e does allow a meaning like 'show thee how thy beauties were' - 'remind you of the beauty you had' (p. 267). I suggest 'were' carries a stronger meaning. 'Wear' externalizes the process (as in 'wear away'), even suggesting that beauties are worn like garments or cosmetics. 'Were' is also necessary not just in the sense of 'reminding you what you've lost', but in reminding you that this decay is what your beauties always were.

Chapter

5

1 Biathanatos was not published until 1646 - nearly forty years after it had been written, and fifteen years after Donne's death. 2 One M S has 'my affliction'. That Donne was susceptible to a suicidal depression disproportionate to the situation is suggested in a letter of 1608 in which he speaks of experiencing a frequent 'thirst and inhiation [i.e. the act of desiring greedily] after the next life' and, a moment later, of 'a desire of the next life'. H e experiences this desire not just when stricken with ill-fortune and weariness of this life (as at the time of writing this letter), but equally strongly in other, more fortunate, times: 'I had the same desires when I went with the tide, and enjoyed fairer hopes than now' (Selected Prose, p. 92). 3 blast: to wither, shrivel, blight; 'blasting withers up the brightness, freshness, beauty, vitality, and promise of living things'

(OED).

4 See Victor Harris, All Coherence Gone, and George Williamson, 'Mutability, Decay and Seventeeth-Century Melancholy'. 5 The discovery that the earth is not at the centre of the universe is often taken to be the first significant episode in the long and troubling decentring of 'man' - that is, the displacement of man from the centre of creation, along with the repudiation of creation theory itself. Other such episodes include Darwin's evolutionary downgrading of man's privileged place in creation, Marx's theory of man as determined by (rather than being responsible for) his social conditions, and Freud's theory of the unconscious as the real determinant of our actions. Freud declares, citing Georg Groddeck, 'what we call our ego behaves essentially passively in life, and that, as [Groddeck] expresses it, we are " l i v e d " by unknown and uncontrollable forces' (The Ego and the Id, p. 362). Though overlooking important distinctions, this account of a long process of decentring beginning in the late sixteenth century does usefully remind us of the extent to which the concern over mutability and change connects with the anxieties about identity discussed in Chapter 6.

336

78-99

NOTES TO PAGES

6 See Dollimore, Sexual Dissidence,

esp. pp. 117-21, 148-54.

7 As Edmund Spenser put it, desire is a 'web of will, whose end is never wrought' and the lover who escapes it is left 'Desiring nought but how to kill desire' ('Thou blind man's mark', in Williams, p. 173). 8 As Drummond's editor points out, this title was also intended to place the text in the tradition of midnight meditations on death (p. 199).

Chapter

6

1 A H references to Browne are to the edition edited by Symonds, unless otherwise stated. 2 I've explored this at length in Radical Tragedy; see esp. Part III, ' M a n Decentred'. 3 T h i s recalls Ulysses' speech in Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida, a play of the same date: . . . no m a n is the lord of anything, T h o u g h i n and of h i m there be m u c h consisting, T i l l he communicate his parts to others. N o r doth he of himself k n o w them for aught T i l l he behold them formed i n th'applause Where they're extended . . . (III.iii.110-15)

Compare Marlowe's Edward II: 'But what are kings when regiment is gone, / But perfect shadows in a sunshine day' ( V . i . 2 6 - 7 ) . 4 See Juliana Schiesari, The Gendering

of

Melancholia.

5 T h e 1829 edition of the work covered almost 3,000 pages and extended to six volumes; see Patrides (ed.) in Ralegh, History, p. xi. 6 Compare Machiavelli (1469-1527): 'nature has created men so that they desire everything, but are unable to attain it; desire being thus always greater than the faculty of acquiring, discontent with what they have[, ] and dissatisfaction with themselves[, ] results from it' (cited in Greenblatt, Sir Walter Ralegh, p. 40). 7 Unless otherwise stated, all quotations from the Sonnets are from the edition edited by John Kerrigan. 8 'Sustain' also means 'to endure, to suffer' (as in 'to sustain an injury'); Shakespeare several times used it in this sense. Thus manly marrow sustains (in the sense of supports) 'the bound and high curvet' of the steed, but also suffers and endures on its behalf. Even (especially?) in the supportive self-empowerment of the steed/war fantasy, masochism figures via sacrifice. It might be said that I'm reading too much into what is, after all, only an aside in a comedy. But such asides are exactly where we find a great deal of Shakespeare's thoughtful reflection. Another instance, now resonant with ironic implications for the displacement of mutability across gender, is Proteus's remark near the end of The Two Gentlemen of

Verona:

337

NOTES T O PAGES

1OO-I26

O heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect! T h a t one error Fills him with faults . . . (V.iv.no-12).

9 A n d not infrequently the occasion for laboured wit, as in the following anonymous poem, 'Stand, Stately Tavie': Stand, stately T a v i e , out of the codpiece rise, A n d dig a grave between the M r s . Thighs; Swift stand, then stab 'till she replies, T h e n gently weep, and after weeping die. Stand, T a v i e , and gain the credit lost; O r by this hand I'll never draw thee, but against a post. (Cole, p. 175)

10 T h e classical debate is usefully summarized by Michel Foucault in The Use of Pleasure, pp. 130-33. Clement of Alexandria was just one of those who expressed this conviction in terms which were also violently gendered: Does not lassitude succeed intercourse because of the quantity of seed lost? ' F o r a man is formed and torn out of a m a n . ' See h o w much harm is done. A whole man is torn out when the seed is lost in intercourse. (Christ the Educator, pp. 172-3)

Chapter

7

1 Unless otherwise stated, all quotations from the Sonnets are from the edition edited by John Kerrigan. 2 This representation of Juliet finds confirmation in Elisabeth Bronfen's analysis of later works of literature and art in Over Her Dead Body: Death,

Femininity

and the Aesthetic - see the Introduction above. 3 I have discussed these and other aspects of this play in 'Transgression and Surveillance in Measure for Measure' in Dollimore and Sinfield (eds.), Political Shakespeare. 4 Compare Macbeth:

'Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up / Thine own life's

means!' (II.iv.28-9).

Chapter

8

1 Equally simplistic is the idea that 'death blatantly defies the power of reason', that it 'is the scandal, the ultimate humiliation of reason' (Bauman, p. 15). 2 T o some extent the disagreement might seem to reduce if we distinguish between, say, an artistic, philosophical and arguably elitist preoccupation with the metaphysics of death and the more general social life of larger populations — the domain of social historians. But the distinction does not really hold, since

338

NOTES TO PAGES

I27-I42

the m o s t i n f l u e n t i a l h i s t o r i c a l a r g u m e n t s f o r the d e n i a l o f d e a t h have t e n d e d t o d r a w s i g n i f i c a n t l y o n the p h i l o s o p h i c a l a n d the a r t i s t i c , especially the l i t e r a r y . E v e n m o r e i m p o r t a n t is that s o c i a l h i s t o r i a n s l i k e D a v i d C a n n a d i n e ( ' W a r a n d D e a t h , G r i e f a n d M o u r n i n g i n M o d e r n B r i t a i n ' ) have q u e s t i o n e d the denial-ofd e a t h a r g u m e n t s b y e x p l o r i n g b o t h the a c t u a l i t y a n d the d i v e r s i t y o f p e o p l e ' s response t o d e a t h . T h i s k i n d o f s o c i a l h i s t o r y takes us i n t o i n t o the i m m e n s e l y varied experiences o f grief, loss a n d e n d u r a n c e . 3 G o o d w i n a n d B r o n f e n , I n t r o d u c t i o n t o Death

and Representation,

p . 4; cf.

D e n i s H o l l i e r : ' D e a t h . . . is the o t h e r o f e v e r y t h i n g k n o w n ; it threatens

the

m e a n i n g o f d i s c o u r s e s . D e a t h is hence i r r e d u c i b l y heterogeneous to h o m o l o g i e s ; it is n o t a s s i m i l a b l e ' (Against

Architecture,

p . 36).

Chapter

9

I C o m p a r e A . R . W a l l a c e , a m o r e progressive t h i n k e r , a n d c o n t r i b u t o r t o the e v o l u t i o n a r y t h e o r y o f n a t u r a l s e l e c t i o n , w h o a r g u e d that the threat o f d e g e n e r a t i o n teaches 'the a b s o l u t e necessity o f l a b o u r a n d effort, o f struggle a n d d i f f i c u l t y , o f d i s c o m f o r t a n d p a i n , as the c o n d i t i o n o f a l l p r o g r e s s ' (cited i n P i c k , p . 217). 2 M o s s e , Nationalism

and Sexuality,

C h a p t e r s 2, 7 a n d 8, esp. p p . I7, 2 5 , 34, 36;

see also G i l m a n , ' S e x o l o g y , P s y c h o a n a l y s i s , a n d D e g e n e r a t i o n ' . 3 It is i n t e r e s t i n g to find i n M i c h e l F o u c a u l t ' s The History

of Sexuality,

otherwise

o n e o f the m o s t i n f l u e n t i a l m o d e r n challenges t o p s y c h o a n a l y s i s , a r e c o g n i t i o n o f h o w p s y c h o a n a l y s i s nevertheless ' r i g o r o u s l y o p p o s e d the p o l i t i c a l a n d i n s t i t u t i o n a l effects o f the p e r v e r s i o n - h e r e d i t y - d e g e n e r e s c e n c e 4 T h u s E d w i n L a n k e s t e r , w r i t i n g i n the Encyclopaedia

s y s t e m ' (I.II9).

Britannica

(IIth edn, 1910-

11), c o n t e s t e d the o p t i m i s t i c v i e w that e v o l u t i o n a n d progress i m p l i e d each o t h e r ; o n the c o n t r a r y , e v o l u t i o n c o u l d be a r e t u r n f r o m a c o m p l e x t o a s i m p l e r state w h a t he c a l l e d ' a p r o g r e s s i v e s i m p l i f i c a t i o n o f s t r u c t u r e ' (cited i n P i c k , p . 218). 5 O n the c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n the perverse a n d the p r i m i t i v e , see f u r t h e r G i l m a n , 'Sexology,

P s y c h o a n a l y s i s , a n d D e g e n e r a t i o n ' , p p . 7 3 , 87—89. O n the racist

transfer o f the s e x u a l stereotype o f the degenerate, see M o s s e , Nationalism Sexuality,

and

p . 36. T h e m o s t i n f o r m a t i v e recent a c c o u n t o f ideas o f d e g e n e r a t i o n

i n r e l a t i o n t o race is R o b e r t Y o u n g ' s Colonial 6 I argue t h i s m o r e f u l l y i n Sexual Dissidence,

Desire,

esp. C h a p t e r 4.

esp. P a r t s 5 a n d 6; f o r a s u m m a r y

o f the a r g u m e n t , see D o l l i m o r e , ' T h e C u l t u r a l P o l i t i c s o f P e r v e r s i o n ' . 7 S o m e a d v o c a t e s o f d e g e n e r a t i o n t r i e d t o p r o v e it p h r e n o l o g i c a l l y - i n , f o r i n s t a n c e , the shape a n d w e i g h t o f the s k u l l . O t h e r s , l i k e M o r e l , also i n v o k e d the h i d d e n w o r k i n g s o f degeneracy. T h i s t e n s i o n b e t w e e n its v i s i b l e a n d i n v i s i b l e w o r k i n g s p a r a l l e l e d the r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f the degenerate u r b a n classes: ' P e r c e i v e d as v i s i b l y different, a n o m a l o u s a n d r a c i a l l y " a l i e n " , the p r o b l e m w a s s i m u l t a n e o u s l y t h e i r a p p a r e n t i n v i s i b i l i t y i n the f l u x o f the great c i t y ' ( P i c k , p p . 5 I - 2 ) . 8 C o m p a r e W i l l i a m H i r s c h , another advocate of degeneration theory, w r i t i n g i n I887: ' B e t w e e n any f o r m o f disease a n d h e a l t h there are o n l y differences

339

of

NOTES TO PAGES

I 4 3 - I 6 I

degree. N o disease is a n y t h i n g m o r e t h a n a n e x a g g e r a t i o n , o r d i s p r o p o r t i o n , o r a n h a r m o n y [sic] o f n o r m a l p h e n o m e n a ' (p. 73). 9 See also G r e e n s l a d e p p . 2 0 - 4 6 , 2 5 3 - 6 3 passim.

A n d compare D . H . Lawrence

( b e l o w , C h a p t e r I8).

Chapter

I0

I W a t t s sees C o n r a d m o r e as r e m i n i s c e n t o f N o r d a u t h a n as a n t i c i p a t o r y o f Freud (Conrad's H e a r t o f Darkness, pp. I 3 2 - 4 ) . 2 W a t t s , Conrad's Darkness,

H e a r t o f D a r k n e s s , p p . 3 - 4 ; also C h r i s t o p h e r L . M i l l e r ,

Blank

esp. p . I72.

3 C f . the s u i c i d e o f D e c o u d i n C o n r a d ' s Nostromo.

A d r i f t i n a b o a t o n the o c e a n ,

d o u b t i n g his o w n i n d i v i d u a l i t y , u n a b l e to differentiate it f r o m the i n a n i m a t e w o r l d a r o u n d h i m , a n d p e r c e i v i n g the u n i v e r s e as a 'succession o f i n c o m p r e h e n sible i m a g e s ' , he shoots h i m s e l f . T h e sea i n t o w h i c h he falls r e m a i n s ' u n t r o u b l e d b y the f a l l o f his b o d y ' ; he d i s a p p e a r s ' w i t h o u t a trace, s w a l l o w e d u p b y the i m m e n s e indifference o f t h i n g s ' - the p r o v e r b i a l , q u a n t i f i a b l y i n d i s t i n c t a n d i n d i s c e r n i b l e d r o p i n the o c e a n (pp. 4 0 9 , 4 I I - I 2 ) .

Chapter

II

I ' T h e i m a g e o f the progress to i n f i n i t y [bad i n f i n i t y ] is the straight

line, at the

t w o l i m i t s o f w h i c h a l o n e the i n f i n i t e is, a n d a l w a y s o n l y is w h e r e the l i n e w h i c h is d e t e r m i n a t e b e i n g - is n o t , a n d w h i c h goes out beyond to this n e g a t i o n o f its d e t e r m i n a t e b e i n g , that is, t o the i n d e t e r m i n a t e ; the i m a g e o f true i n f i n i t y , bent b a c k o n itself, b e c o m e s the circle,

the l i n e w h i c h has r e a c h e d itself, w h i c h

is c l o s e d a n d w h o l l y present, w i t h o u t beginning

o r end'

( H e g e l , Logic,

p . I49).

2 H e g e l also m a k e s G o d c o e x t e n s i v e w i t h r e a s o n : ' G o d is essentially r a t i o n a l ' , a n d this is a r a t i o n a l i t y ' t h a t is alive a n d , as s p i r i t , is i n a n d f o r i t s e l f ' (Lectures, I.I39). C o r r e s p o n d i n g l y , 'as p u r e k n o w i n g o r as t h i n k i n g [spirit] has the u n i v e r s a l f o r its object - this is eternity. E t e r n i t y is n o t mere d u r a t i o n (in the sense t h a t the m o u n t a i n s endure) b u t knowing

- the k n o w i n g o f w h a t is e t e r n a l ' (III.209).

T h u s the h u b r i s t i c r e a c h o f H e g e l ' s r a t i o n a l i s m : the i r r e c o n c i l a b l e otherness o f G o d a n d that o f E t e r n i t y - o t h e r , that is, to m a n - are a b o l i s h e d n o t t h r o u g h their demystification but rather through their i n c o r p o r a t i o n . 3 F e u e r b a c h a n d M a r x b o t h r e g a r d e d H e g e l i a n p h i l o s o p h y as the last r a t i o n a l refuge o f t h e o l o g y . B u t this w a s n o t the e n d o f t h e o l o g y ; it m e a n t that h e n c e f o r t h it c o u l d o n l y p r o c e e d i r r a t i o n a l l y - w h i c h w a s n o great sacrifice.

Chapter

I2

I E l s e w h e r e H e i d e g g e r refers to o u r tendency to 'hasten i n t o the p u b l i c superficies o f existence' ( ' W h a t is M e t a p h y s i c s ? ' , p . I06). T h e i t a l i c s t h r o u g h o u t this c h a p t e r are H e i d e g g e r ' s unless o t h e r w i s e stated.

340

NOTES T O PAGES

I62-I82

2 F o r a f u l l e r e l u c i d a t i o n o f H e i d e g g e r o n d e a t h , see L i n g i s , Deathbound tivity,

Subjec-

esp. C h a p t e r s 5 a n d 8.

3 I n the I992 preface t o h i s Heidegger,

G e o r g e Steiner r e m a r k s , ' N o t o r i o u s l y ,

H e i d e g g e r h i m s e l f w a s u n a b l e t o a r r i v e at a d e f i n i t i o n o f Sein, o f B e i n g a n d the b e i n g o f B e i n g , t h a t is n o t either a p u r e t a u t o l o g y o r a m e t a p h o r i c a n d i n f i n i t e l y regressive c h a i n . H e h i m s e l f a d m i t t e d this fact, a t t r i b u t i n g t o h u m a n speech itself s o m e r a d i c a l i n a d e q u a c y i n the face o f B e i n g . ' O n e p r o b l e m , as Steiner p o i n t s o u t , is H e i d e g g e r ' s a t t e m p t t o t h i n k B e i n g i n d e p e n d e n t l y o f w h a t a c t u a l l y a n d e x i s t e n t i a l l y is (pp. x i x — x x ) . T h i s p r o b l e m is c l o s e l y c o n n e c t e d w i t h a n o t h e r , n a m e l y t h a t H e i d e g g e r - o n e o f the greatest influences i n C o n t i n e n t a l t h o u g h t is a l s o n o t o r i o u s l y d i f f i c u l t t o u n d e r s t a n d . H i s defenders believe the d i f f i c u l t y is i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m h i s p r o f u n d i t y , w h e r e a s his c r i t i c s assert t h a t he is t a l k i n g non-sense. S o m e even r e g a r d H e i d e g g e r ' s i m p e n e t r a b l e style t o be c o n n e c t e d w i t h his reprehensible politics. 4 O n e o f H e i d e g g e r ' s m o r e i n t r i g u i n g r e m a r k s a b o u t b e i n g c o n c e r n s its r e l a t i o n t o b o r e d o m : ' P r o f o u n d b o r e d o m , d r i f t i n g here a n d there i n the abysses o f o u r existence l i k e a m u f f l i n g f o g , r e m o v e s a l l t h i n g s a n d m e n a n d oneself a l o n g w i t h it i n t o a r e m a r k a b l e i n d i f f e r e n c e . T h i s b o r e d o m reveals b e i n g as a w h o l e ' ( ' W h a t is M e t a p h y s i c s ? ' , p . I 0 I ) . 5 O n the influence o f K o j é v e ' s a c c o u n t o f H e g e l , see V i n c e n t D e s c o m b e s , French

Philosophy,

that Kojéve's

a n d S h a d i a B . D r u r y , Alexandre

Kojéve.

Modern

It s h o u l d be a d d e d

r e a d i n g o f H e g e l is also i n f l u e n c e d b y M a r x , F e u e r b a c h

and

Heidegger. 6 T h i s is a s u b s e q u e n t t r a n s l a t i o n o f a c h a p t e r o f K o j é v e ' s lectures s i g n i f i c a n t l y o m i t t e d f r o m the o r i g i n a l E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n . 7 See I n w o o d , ' H e g e l o n D e a t h ' , a n d D r u r y , Alexandre

Kojéve,

esp. n o t e 7, p . 222.

8 O n H e i d e g g e r ' s indebtedness t o H e g e l , see K o j é v e , ' T h e Idea o f D e a t h ' , p p . I33, I 4 8 , I56, a n d I n w o o d , p .

II5.

9 T h i s preface o f Steiner's is o n e o f the best s h o r t a c c o u n t s o f the p r o b l e m s I h a v e r e a d , b u t see t o o C h a p t e r 7, ' S e t t l i n g A c c o u n t s : H e i d e g g e r , de M a n a n d the ends o f P h i l o s o p h y ' , i n C h r i s t o p h e r N o r r i s ' s What's

Chapter

Wrong

with

Postmodernism.

I3

I C f . World, I.356, p a r a p h r a s i n g B u d d h i s m : ' " Y o u s h a l l a t t a i n t o N i r v a n a , i n o t h e r w o r d s , t o a state o r c o n d i t i o n i n w h i c h there are n o t f o u r t h i n g s , n a m e l y b i r t h , o l d age, disease, a n d d e a t h . " '

Chapter

I4

I T h e f o l l o w i n g are e l e m e n t a r y glosses o n s o m e o f the c o n c e p t s u s e d by F r e u d . F o r f u l l e r a c c o u n t s see L a p l a n c h e a n d P o n t a l i s , The Language Libido

of

Psychoanalysis.

refers t o the energy o f the s e x u a l i n s t i n c t s . T h e ego is the o r g a n i z e d part

34I

NOTES T O PAGES

I82-I88

o f the m i n d , the 'I' o f the self; the id is the u n c o o r d i n a t e d i n s t i n c t s ('the d a r k , inaccessible p a r t o f o u r p e r s o n a l i t y ' - New

Introductory

Lectures,

p . I05). T h e

ego, w h i c h lies b e t w e e n r e a l i t y a n d the i d , w o r k s t o w a r d s defensive i n t e g r a t i o n , whereas the i d often threatens s u c h i n t e g r a t i o n . W h e r e a s e v e r y t h i n g that h a p p e n s i n the i d r e m a i n s u n c o n s c i o u s , processes i n the ego m a y o r m a y n o t be c o n s c i o u s . T h e superego

o c c u p i e s a s p e c i a l p o s i t i o n between the ego a n d the i d a n d is the

c r i t i c a l , m o r a l i z i n g p a r t o f the m i n d ; it is the vehicle f o r w h a t w e c a l l c o n s c i e n c e . T h e i d , ego a n d superego are p o t e n t i a l l y a l w a y s i n c o n f l i c t w i t h each o t h e r . 2 U n l i k e i n m o u r n i n g , w i t h m e l a n c h o l i a the loss is n o t necessarily c o n s c i o u s ; a n d , even w h e r e it is a p p a r e n t w h a t o r w h o m has been lost, the significance o f that loss a n d w h a t it represents to the subject m a y n o t be. F r o m his a n a l y s i s o f m e l a n c h o l i a , F r e u d believes that the ego c a n k i l l itself o n l y if, o w i n g to the r e t u r n o f o b j e c t - c a t h e x i s , it comes to treat itself as a n object. H e also believes that the ego is e q u a l l y o v e r w h e l m e d b y the object i n the o t h e r w i s e c o m p l e t e l y o p p o s e d s i t u a t i o n s o f b e i n g m o s t intensely i n l o v e a n d o f s u i c i d e . M e l a n c h o l i a does often end i n s u i c i d e , because i n this state the superego b e c o m e s ' a k i n d o f g a t h e r i n g - p l a c e for the d e a t h i n s t i n c t s ' ; w h a t h o l d s s w a y i n the superego o f the m e l a n c h o l i c i s , as it w e r e , ' a p u r e c u l t u r e o f the d e a t h i n s t i n c t , a n d i n fact it often e n o u g h succeeds i n d r i v i n g the ego i n t o d e a t h ' ( ' M o u r n i n g a n d M e l a n c h o l i a ' , p p . 2 5 8 , 2 6 I ; The Ego and the Id, p p . 3 9 4 - 5 ) . 3 If the effect o f the r e p r e s s i o n o f i n s t i n c t r e m a i n s as the experience o f n o n s a t i s f a c t i o n , it is also the case that s u c h pleasure as is o b t a i n a b l e derives f r o m the s u r v i v i n g r e m n a n t s o f p r i m i t i v e i n s t i n c t s . F r e u d speaks f o r e x a m p l e o f ' c r u d e and p r i m a r y instinctual impulses [which] convulse o u r physical being', of ' w i l d i n s t i n c t u a l ' i m p u l s e s ' u n t a m e d by the ego', a n d contrasts these w i t h i n s t i n c t u a l s a t i s f a c t i o n that has been so t a m e d , o r s u b l i m a t e d . T h e r e is just n o c o m p a r i s o n : the p r i m a r y type is ' i n c o m p a r a b l y m o r e intense'. H e a d d s , ' T h e i r r e s i s t i b i l i t y o f perverse i n s t i n c t s , a n d p e r h a p s the a t t r a c t i o n i n general o f f o r b i d d e n t h i n g s finds an e c o n o m i c e x p l a n a t i o n here' ( C i v i l i z a t i o n and its Discontents,

p . 267).

4 T h i s i d e a r e m a i n e d t r o u b l i n g l y i n c o n s i s t e n t i f n o t c o n t r a d i c t o r y ; as L a p l a n c h e remarks: From an economic point of view the major contradiction consists in attributing to a single 'drive' the tendency towards the radical elimination of all tension, the supreme form of the pleasure principle, and the masochistic search for unpleasure, which, in all logic, can only be interpreted as an increase of tension. (Life and Death, p. I08) 5 R e c a l l S c h o p e n h a u e r : ' A w a k e n e d to life o u t o f the n i g h t o f u n c o n s c i o u s n e s s , the w i l l finds itself as a n i n d i v i d u a l i n a n endless a n d b o u n d l e s s w o r l d , a m o n g i n n u m e r a b l e i n d i v i d u a l s , a l l s t r i v i n g , s u f f e r i n g , a n d e r r i n g ; a n d , as i f t h r o u g h a t r o u b l e d d r e a m , it h u r r i e s b a c k t o the o l d u n c o n s c i o u s n e s s ' ( W o r l d , II.573). 6 '. . . the p r o b l e m o f the o r i g i n o f life w o u l d r e m a i n a c o s m o l o g i c a l o n e ; a n d the p r o b l e m o f the g o a l o r p u r p o s e o f life w o u l d be a n s w e r e d dualistically'' Ego and the Id, p . 3 8 I ; F r e u d ' s e m p h a s i s ) . 342

(The

NOTES TO PAGES

189-190

7 A p r i m e i n s t a n c e o f d e f u s i o n is s e x u a l s a d i s m f u n c t i o n i n g i n d e p e n d e n t l y as a perversion: M a k i n g a swift generalization, we might conjecture that the essence of a regression of libido (e.g. from the genital to the sadistic-anal phase) lies in a defusion of instincts, just as, conversely, the advance from the earlier phase to the definitive genital one w o u l d be conditioned by an accession of erotic components. (The Ego and the Id, p. 382) 8 N a m e l y t h a t there exists a ' d i s p l a c e a b l e a n d i n d i f f e r e n t e n e r g y ' , a d e s e x u a l i z e d l i b i d o , w h i c h c a n be a d d e d t o either a n e r o t i c o r a d e s t r u c t i v e i m p u l s e , t o a u g m e n t its t o t a l c a t h e x i s . H e c o n c l u d e s t h a t , w h e r e a s the d e a t h i n s t i n c t s are b y t h e i r n a t u r e m u t e , 'the c l a m o u r o f life proceeds f o r the m o s t p a r t f r o m E r o s '

(The

Ego and the Id, p p . 385, 387). 9 F r e u d a l s o e q u i v o c a t e s as t o w h i c h i n s t i n c t is p r i m a r y . T h u s he says o f the i d t h a t it w o u l d be p o s s i b l e to i m a g i n e it as u n d e r the d o m i n a t i o n o f the d e a t h d r i v e s , o n l y t o a d d ' b u t p e r h a p s t h a t m i g h t be t o u n d e r p l a y the p a r t p l a y e d b y E r o s ' (The Ego and the Id, p . 4 0 I ) . I0 L a p l a n c h e a n d P o n t a l i s , p . 4 I 8 ; cf. p . I 0 3 , a n d L a p l a n c h e : Whereas, ever since the beginnings of psychoanalysis, sexuality was in its essence hostile to b i n d i n g - a principle of 'un-binding' or unfettering (Entbindung) which could be bound only through the intervention of the ego - what appears with Eros is the bound and binding form of sexuality, brought to light by the discovery of narcissism. It is that form of sexuality, cathecting its object, attached to a form, which henceforth w i l l sustain the ego and life itself, as well as any specific form of sublimation. (Life and Death, pp. I 2 3 - 4 ) F r e u d c a n n o t s i m p l y c h a n g e his t h e o r y i n this respect w i t h o u t c a s t i n g r e a l d o u b t o n o t h e r aspects o f i t . F o r e x a m p l e , e r o t i c b i n d i n g is i n e x t r i c a b l e f r o m s o c i a l a n d psychic b i n d i n g more generally, a n d all such b i n d i n g involves a simultaneous process o f d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n , n o t t o m e n t i o n the p r e c a r i o u s d i s j u n c t i o n s e n t a i l e d b y i d e n t i f i c a t i o n a n d d i s a v o w a l — p o t e n t i a l u n d o i n g s o f the m o s t r a d i c a l k i n d . L e a v i n g aside the t e r m s o f p s y c h o a n a l y s i s , w e need o n l y r e c a l l s o m e o f the l i t e r a r y a n d p h i l o s o p h i c a l c o n s i d e r a t i o n s o f desire e n c o u n t e r e d i n e a r l i e r c h a p t e r s t o be r e m i n d e d t h a t its p o t e n t i a l t o u n b i n d is f o r m i d a b l e . T o r e p l y t h a t this force o f u n b i n d i n g is a c t u a l l y the w o r k o f the d e a t h i n s t i n c t fused w i t h eros is r e a l l y o n l y t o m a k e the t h e o r y t r u e b y d e f i n i t i o n a n d a g a i n r o b it o f a n y e x p l a n a t o r y p o w e r . II

I've a r g u e d i n Sexual

Dissidence

(pp. I69—204) t h a t , w h i l e F r e u d ' s t h e o r y

r e q u i r e d the i d e a o f the s e x u a l p e r v e r s i o n s - m o s t especially h o m o s e x u a l i t y

-

they c a m e t o t a k e o n a t r o u b l i n g c e n t r a l i t y i n his w o r k , g r o w i n g i n significance ( t h o u g h i n e x p l i c a b l y ) , a n d often f o r e g r o u n d i n g i n c o n s i s t e n c i e s . P l a c i n g t h e m o n the side o f the d e a t h d r i v e w o u l d be o n e w a y b a c k t o a c e r t a i n t h e o r e t i c a l c o h e r e n c e . T h e t w o p e r v e r s i o n s w h i c h he h i t h e r t o a c c o r d e d s u c h h i g h p r i o r i t y , n a m e l y s a d i s m a n d m a s o c h i s m , h e l p i n the d i s c o v e r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e , b e i n g m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f it s t r o n g l y a l l o y e d w i t h eros (Civilization pp. 3 I 0 - I I ) .

343

and its

Discontents,

NOTES TO PAGES

I92-I95

I2 F r e u d i s , h o w e v e r , n o t o r i o u s l y g u a r d e d - n o t to say evasive - i n his a c k n o wlegem e n t o f m o r e recent influences: The large extent to which psycho-analysis coincides with the philosophy of Schopenhauer - not only d i d he assert the dominance of the emotions and the supreme importance of sexuality but he was even aware of the mechanism of repression - is not to be traced to my acquaintance with his teaching. I read Schopenhauer very late in my life. Nietzsche, another philosopher whose guesses and intuitions often agree in the most astonishing way with the laborious findings of psycho-analysis, was for a long time avoided by me on that very account; I was less concerned with the question of priority than keeping my mind unembarrassed. ('An Autobiographical Study', p. 244) I3 C r . New

Introductory

Lectures:

T h e t h e o r y o r the i n s t i n c t s is so to say o u r

m y t h o l o g y . Instincts are m y t h i c a l entities, m a g n i f i c e n t i n t h e i r indefiniteness' (p. I27). I4 B o o t h b y also s h o w s that N i e t z s c h e ' s t h i n k i n g i n The Birth of Tragedy

also

bears c o m p a r i s o n w i t h F r e u d , as does the m e t a p h y s i c s o f H e g e l (Death

and

Desire,

p p . I 8 8 - 9 I , I 9 6 - 2 0 3 ) . R e l a t e d l y , F r e u d ' s a c c o u n t o f the c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n

the t w o p r i n c i p l e s (pleasure a n d reality) - a c o n f l i c t w h i c h the d i s c o v e r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e revises - r e w o r k s the t r a d i t i o n a l d i c h o t o m y e x e r c i s i n g p h i l o s o p h e r s f r o m A r i s t o t l e to S p i n o z a a n d b e y o n d , b e t w e e n p a s s i o n a n d r e a s o n . A n o t h e r influence o n F r e u d w a s c o n t e m p o r a r y b i o l o g y . I n c e r t a i n i m p o r t a n t respects F r e u d w a s s e e k i n g t o r e f o r m u l a t e this o l d e r v i s i o n i n b i o l o g i c a l t e r m s . B u t F r a n k S u l l o w a y argues p e r s u a s i v e l y that F r e u d ' s d e a t h - d r i v e t h e o r y w a s b o t h i m p l i e d a n d r e n d e r e d necessary by several e x i s t i n g a n d i n t r a c t a b l e t h e o r e t i c a l p r o b l e m s i n his w o r k . I n the process he t u r n e d to c o n t e m p o r a r y b i o l o g i c a l science (Freud,

Biologist

of the Mind,

esp. p p . 3 9 4 - 5 , 4 I 2 - I 3 ) .

I5 A s L a p l a n c h e observes o f Beyond

the Pleasure

Principle,

'Never had Freud

s h o w n h i m s e l f to be so p r o f o u n d l y free a n d as a u d a c i o u s as i n t h a t vast m e t a p s y e t i o l o g i c a l , m e t a p h y s i c a l , a n d m e t a b i o l o g i c a l fresco' (Life and Death,p.

I06).

I6 A t that l i m i t , says H e n r y Staten, h u m a n desire b e c o m e s the desire to ' c o n t r a c t i n t o the i n f i n i t e p a r t i c u l a r i t y o f one's o w n b e i n g as a b e i n g o f n o t h i n g n e s s ' ; desire is the d i f f i c u l t a n d d e m a n d i n g p l a c e i n w h i c h a u t h e n t i c i t y c a n be f o u n d , b u t the p r i c e o f s u c h a u t h e n t i c i t y is ' c o n f r o n t a t i o n w i t h the absolute

n o t h i n g n e s s o f the

s e l f (pp. I68, I85). I7 M a l c o l m B o w i e e v o k e s s o m e t h i n g o f L a c a n ' s o w n t o r t u r e d v e r s i o n o f the i d e a w h e n he says that desire 'is n o t a state o r a m o t i o n b u t a space, a n d n o t a u n i f i e d space b u t a split a n d c o n t o r t e d o n e ' (p. I37). B o w i e also r e m a r k s that L a c a n ' s style of t h e o r i z i n g is a n a t t e m p t t o w r i t e 'transience b a c k i n t o the p s y c h o a n a l y t i c a c c o u n t o f the h u m a n m i n d ' (p. I0). A n d n o t o n l y negatively: there are places w h e r e L a c a n speaks m o r e v i t a l i s t i c a l l y o f desire, c o n n e c t i n g it w i t h ' a n o r i g i n a l o r g a n i c d i s a r r a y . . . a v i t a l dehiscence that is c o n s t i t u t i v e o f m a n . . . a " n e g a t i v e " l i b i d o t h a t enables the H e r a c l i t e a n n o t i o n o f D i s c o r d , w h i c h the E p h e s i a n b e l i e v e d t o be p r i o r t o h a r m o n y , t o shine o n c e m o r e ' ( L a c a n , Ecrits,

344

p . 21).

NOTES T O PAGES

I95-204

I8 M i t c h e l l a g a i n , s u m m a r i z i n g o n e o f L a c a n ' s b a s i c a n d m o s t i n f l u e n t i a l p r i n ciples: the unconscious reveals a fragmented subject of shifting and uncertain sexual identity. T o be human is to be subjected to a law which decentres and divides: sexuality is created in a division, the subject is split; but an ideological w o r l d conceals this from the conscious subject who is supposed to feel whole and certain of a sexual identity. (Lacan, Feminine Sexuality, p. z6) I9 B o o t h b y has a t t e m p t e d t o r e n d e r the L a c a m a n a c c o u n t m o r e c o h e r e n t a n d t h e r e b y r e n d e r the t h e o r y o f the d e a t h d r i v e m o r e g e n e r a l l y a c c e p t a b l e . H e does so b y a r g u i n g t h a t the i n s t i n c t a i m s at the d e a t h n o t o f the o r g a n i s m b u t o f the self, o r ego. L i k e a l l L a c a n i a n a r g u m e n t s , this o n e is i n t r i c a t e a n d q u e s t i o n - b e g g i n g , b u t the i m p o r t a n t p o i n t seems t o be t h i s : as a r a d i c a l force o f u n b i n d i n g , the d e a t h d r i v e m u s t be i n t e r p r e t e d p s y c h o l o g i c a l l y . T h i s m e a n s t h a t w h a t is subject t o ' d e a t h ' is n o t the b i o l o g i c a l o r g a n i s m b u t the u n i t y o f the i m a g i n a r y ego. T h u s ' t h e d e a t h d r i v e m a y . . . be s a i d t o be the r e t u r n o f the r e a l against the defensive o r g a n i z a t i o n o f the ego t h a t e x c l u d e s i t ' ; the ego is u n d o n e b y energies f o r e i g n t o its o r g a n i z a t i o n , energies a s s o c i a t e d s p e c i f i c a l l y w i t h the i d : 'the o c e a n i c forces o f the i d are d e s t i n e d a g a i n a n d a g a i n t o o v e r t a k e the ego a n d t h r e a t e n t o w a s h a w a y the face o f its i d e n t i t y ' (pp. 7 1 , 84, 105, I85, 224). 20 F o r e x a m p l e , ' i t is i n effect as a desire f o r d e a t h t h a t [the subject] affirms h i m s e l f f o r o t h e r s ; i f he identifies h i m s e l f w i t h the o t h e r , it is b y fixing h i m s o l i d l y i n the m e t a m o r p h o s i s o f h i s essential i m a g e , a n d n o b e i n g is ever e v o k e d b y h i m e x c e p t a m o n g the s h a d o w s o f d e a t h ' (Ecrits, t h a t L a c a n 'preserves

p p . I 0 4 - 5 ) . H e n r y Staten

finds

i n a s o p h i s t i c a t e d n e w f a s h i o n the C h r i s t i a n / P l a t o n i c

d e p r e c i a t i o n o f the w o r l d l y l i b i d i n a l object as a "vanitas",

a deceptive a p p e a r a n c e

t h a t lures the subject a w a y f r o m her o n t o l o g i c a l d e s t i n y ' . St A u g u s t i n e is p a r t i c u l a r l y i m p o r t a n t f o r L a c a n , w h o k n e w w h e r e he w a s c o m i n g f r o m 'even i f m a n y o f his f o l l o w e r s d o n o t ' (pp. I 6 7 , I82).

Chapter

I5

I C h i n u a A c h e b e w r o t e , ' C o n r a d w a s a t h o r o u g h g o i n g r a c i s t . . . A n d the q u e s t i o n is w h e t h e r a n o v e l w h i c h celebrates this d e h u m a n i z a t i o n , w h i c h d e p e r s o n a l i z e s a p o r t i o n o f the h u m a n race, c a n be c a l l e d a great w o r k o f art. M y a n s w e r is: N o , i t c a n n o t ' ( ' A n Image o f A f r i c a ' , p . 267). H i s essay is r e p r i n t e d i n B r o o k e r a n d W i d d o w s o n (eds.), A Practical

Reader

in Contemporary

Literary

Theory,

w h i c h has several o t h e r essays o n t h i s n o v e l . C r a i g R a i n e disputes A c h e b e ' s v i e w o f C o n r a d as a r a c i s t i n a r e v i e w o f A c h e b e ' s Hopes London

Review

of Books,

and Impediments

i n the

22 J u n e I 9 8 9 , p p . I 6 - I 8 . T h i s a r t i c l e gave rise t o a

d i s p u t e i n the letters c o l u m n e x t e n d i n g t o D e c e m b e r I 9 8 9 . See a l s o D , C . R . A . G o o n e t i l l e k e (ed.), Heart

of Darkness,

esp. p p . I 4 - 2 9 .

345

8 N O T E ST O P A G E S

2l6~226

2 Z h d a n o v describes this as a ' c l e a r , s h a r p , e x a c t , p r o f o u n d l y scientific c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n ' (p. 95). 3 See W e r n e r H a h n , Postwar Policy

Soviet Politics,

and Gavriel Ra'anan,

International

Formation.

4 R e c a l l i n g N i e t z s c h e , M a r c u s e traces the i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h b a c k to Socrates' d e v a l u a t i o n o f e a r t h l y existence, a n d o f the b o d y , a n d his a s s o c i a t i o n o f t r u t h w i t h s e l f - d e n i a l a n d s e l f - r e n u n c i a t i o n ('The I d e o l o g y o f D e a t h ' , p p . 6 7 - 8 ) . 5 O n H e i d e g g e r ' s N a z i s m see a b o v e , C h a p t e r 12. 6 T h i s e r r o r is n o t u n c o n n e c t e d w i t h the fact t h a t , by the 1980s, Eros Civilization

and

w a s b e i n g d i s r e g a r d e d , often m e n t i o n e d o n l y i n p a s s i n g as a f o i l to

F o u c a u l t ' s i n f l u e n t i a l anti-essentialist a c c o u n t o f p o w e r a n d resistance to i t . F o u c a u l t p r e s u m a b l y h a d M a r c u s e i n m i n d w h e n he d e c l a r e d , i n The History Sexuality,

of

that 'there is n o single l o c u s o f great R e f u s a l , n o s o u l o f r e v o l t , s o u r c e

o f a l l r e b e l l i o n s , o r p u r e l a w o f the r e v o l u t i o n a r y . Instead there is a p l u r a l i t y o f resistances . . .' ( I . 9 5 - 6 ) . Since this w a s t a k e n t o refer to M a r c u s e ' s i r r e d e e m a b l e e s s e n t i a l i s m - at least by those w h o h a d n o t r e a d h i m - it is i n s t r u c t i v e t o r e c a l l h o w M a r c u s e endorses the w a y i n w h i c h p s y c h o a n a l y s i s necessarily dissolves the i n d i v i d u a l , finding i n the ' a u t o n o m o u s p e r s o n a l i t y ' m e r e l y 'the frozen tation

of

the

general

repression of

manifes-

mankind'. Both rationality and

self-

consciousness are f o r m s o f r e p r e s s i o n , i n t e r n a l a n d e x t e r n a l ; p s y c h o a n a l y s i s c a n u n d e r m i n e 'one o f the strongest i d e o l o g i c a l f o r t i f i c a t i o n s o f m o d e r n c u l t u r e — n a m e l y , the n o t i o n o f the a u t o n o m o u s i n d i v i d u a l ' (Eros and Civilization,

p . 57).

It is also w o r t h n o t i n g that M a r c u s e ' s n o t i o n o f 'repressive d e s u b l i m a t i o n ' anticipates F o u c a u l t ' s o w n a c c o u n t o f the r e l a t i o n s h i p between s e x u a l i t y a n d power. 7 S i m i l a r l y , p h a n t a s y , by l i n k i n g the deepest layers o f the u n c o n s c i o u s w i t h the highest p r o d u c t s o f consciousness (art), the d r e a m w i t h the r e a l i t y , 'preserves the archetypes o f the genus, the p e r p e t u a l b u t repressed ideas o f the c o l l e c t i v e a n d i n d i v i d u a l m e m o r y , the t a b o o d images o f f r e e d o m ' ; p h a n t a s y also possesses a t r u t h value o f its o w n {Eros and Civilization, Dimensional

pp. 141-3). Compare

One-

Man: ' R e m e m b r a n c e o f the past m a y give rise to d a n g e r o u s i n s i g h t s '

(p. 98). 8 M a r c u s e gives a suggestive i f sketchy a c c o u n t o f s e x u a l p e r v e r s i o n s , w h i c h c l e a r l y interest h i m greatly. H e regards t h e m as b o t h a n effect o f r e p r e s s i o n a n d a challenge to it i n the n a m e o f a ' f u l l e r E r o s ' . Because they represent a r e b e l l i o n against the s u b j u g a t i o n o f s e x u a l i t y , they h a v e r e v o l u t i o n a r y p o t e n t i a l — a n d t h i s , s e e m i n g l y , because a n d n o t i n spite o f their i n t i m a c y w i t h the d e a t h i n s t i n c t (Eros and Civilization,

p p . 171, 2 0 2 — 3 ;

s e e

a

^

s o

PP- 49~5 -> 9-> 4 ^ ) z

io

I

9 T h i s has p r o v e d to be one o f the m o s t c o n t r o v e r s i a l aspects o f M a r c u s e ' s p h i l o s o p h y . In The Crisis of Psychoanalysis

Erich F r o m m pronounces Marcuse

a v i c t i m o f n e u r o s i s a n d p s y c h o s i s . L i k e s o m e avant-garde artists, f r o m de Sade o n w a r d s , M a r c u s e is a t t r a c t e d by ' i n f a n t i l e r e g r e s s i o n , p e r v e r s i o n a n d . . . d e s t r u c t i o n a n d hate'; by 'the refusal to g r o w u p , to separate f u l l y f r o m the

346

NOTES TO PAGES

232.-234

mother a n d soil, a n d to experience fully sexual pleasure'. In short, M a r c u s e 'glorifies the m o r b i d i t y o f the society he w a n t s t o c h a n g e ' . I n the p r o c e s s , c l a i m s F r o m m , he c o n s t r u c t s a F r e u d i a n t h e o r y w h i c h is the c o m p l e t e o p p o s i t e o f a l l t h a t is essential i n F r e u d ' s t h i n k i n g (pp. 2 9 - 3 0 ) . A m o r e s y m p a t h e t i c a n d p e r c e p tive c r i t i c , M o r t o n S c h o o l m a n , r e p r o v e s M a r c u s e f o r c e l e b r a t i n g the d e a t h i n s t i n c t a n d p r o p o s i n g a U t o p i a w h i c h entails ' m e n t a l d e a t h o f the i n d i v i d u a l ' ; f o r a t t e m p t i n g t o r e d u c e the c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n eros a n d t h a n a t o s i n a w a y w h i c h a c t u a l l y b r i n g s life 'even m o r e securely w i t h i n the o r b i t o f d e a t h ' (The Witness,

pp.

II2,

Imaginary

II6).

Chapter

I6

I N i e t z s c h e celebrates the R e n a i s s a n c e as 'the last great age' (Twilight,

pp. 9I,

98). B u t , as w e h a v e seen, t h a t p e r i o d i n c l u d e d s o m e t h i n g l i k e the d e c a d e n t v i s i o n N i e t s z c h e despises. T h o s e l i k e W a l t e r R a l e g h w h o w o u l d p r e s u m a b l y q u a l i f y as N i e t z s c h e ' s i d e a l t y p e o f great m a n , f u l l o f the w i l l t o p o w e r , w e r e o f t e n those w h o e x p r e s s e d the m u t a b i l i t y aesthetic m o s t s t r o n g l y , a n d its c o n c o m i t a n t d e a t h w a r d v i s i o n . N i e t z s c h e ' s v i e w o f the R e n a i s s a n c e is a s i m p l i s t i c r e c o n s t r u c t i o n w h i c h e l i m i n a t e s a n o b v i o u s p a r a d o x a b o u t i t , n a m e l y t h a t the m u t a b i l i t y aesthetic a n d even the d e a t h - w i s h m a y emerge f r o m a n energetic e n c o u n t e r w i t h the r e a l ; i n N i e t z s c h e ' s t e r m s , the w i l l t o p o w e r , even as it aspires t o t r a n s c e n d a n d a b o l i s h decadence,

a l s o helps t o generate i t .

2 F r e u d , w h o (implausibly) denied that Nietzsche h a d i n any w a y influenced h i m , a l s o ( a c c o r d i n g t o E r n e s t Jones) s a i d several t i m e s o f N i e t z s c h e t h a t he ' h a d a m o r e p e n e t r a t i n g k n o w l e d g e o f h i m s e l f t h a n a n y o t h e r m a n w h o ever l i v e d o r w h o w a s l i k e l y t o l i v e ' ( J o n e s , II.385). 3 It is a p p a r e n t f r o m N i e t z s c h e ' s letters t h a t he e x p e r i e n c e d t r a n s i e n c e a n d m u t a b i l i t y i n t e n s e l y . S o m e t i m e s he m o c k s h i m s e l f f o r d o i n g so (Letters,

ed. Levy,

p . 57); he also w r i t e s p e r c e p t i v e l y o f a g e i n g , loss a n d d e a t h : T o grow o l d and to grow solitary seem to be synonymous, and at last a man is all alone and makes others feel lonely by his death. T h e curtain falls on our past when our mother dies; it is then for the first time that our childhood and youth become nothing more than a memory. A n d then the same process extends; the friends of our youth, our teachers, our ideals of those days, all die, and every day we grow more lonely, and ever colder breezes blow about us. (pp. 89—90, I32) T h e s a m e t h o u g h t s r e c u r - ' e v e r y t h i n g is over, it is the past, f o r b e a r a n c e '

(Letters,

e d . M i d d l e t o n , p . 220). B u t there is a c o m p e n s a t i n g e m p o w e r m e n t i n w r i t i n g ; i n the same letter, r e f e r r i n g t o h i s Zarathustra,

he i n q u i r e s w h e t h e r ' v i g o u r ,

flexibility

a n d e u p h o n y h a v e ever c o n s o r t e d so w e l l i n o u r l a n g u a g e ' (p. 2 2 I ) . 4 I n the s e c t i o n ' O f R e d e m p t i o n ' i n Thus Spake Zarathustra, t o his d i s c i p l e s a n d ' w i t h p r o f o u n d i l l - h u m o u r ' declares:

347

Z a r a t h u s t r a turns

NOTES TO PAGES

239-243

A n d it is all my art and aim, to compose into one and bring together what is fragment and riddle and dreadful chance . . . T o redeem the past and to transform every 'It was' into an 'I wanted it thus!' - that alone do I call redemption! . . . W i l l i n g liberates: but what is it that fastens in fetters even the liberator? 'It was': that is what the will's teeth-gnashing and most lonely melancholy is called. Powerless against that which has been done, the w i l l is an angry spectator of all things past. The will cannot will backwards; that it cannot break time and time's desire - that is the will's most lonely

melancholy.

Because o f its i n a b i l i t y t o ' b r e a k t i m e ' s desire', the w i l l takes revenge ' o n a l l t h a t c a n suffer' (Zarathustra,

trans. H o l l i n g d a l e , p p . I 6 I - 2 ; my emphasis).

5 E l l i o t t Z u c k e r m a n finds that ' R e n u n c i a t i o n i n o n e f o r m o r a n o t h e r r u n s t h r o u g h a l l W a g n e r ' s w o r k f r o m The Flying Dutchman

t o Parsifal.

T h e D u t c h m a n gains

r e d e m p t i o n , a c c o r d i n g t o W a g n e r ' s e x p l a n a t i o n o f the p l o t , " t h r o u g h a

woman

w h o s h a l l sacrifice herself f o r the l o v e o f h i m . T h u s it is the y e a r n i n g f o r d e a t h t h a t spurs h i m o n t o seek this w o m a n " ' (p. 34). 6 F e u e r b a c h ' s Thoughts

on Death

and Immortality

w a s a significant influence

f o r W a g n e r before S c h o p e n h a u e r - so m u c h so that the c o m p o s e r dedicates his The

Art

Work

of the Future

t o F e u e r b a c h . See I r v i n g Singer, The

Nature

of

Love, II.472—6. T h e r e are o t h e r influences: W a g n e r r e g a r d e d C h r i s t i a n i t y i n its p u r e a n d u n a l l o y e d f o r m - u n c o n t a m i n a t e d b y ' n a r r o w - h e a r t e d J u d a i s m ' - as n o t h i n g b u t a b r a n c h o f B u d d h i s m , o f w h i c h , i n e a r l y C h r i s t i a n i t y , w e s t i l l see d i s t i n c t traces, i n c l u d i n g the desire f o r the e x t i n c t i o n o f the i n d i v i d u a l p e r s o n a l i t y . A c c o r d i n g to W a g n e r , the early C h r i s t i a n s desired e x t i n c t i o n (Wagner and Drama,

on

Music

pp. 277-8).

7 T h e first c h o r d o f Tristan

c o n t a i n s t w o d i s s o n a n c e s , one o f w h i c h is t h e n

r e s o l v e d , the o t h e r n o t . T h r o u g h o u t the piece the l o n g i n g f o r the r e s o l u t i o n o f d i s c o r d is p a r t i a l l y satisfied a n d p a r t i a l l y n o t — 'the entire w o r k is a sort o f m u s i c a l e q u i v a l e n t o f S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s d o c t r i n e that existence is a n i n h e r e n t l y unsatisfiable w e b o f l o n g i n g s , w i l l i n g s a n d strivings f r o m w h i c h the o n l y p e r m a nent l i b e r a t i o n is the cessation o f b e i n g ' ( B r y a n M a g e e , The

Philosophy

Schopenhauer,

the t r a d i t i o n a l

p . 356). M a g e e also p o i n t s o u t that i n Tristan

of

s y m b o l i s m o f n i g h t a n d d a y is i n v e r t e d : d a y is the w o r l d o f a p p e a r a n c e a n d i l l u s i o n , n i g h t o f u l t i m a t e t r u t h , timeless r e a l i t y - i.e. d e a t h (p. 3 6 I ) . 8 I n I 8 8 I , w r i t i n g to G a s t , N i e t z s c h e says o f his o w n w o r k s , 'there is s o m e t h i n g i n [them] that a l w a y s fills me w i t h a sense o f s h a m e ; they are counterfeits o f a suffering i m p e r f e c t n a t u r e ' . E l s e w h e r e he speaks o f b e i n g a s h a m e d to reveal the extent o f his p a i n (Letters,

e d . L e v y , p p . I 2 3 , I 4 0 , 2 I 7 ) . In his letters he also

w r i t e s f r e q u e n t l y o f loneliness ( t h o u g h a c c e p t i n g it as a c o n d i t i o n o f his a p p o i n t e d t a s k ) , a n d he i n c r e a s i n g l y c o m p l a i n s o f the neglect of, a n d c o n t e m p t f o r , his w o r k by those w h o s e o p i n i o n he elsewhere says he despises. In I883 to G a s t :

348

NOTES TO PAGES

244-

O u t of a veritable abyss of the most undeserved and most enduring contempt in which the whole of my work and endeavour has lain since the year I876, I long for a w o r d of wisdom concerning myself, (p. I62) H e confesses i n a n o t h e r letter ten days later t h a t he is s u c c u m b i n g t o a feeling f o r w h i c h he has c o n t e m p t : r e s e n t m e n t (p. I 6 2 ; cf. p . 208). F o r a l l his r e n u n c i a t i o n , he s t i l l aspires t o be the l e a d i n g p h i l o s o p h e r o f the age - a n d m o r e (p. 2 I 8 ) . H e does his best w o r k a n d c o m e s m o s t a l i v e o n c l e a r d a y s i n w i n t e r , a n d c o m p l a i n s a b o u t the p a i n o f s p r i n g , a l m o s t as i f s t i m u l u s t o l i b i d o , i n the w i d e s t sense, is dangerous: spring attacks me unconsciously; I dare not tell you into what abyss of despair I sink under its influence. M y body (and my philosophy, too, for that matter), feels the cold to be its appointed preservative element - that sounds paradoxical and negative, but it is the most thoroughly demonstrated fact of my life. (p. I99; Letters, ed. M i d d l e t o n , p. 267) 9 N i e t z s c h e ' s c h r o n i c illnesses i n c l u d e d e x h a u s t i o n a n d d e p r e s s i o n . I n

I883

he

tells h i s sister t h a t he is l o w - s p i r i t e d f o r at least eight m o n t h s i n the y e a r . Shall I ever attain to inner freedom? It is very doubtful. The goal is too remote, and even if one gets within measurable distance of it, one has by that time consumed all one's strength in a long search and struggle. W h e n freedom is at last attained, one is as lifeless and feeble as a day-fly by night. . . For the moment I am really very very tired of everything - more than tired. M y health, by-the-bye, is excellent. (Letters, ed. Levy, p. 96) In I882 he speaks o f d e p r e s s i o n a n d ' w e a r i n e s s w i t h l i f e ' o v e r c o m e o n l y b y h i s w r i t i n g (Letters,

e d . M i d d l e t o n , p . I46). S o m e m o n t h s before h i s final b r e a k d o w n

i n J a n u a r y I889 he w r i t e s o f b e i n g ' e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y depressed a n d m e l a n c h o l y ' (Letters,

e d . L e v y , p . 236). In the c o n t e x t o f r e m a r k s a b o u t B u d d h i s m , he a d d s :

T h e conviction that life is valueless and that all goals are illusory impresses itself on me so strongly, especially when I am sick in bed, that I need to hear more about it, but not mixed w i t h Judaeo-Christian phraseology. (Letters, ed. M i d d l e t o n , p. I39) I n I884: ' A h , d e a r f r i e n d , w h a t a n a b s u r d l y silent life I l e a d ! So m u c h a l o n e , so m u c h a l o n e ! So " c h i l d l e s s " ' (Letters,

e d . L e v y , p . I74).

I0 I believe N i e t z s c h e e x p e r i e n c e d intense h o m o e r o t i c desire, a n d t h a t this is p a r t l y w h a t he is s p e a k i n g a b o u t i n a letter t o his sister i n I866 a b o u t the l o n e l i n e s s o f the i n t e l l e c t u a l u n a b l e t o c o m m u n i c a t e his t h o u g h t s ; he speaks o f him who is 'different'; who has never met anyone who precisely belonged to h i m , although he has sought well on all sorts of roads; who in his relationship to his fellows always had to practise a sort of considerate and cheerful dissimulation in the hope of assimilating himself to them, often with success . . . S o m e t i m e s , t o o , he has g i v e n v e n t to

349

NOTES TO PAGES

245-252

those dangerous, heartrending outbursts of all his concealed misery, of all the longings he has not yet stifled, of all his surging and tumultuous streams of love . . . J u s t as p a i n f u l is the sudden madness of those moments when the lonely man embraces one that seems to his taste and treats him as a friend, as a Heaven-sent blessing and precious gift, only to thrust h i m from him with loathing an hour later, and with loathing too for himself . . . A deep man needs friends. (Letters, ed. Levy, p. I83) C o m p a r e this letter f r o m the f o l l o w i n g year: W h o has ever approached me with even a thousandth part of my passion and my suffering! Has anyone even an inkling of the real cause of my prolonged ill-health over which I may even yet prevail? I am now forty-three and am just as much alone now as I was as a child, (p. 205; Letters, ed. M i d d l e t o n , p. 276) II A n d yet he never s t o p p e d w a n t i n g a c o m p l e t e l y r a d i c a l i n s t i t u t i o n f o r

truth',

one necessarily s u b v e r s i v e , a n d i n w a y s that i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d u n i v e r s i t y life c a n never be (Letters,

ed. M i d d l e t o n , p . 73). W h a t he a p p r o v e s i n H i p p o l y t e T a i n e ,

he s t r o n g l y w a n t s f o r h i m s e l f : 'reckless c o u r a g e . . . a b s o l u t e l y sincere i n t e l l e c t u a l conscience . . . s t i r r i n g a n d m o d e s t s t o i c i s m a m i d acute p r i v a t i o n s a n d i s o l a t i o n ' . T h e effort w a s d i f f i c u l t , often u n e n d u r a b l e ; to G a s t a g a i n , i n I883: T o r , t r u t h to t e l l , I a m well nigh crushed I2 T h o m a s M a n n , Last Essays,

to death'

(Letters,

ed. L e v y , p p . 2 0 I , I 6 I ) .

pp. I 6 2 - 8 , writes perceptively and persuasively

o n N i e t z s c h e ' s r h e t o r i c o f w a r , a n d his r e l a t i o n s h i p to f a s c i s m a n d N a z i s m .

Chapter

I7

I I m p o r t a n t l y , B a t a i l l e stresses that c u l t u r a l p r o h i b i t i o n s are v a r i a b l e a n d a l w a y s a r b i t r a r i l y defined: ' w h a t d i s t u r b s one m a n leaves a n o t h e r i n d i f f e r e n t , a n d , w h a t is m o r e , the same i n d i v i d u a l that s u c h a n object lacerates one d a y is i n d i f f e r e n t the n e x t ' . H u m a n life is r e g u l a t e d by the fact o f p r o h i b i t i o n , n o t b y this o r t h a t p a r t i c u l a r p r o h i b i t i o n (Accursed 2 C f . Erotism:

Share, II.54, 6 9 , I 5 I ) .

' T h e w i s h to p r o d u c e at cut-prices is n i g g a r d l y a n d h u m a n .

H u m a n i t y keeps t o the n a r r o w c a p i t a l i s t p r i n c i p l e . . .' (p. 60). 3 H e r e the influence o f H e g e l , v i a K o j e v e , is decisive; see esp. B a t a i l l e ' s ' H e g e l , D e a t h a n d Sacrifice'. 4 B a t a i l l e c o n t e n d s that the recent h i s t o r y o f a progressive b u t s l o w l i f t i n g o f s e x u a l p r o h i b i t i o n s changes n o t h i n g i n this r e g a r d . F o r e x a m p l e , 'the s h a m e c o n n e c t e d w i t h the e x c r e m e n t a l orifices o r f u n c t i o n s w o u l d s t i l l testify t o the d i v o r c e b e t w e e n m a n a n d n a t u r e ' , a n d this ' i n d e l i b l e s h a m e ' w i l l a l w a y s transfer across t o the adjacent d o m a i n o f the r e p r o d u c t i v e o r g a n s . H e cites A u g u s t i n e — ' i n t e r faeces et u r i n a m n a s c i m u r ' : ' w e are b o r n b e t w e e n (Accursed

Share, II.62).

350

faeces a n d u r i n e '

NOTES TO PAGES

252-267

5 It is a l s o true t o say t h a t F r e u d elsewhere p r o v i d e s the terms o f B a t a i l l e ' s o w n a c c o u n t o f the d i a l e c t i c b e t w e e n desire a n d r e p r e s s i o n . 6 B a t a i l l e cites de Sade a p p r o v i n g l y , t h o u g h w i t h h e s i t a t i o n : ' T h e r e is n o better w a y t o k n o w d e a t h t h a n to l i n k i t w i t h s o m e l i c e n t i o u s i m a g e ' (Erotism,

p.

II).

7 E r o t i c i s m destroys the s e l f - c o n t a i n e d c h a r a c t e r o f its p r a c t i t i o n e r s , a n d so r a d i c a l l y t h a t ' i n essence, the d o m a i n o f e r o t i c i s m is the d o m a i n o f v i o l e n c e , o f v i o l a t i o n . . . W h a t does p h y s i c a l e r o t i c i s m signify i f n o t a v i o l a t i o n o f the v e r y beings o f its p r a c t i t i o n e r s ? - a v i o l a t i o n b o r d e r i n g o n d e a t h , b o r d e r i n g o n m u r d e r ' . A n d ' d e a t h opens the w a y t o the d e n i a l o f o u r i n d i v i d u a l lives. W i t h o u t d o i n g v i o l e n c e t o o u r i n n e r selves, are w e able t o bear a n e g a t i o n that carries us t o the furthest b o u n d s o f p o s s i b i l i t y ? ' (Erotism,

p p . I 6 - I 7 , 24).

8 ' P r i m a r y a n g u i s h b o u n d u p w i t h s e x u a l d i s t u r b a n c e signifies d e a t h '

(Erotism,

p . I04).

Chapter I See L a w r e n c e ' s Movements 2 C f . Women

in Love:

in European

I8 History,

p . 262.

' T h e last i m p u l s e s o f the last r e l i g i o u s p a s s i o n left o n

e a r t h , the p a s s i o n f o r e q u a l i t y , i n s p i r e d t h e m ' (p. 253). 3 I n a n o t h e r letter, w r i t t e n three days l a t e r , L a w r e n c e a d m i t s to h a v i n g f o u n d i n M a r i n e t t i ' s o m e t h i n g o f w h a t I a m after', n a m e l y t h a t the ' n o n - h u m a n , i n h u m a n i t y , is m o r e i n t e r e s t i n g to m e t h a n the o l d - f a s h i o n e d h u m a n element

-

w h i c h causes o n e t o c o n c e i v e a c h a r a c t e r i n a c e r t a i n m o r a l scheme a n d m a k e h i m c o n s i s t e n t ' . A r e m a r k f r o m later i n the same letter - ' Y o u m u s t n ' t l o o k i n m y n o v e l f o r the o l d stable ego - o f the c h a r a c t e r ' - is often c i t e d b y those w h o , w a n t i n g t o a s s i m i l a t e L a w r e n c e t o a (now) respectable m o d e r n i s t a n t i - e s s e n t i a l i s m o f c h a r a c t e r , leave o u t the a c c o m p a n y i n g r e m a r k s a b o u t M a r i n e t t i . L a w r e n c e c o n t i n u e s , ' T h e r e is a n o t h e r ego,

a c c o r d i n g to w h o s e a c t i o n the i n d i v i d u a l is

u n r e c o g n i s a b l e , a n d passes t h r o u g h , as it w e r e , a l l o t r o p i c states w h i c h it needs a deeper sense t h a n a n y w e ' v e been used t o exercise, t o d i s c o v e r are states o f the same single r a d i c a l l y u n c h a n g e d e l e m e n t ' (Letters,

II. I 8 I - 3 ) . W h a t d i s r u p t the

o l d stable ego are f u n d a m e n t a l , u n c h a n g i n g , n o n - h u m a n forces. F o r B i r k i n , i n Women

in Love,

s u c h forces r e n d e r h u m a n i t y i n s i g n i f i c a n t : ' L e t m a n k i n d pass

a w a y - t i m e it d i d . . . H u m a n i t y is a d e a d letter' (p. 65). 4 In The Rainbow

S k r e b e n s k y is d e s c r i b e d as h a v i n g r e t u r n e d f r o m , a n d p e r h a p s

h a v i n g been c o r r u p t e d b y , a n A f r i c a o f d a r k n e s s , w h e r e every l i f e - f o r m seeks its o w n a n n i h i l a t i o n i n the very excessiveness o f its ' u r g e n t . . . f e c u n d d e s i r e ' . T h i s is w h a t he b r i n g s to U r s u l a : ' G r a d u a l l y he t r a n s f e r r e d t o her the h o t , f e c u n d d a r k n e s s t h a t possessed his o w n b l o o d . H e w a s strangely secret. T h e

whole

w o r l d m u s t be a b o l i s h e d . ' S k r e b e n s k y kisses U r s u l a ' a n d she q u i v e r e d as as i f she w e r e b e i n g d e s t r o y e d , s h a t t e r e d ' . She r e s p o n d s c o m p l e t e l y , ' h e r m i n d , h e r s o u l gone o u t ' (pp. 4 4 6 - 7 ) .

35I

NOTES TO PAGES

Chapter IThis

275-285

I9

is a r e n e w e d p r e o c c u p a t i o n i n the 1990s; see f o r e x a m p l e High

Writings

on Sex, Death

and Subversion,

Risk

2:

w h o s e e d i t o r s , A m y S c h o l d e r a n d I. S i l -

v e r b e r g , r e m a r k that m a n y o f t h e i r c o n t r i b u t o r s 'are p r e o c c u p i e d w i t h d e a t h , m o r t a l i t y , s u i c i d e , a n d the d i s i n t e g r a t i o n o f the b o d y . . . B u t w h a t is c e n t r a l here is sex's r e l a t i o n s h i p t o d e a t h : i n s o m e cases m o r b i d , i n s o m e cases, elegiac' ( I n t r o d u c t i o n ) . 2 N o t s u r p r i s i n g l y , S c h o p e n h a u e r ' s w o r k w a s the single m o s t i m p o r t a n t intellect u a l influence o n W a g n e r , w h i l e S c h o p e n h a u e r a n d W a g n e r w e r e also t w o o f N i e t z s c h e ' s m o s t i m p o r t a n t early influences, a l t h o u g h he subsequently

reacted

v e h e m e n t l y against w h a t he r e g a r d e d as the 'decadence' o f t h e i r d e a t h w a r d v i s i o n o f desire - see a b o v e , C h a p t e r

I6.

3 I n his essay o n F r e u d , M a n n r e m a r k s that the m o r b i d m e n t a l state associated w i t h disease is the i n s t r u m e n t o f p r o f o u n d k n o w l e d g e n o t o n l y f o r the artist a n d the p h i l o s o p h e r , but also f o r the p s y c h o a n a l y s t , w h o discovers the t r u t h o f h u m a n n a t u r e t h r o u g h a b n o r m a l i t y a n d neurosis (Essays,

p. 4I4).

4 M o s t o f the f o l l o w i n g references to Dr Faustus

are f r o m the t r a n s l a t i o n by

L o w e - P o r t e r . T h i s is the o n l y c u r r e n t l y a v a i l a b l e E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n o f the n o v e l , b u t is n o t e n t i r e l y r e l i a b l e - o n this a n d o t h e r s h o r t c o m i n g s o f L o w e - P o r t e r ' s t r a n s l a t i o n s o f M a n n , see D a v i d L u k e ' s i n t r o d u c t i o n t o M a n n ' s Selected

Stories,

p p . x l v i i - H i , a n d T i m o t h y B u c k , ' N e i t h e r the L e t t e r n o r the S p i r i t ' , Times

Literary

Supplement,

I3

O c t o b e r I995, p . I7.

5 A l l c i t a t i o n s o f Death 6 Beyond

the Pleasure

in Venice Principle,

are o f the t r a n s l a t i o n by D a v i d L u k e . w h e r e F r e u d d e v e l o p e d the idea o f the d e a t h

d r i v e , a p p e a r e d i n I920 - some eight years after Death

in

Venice.

7 F o r a s i n g l e - m i n d e d p s y c h o a n a l y t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f this type, see H e i n z K o h u t , ' D e a t h i n V e n i c e : A S t o r y A b o u t the D i s i n t e g r a t i o n o f A r t i s t i c S u b l i m a t i o n ' . 8 It seems he p l a n n e d a n d p o s s i b l y p a r t - w r o t e a m o r e l y r i c a l , affirmative t r e a t m e n t o f A s c h e n b a c h ' s h o m o e r o t i c desire - one e x p l i c i t l y s a n c t i o n e d by even m o r e extensive

a n d precise

P l a t o n i c a l l u s i o n . It e n a b l e d

Mann

t o describe

the

project i n I9II as 'serious a n d p u r e i n t o n e , t r e a t i n g the case o f an e l d e r l y artist's p a s s i o n f o r a b o y . " H m , h m ! " , y o u say. B u t it is a l l very p r o p e r ' (cited i n R e e d , p . I50). 9 M o s t enthusiastically

by A n t h o n y H e i l b u t i n Thomas

Mann:

Eros

and

Literature. I0 B u t , c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y , i n the same letter M a n n cites Blüher's d e f i n i t i o n o f eros as the ' a f f i r m a t i o n o f a h u m a n b e i n g , irrespective o f his w o r t h ' , a d d i n g t h a t , a l t h o u g h this d e f i n i t i o n ' c o m p r e h e n d s a l l the i r o n y o f eros', the m o r a l i s t replies ' n o t h a n k s ! ' C o m p a r e the d i s t r u s t f u l r e m a r k i n Death

in Venice: ' i n a l m o s t every

artistic n a t u r e is i n b o r n a w a n t o n a n d treacherous proneness t o side w i t h the beauty that breaks hearts, to single o u t a r i s t o c r a t i c pretensions a n d p a y t h e m h o m a g e ' (pp. 2 7 - 8 ) . O n Blüher, see G e o r g e M o s s e , Nationalism p p . 5 6 - 8 , a n d R i c h a r d P l a n t , The Pink Triangle,

352

pp. 4 2 - 3 .

and

Sexuality,

I

NOTES TO PAGES

286-295

II M a n n is p e r c e p t i v e o n the w a y t h a t the d i s a v o w a l o f i n t e l l e c t is itself i n e s c a p a b l y i n t e l l e c t u a l (Reflections,

pp. 4I9-20).

I2 ' V e n i c e attracts m e , i n d e e d , it has m a d e m e forget m y w h o l e e a r l i e r life a n d deeds so t h a t I f i n d m y s e l f i n a present w i t h o u t p a s t . . . I find, o n the o t h e r h a n d , h o w l i t t l e I t a l y c a n be h o m e t o a G e r m a n , as it w e r e , h o w his w h o l e n a t u r e changes a n d h o w t h o u g h t l e s s m y life seems at this t i m e ' (cited i n A l d r i c h , Seduction

of the Mediterranean,

The

p . 66).

I3 C f . T o n y T a n n e r : ' F r o m the A s c h e n b a c h - M u n i c h p o i n t o f v i e w , V e n i c e is a n o r i e n t a l c i t y w h e r e the E a s t m o r e t h a n meets the W e s t - r a t h e r , penetrates, suffuses, c o n t a m i n a t e s a n d u n d e r m i n e s it . . . V e n i c e is n o t o r i o u s l y a site w h e r e o p p o s i t e s b e g i n t o b l u r a n d d i s t i n c t i o n s fade' (pp. 354, 356). I4 C o m p a r e d w i t h o n e o f his sources, E u r i p i d e s ' The Bacchae,

M a n n m i g h t be

s a i d t o h a v e t r i e d t o d e m o n i z e s o m e o f his best i n s i g h t s . The Bacchae

is a terse

a n d b r i l l i a n t d r a m a t i z a t i o n o f the perverse d y n a m i c , the a u t h o r i t a r i a n Pentheus b e i n g d e s t r o y e d f r o m w i t h i n b y the self-same forces he seeks t o define a n d suppress as o t h e r . O n t h i s , see C e d r i c W a t t s ' s b r i e f , i l l u m i n a t i n g r e a d i n g o f M a n n ' s indebtedness t o E u r i p i d e s i n The Deceptive I5 See H e i l b u t , Thomas M a n n ' s Selected Stories,

Mann,

pp. x x x i v - x x x v i .

Chapter In

I954,

Text, p p . 1 6 7 - 7 5 .

p p . 2 4 6 - 9 , a n d D a v i d L u k e ' s i n t r o d u c t i o n to

20

w r i t i n g a b o u t G i d e , B a l d w i n h a d d e c l a r e d t h a t 'the r e a l l y h o r r i b l e

t h i n g a b o u t the p h e n o m e n o n o f present-day h o m o s e x u a l i t y . . . is t h a t t o d a y ' s u n l u c k y d e v i a t e c a n o n l y save h i m s e l f b y the m o s t t r e m e n d o u s e x e r t i o n o f a l l his forces f r o m f a l l i n g i n t o a n u n d e r w o r l d i n w h i c h he never meets either m e n o r w o m e n , w h e r e i t is i m p o s s i b l e t o h a v e either a l o v e r o r a f r i e n d , w h e r e the p o s s i b i l i t y o f g e n u i n e h u m a n i n v o l v e m e n t has altogether ceased' (Nobody My Name,

Knows

p. I3I).

2 H o c q u e n g h e m r e s p o n d s w i t h a s e x u a l r a d i c a l i s m w h i c h is e q u a l l y o f its t i m e : ' W e c o u l d say t h a t o n the c o n t r a r y h o m o s e x u a l l o v e is i m m e n s e l y s u p e r i o r , p r e c i s e l y because a n y t h i n g is p o s s i b l e at a n y m o m e n t ' ; this is a p r o m i s c u o u s l o v e ' u n a w a r e o f the l a w o f e x c l u s i v e d i s j u n c t i o n ' , a ' m e c h a n i c a l s c a t t e r i n g [ w h i c h ] c o r r e s p o n d s t o the m o d e o f existence o f desire i t s e l f (p. 97). 3 I n a n i n t e r v i e w c o n d u c t e d s o m e m o n t h s before his o w n d e a t h f r o m A I D S , H a s e l d e n reflected o n the c o n t r o v e r s y this a r t i c l e c a u s e d - see G a r f i e l d , p p . 1 2 - 2 5 . 4 D a v i d R e v i l l is also w o r r i e d b y gay p r o m i s c u i t y , b u t o p t s t o o easily f o r a s o c i a l - c o n s t r u c t i o n i s t r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n o f it: he speaks o f the extent t o w h i c h p r o m i s c u i t y i n gay c u l t u r e — ' t h a t c a s u a l , faceless v o r a c i o u s n e s s ' — 'stems n o t f r o m s e x u a l o r i e n t a t i o n , b u t has m o r e t o d o w i t h h o w m a l e desire i n g e n e r a l is c o n s t r u c t e d a n d c o n s t r u e d i n e x p l o i t a t i v e w a y s ' (Times Supplement,

Higher

Education

5 M a y I 9 8 9 , p . 2 I ) . D o u g l a s C r i m p gives a c o n t r a r y a c c o u n t o f gay

p r o m i s c u i t y : ' O u r p r o m i s c u i t y t a u g h t us m a n y t h i n g s , n o t o n l y a b o u t the pleasures

353

NOTES TO PAGES

299-307

o f sex, b u t a b o u t the great m u l t i p l i c i t y o f those pleasures. It is that p s y c h i c p r e p a r a t i o n , that e x p e r i m e n t a t i o n , that c o n s c i o u s w o r k o n o u r o w n sexualities that has a l l o w e d m a n y o f us to change o u r s e x u a l b e h a v i o r s . . .' S o , against the c l a i m that p r o m i s c u i t y w i l l destroy the gay c o m m u n i t y , C r i m p insists ' i n fact it is our promiscuity

that will save us' F u r t h e r , ' a l l those w h o c o n t e n d that gay

m a l e p r o m i s c u i t y is merely s e x u a l compulsion

r e s u l t i n g f r o m fear o f i n t i m a c y

are n o w faced w i t h very s t r o n g evidence against their prej udices. F o r i f c o m p u l s i o n w e r e so easily o v e r c o m e o r r e d i r e c t e d , it w o u l d h a r d l y deserve the n a m e ' ( ' H o w to H a v e P r o m i s c u i t y i n an E p i d e m i c ' , p . 253). C f . A n d r e w L u m s d e n : 'as I've k n o w n i t , m e n are never so peaceful, so u n v i o l e n t ( p h y s i c a l l y a n d e m o t i o n a l l y ) , so graceful w i t h each o t h e r (no m a t t e r h o w " c r u d e " the act) as they are - as w e are - w h e n c o n t e n t to take each other w i t h o u t the a d d i t i o n o f n a m e s , o r beds, o r flats, o r even o f any clear i m p r e s s i o n o f one a n o t h e r ' s l o o k s ' (Gay News,

no.

235, 4 - I 7 M a r c h I982, p . I7). 5 C o m p a r e G u y H o c q u e n g h e m : ' H o m o s e x u a l desire is neither o n the side o f d e a t h n o r o n the side o f life; it is the k i l l e r o f c i v i l i z e d egos' (p. I36). A c t u a l l y , the fire-consciousness o f R u m a k e r ' s n a r r a t o r t u r n s o u t to be justified, the b o o k c o n c l u d i n g w i t h a d e d i c a t i o n to the v i c t i m s o f a n a c t u a l fire i n the very b a t h h o u s e w h i c h is its subject: A n d , out of the ashes and ruin of all despair, and in spite of it, to the spirit of the rainbow gay and lesbian phoenix, rising. F u n d a m e n t a l i s t s c o u l d h a r d l y resist seeing the fire as p r o v i d e n t i a l i n t e r v e n t i o n , a d i v i n e p u n i s h m e n t f o r s e x u a l e v i l , the secular e q u i v a l e n t o f b u r n i n g i n h e l l . E v e n a gay-identified perspective, w h i l e o b v i o u s l y a n d v i g o r o u s l y d i s s e n t i n g f r o m that v i e w , m i g h t see the fire as h a v i n g m o r e resonant i m p l i c a t i o n s , be they s y m b o l i c , i r o n i c o r s o c i o - p o l i t i c a l . B u t n o t R u m a k e r : even that a c t u a l fire c a n be c o l l e c t e d i n t o a b a n a l n a r r a t i v e o f r e d e m p t i o n . 6 A n d yet o n e o f F o u c a u l t ' s m o s t n o t o r i o u s m e t a p h o r s f o r the d e a t h o f m a n is so t r a d i t i o n a l as to suggest that b e y o n d ' h i m ' is o n l y the silence o f i n a n i m a t e nature: ' M a n is an i n v e n t i o n o f recent date' s o o n to be 'erased, l i k e a face d r a w n i n s a n d at the edge o f the sea' (The

Order

of Things,

p. 387).

7 C f . ' O n e m u s t give rise to t h o u g h t as intensive i r r e g u l a r i t y - d i s i n t e g r a t i o n o f the subject' ( F o u c a u l t , Language,

p . I83).

8 C f . 'the experience o f i n d i v i d u a l i t y i n m o d e r n c u l t u r e is b o u n d u p w i t h that o f d e a t h : f r o m H ö l d e r l i n ' s E m p e d o c l e s to N i e t z s c h e ' s Z a r a t h u s t r a , a n d o n to F r e u d i a n m a n , a n o b s t i n a t e r e l a t i o n to d e a t h prescribes the u n i v e r s a l its s i n g u l a r face, a n d lends to each i n d i v i d u a l the p o w e r o f b e i n g h e a r d for ever; the i n d i v i d u a l o w e s to d e a t h a m e a n i n g w h i c h does n o t cease w i t h h i m . T h e d i v i s i o n that it traces a n d the finitude w h o s e m a r k it imposes l i n k , p a r a d o x i c a l l y , the u n i v e r s a l i t y o f language a n d the p r e c a r i o u s , i r r e p l a c e a b l e f o r m o f the i n d i v i d u a l ' ( F o u c a u l t , Birth of the Clinic,

p . I97).

354

NOTES TO PAGES

308-325

9 C f . ' H e a d e d t o w a r d d e a t h , l a n g u a g e t u r n s b a c k u p o n itself; it e n c o u n t e r s s o m e t h i n g l i k e a m i r r o r ; a n d t o stop this d e a t h w h i c h w o u l d stop i t , it possesses b u t a single p o w e r : t h a t o f g i v i n g b i r t h t o its o w n i m a g e i n a p l a y o f m i r r o r s t h a t has n o l i m i t s . F r o m the d e p t h s o f the m i r r o r w h e r e it sets o u t t o a r r i v e a n e w at the p o i n t w h e r e it s t a r t e d (at d e a t h ) , b u t so as f i n a l l y t o escape d e a t h , a n o t h e r l a n g u a g e c a n be h e a r d - the i m a g e o f a c t u a l l a n g u a g e , b u t as a m i n u s c u l e , i n t e r i o r , a n d v i r t u a l m o d e l ; it is the s o n g o f the b a r d w h o has a l r e a d y s u n g o f U l y s s e s before the Odyssey

a n d before U l y s s e s h i m s e l f (since U l y s s e s hears the song),

b u t w h o w i l l a l s o s i n g o f h i m endlessly after his d e a t h (since, f o r the b a r d , U l y s s e s is a l r e a d y as g o o d as d e a d ) ; a n d U l y s s e s , w h o is a l i v e , receives this s o n g as a w i f e receives h e r s l a i n h u s b a n d ' ( F o u c a u l t , Language,

pp. 54-5).

I0 F o u c a u l t a p p a r e n t l y l a m e n t e d the fact t h a t c r i t i c s o f The History

of

Sexuality

w e r e u n w i l l i n g t o discuss its a r g u m e n t s a b o u t d e a t h - see J . M i l l e r , p . 294. I n V o l . 2 o f the History

(pp. I 2 5 - 3 9 ) F o u c a u l t addresses the c o n n e c t i o n s i n G r e e k

c u l t u r e b e t w e e n s e x u a l i t y a n d d e a t h (see a b o v e , C h a p t e r I). II

E a r l i e r , i n a s p e c u l a t i v e , i n f l u e n t i a l a n d d i f f i c u l t essay o n t r a n s g r e s s i o n ,

F o u c a u l t h a d w r i t t e n o f a m o d e r n f o r m o f s e x u a l i t y w h i c h 'offers itself i n the superficial discourse of a solid a n d natural animality, w h i l e obscurely addressing itself t o A b s e n c e ' . H e speculates t h a t this s e x u a l i t y is tied to the death of G o d and to the ontological void which his death fixed at the limit of our thought; it is also tied to the still silent and groping apparition of a form of thought in which the interrogation of the limit replaces the search for totality and the act of transgression replaces the movement of contradictions. (Language, pp. 3 I , 50)

Chapter

21

I T h e C a v a f y e x t r a c t s are t a k e n f r o m the t r a n s l a t i o n b y E d m u n d K e e l e y a n d Philip Sherrard. 2 C f . ' A n d I L o u n g e d . . .' 3 A s m o s t r e c e n t l y i n the w r i t i n g o f D a v i d W o j n a r o w i c z ; see esp. h i s Close the Knives

a n d Memories

that Smell Like

Gasoline.

4 I e x p l o r e t h i s m o r e f u l l y i n Sexual Dissidence,

355

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S a n F r a n c i s c o : A r t s p a c e B o o k s , 1992.

its Discontents:

Freud

and

Other

Fictions.

B l o o m i n g t o n : I n d i a n a U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1991. W o o l f , V i r g i n i a , T o the Lighthouse

[I927], ed. Stella M c N i c h o l , i n t r o . a n d notes

by H e r m i o n e L e e . L o n d o n : P e n g u i n , I992. W y a t t , Sir T h o m a s , Poetical Y e a t s , W . B . , Collected Y o u n g , R o b e r t , Colonial

Works.

L o n d o n : B e l l & D a l d y , 1866.

Poems. L o n d o n : M a c m i l l a n , I 9 7 I . Desire: Hybridity

in Theory,

Culture

and Race. L o n d o n

a n d N e w Y o r k : R o u t l e d g e , I995. Z h d a n o v , A . A . , On Literature,

Music

and Philosophy

[ I 9 3 4 - 4 8 ] , trans. E . F o x ,

S. J a c k s o n a n d H . C . F e l d t . L o n d o n : L a w r e n c e & W i s h a r t , I950. Z u c k e r m a n , E l l i o t t , The First Hundred

Years of Wagner's

a n d L o n d o n : C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y Press, I964.

374

Tristan.

New York

Index

A c h e b e , C h i n u a 384 n . i

A q u i n a s , T h o m a s 44

A c h i l l e s I7

A r i e s , P h i l i p p e 6 3 , 66, I 2 0 - 2 I 160

aesthetics

A r i s t o p h a n e s 1 2 - 1 3 , 2 2 , 52, 112

o f energy x x x — x x x i i 231—72

A r i s t o t l e I4, I 0 0 , 2 2 5 , 346 n . I 4

as e v a s i o n o f the c h t h o n i a n

a s c e t i c i s m 43—7 a t a v i s m I32, I45

xxiv A f r i c a , i n L a w r e n c e 266, 354 n.4

a t h e i s m 206

A I D S i x - x i i i , 43, I22, I96, 2 9 4 - 5 ,

Auden, W . H . 3I3-14 A u g u s t i n e , St x i x - x x , 4 7 - 5 0 , 9 2 - 3 ,

3 0 I , 304, 3 I 0 - I I , 329 n . 5 , 330 n . 6 , 357 n.3

97, 99, I39, 335 n . 4 , 347 n . 2 0 ,

A l c i b i a d e s 8, 286

353 n.4

A l c m a n I6

A u s c h w i t z 2 2 I , 259

A n a x a g o r a s 332 n . I 5

a u t h o r , d e a t h o f 306

Anaximander 3

a u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m 259

annihilation of selfhood i n B a t a i l l e 244ft.

B a c o n , F r a n c i s 60

in Bersani 3 0 3 - 5

B a l d , R . C . 89

in Foucault 306-7

B a l d w i n , J a m e s 2 9 4 - 6 , 302, 356 n . i

i n L a w r e n c e 266ff., 354 n.4

Barthes, R o l a n d 3i2ff.

in M a n n 2 9 0 - 9 I

B a t a i l l e , G e o r g e s x x i i , x x i v , x x x i , 94,

i n N i e t z s c h e 237

2 4 9 - 5 7 , 2 9 9 , 305

i n sex x x v , 65

b a t h h o u s e s , gay i x , 294, 2 9 8 , 3 I 0 B a t z , P. 73

a n t i - e s s e n t i a l i s m , the experience o f

Baudelaire, Charles

325

I35

Baudrillard, Jean I 2 3 - 6

a n t i - h u m a n i s m x x i i I70, 2 0 7 - 8 ,

Bauman, Zygmunt I 2 I - 2 , I25-6,

3 0 6 - 8 , 3 I I , 322 anti-Semitism 2I6

339 n . i b e a u t y , a n d d e a t h 288

A p o l l o n i a n , the x x i v

B e a u v o i r , S i m o n e de x x v - x v i ,

i n M a n n 282—3

33I

in Nietzsche 2 3 8 - 4 I

n.I2

B e e t h o v e n , L u d w i g v a n 240

appearance and reality x i i i

375

INDEX

Benjamin, Walter Bergen-Belsen

C a v a f y , C . P. 3 i 5 f f .

II9

change (see also m u t a b i l i t y ,

22I

Bernard, Claude

transience) x i i i

I42

i n N i e t z s c h e 245ff.

B e r s a n i , L e o 300, 3 0 3 - 5 , 314 b i n d i n g a n d u n b i n d i n g , o f the self

C h o r o n , Jacques 23, 6 1 - 2 C h r i s t 60, 7 2 - 3 , I 5 8 - 9 , 335 n.4

I4-20 forces o f i n s e x u a l i t y I 9 0 - 9 1 ,

C h r i s t i a n i t y x i x - x x , x x i i i , 7, 4 3 - 5 6 , passim

345 n . i o and thought

9 I , 232

C h r y s o s t o m , J o h n 4 4 , 46

I33

c h t h o n i a n , the x x i v

b i s e x u a l i t y 285

C i c e r o 61

Bloomsbury group, and homosexuality

civilization, and degeneration

27I

Blüher, H a n s 2 8 5 , 356 n . i o

I 2 8 - 4 4 , 258ff.

Bolshevik Party 2I7

C l a r k , E l i z a b e t h A . 334 n . i

b o n d i n g , m a l e 285

C l e m e n t o f A l e x a n d r i a 339 n . i o

B o o t h , Stephen 336 n.9

c l o c k m a k i n g 336 n.8

B o o t h b y , R i c h a r d I 9 2 , I 9 5 , 346 n.14.

C o l l a r d , C y r i l 329 n.2 C o n r a d , J o s e p h 37, 2 0 4 - 6 , 275

347 n.19

Heart

b o r e d o m 342 n.4 Borges, Jorge L u i s 7 2 - 3

Nostromo

Bourget, Paul I 3 3 - 4 B o w i e , M a l c o l m 185, 346 n.17

I45-50,

204-6,

n.3

expansion of x x i i ,

I53-97

passim

331 n.13, 339 n . 2 , 340 n.3 Society

34I

consciousness, n u l l i f i c a t i o n a n d

Bronfen, Elisabeth x x v i - x x v i i , B r o w n , Peter, The Body and

of Darkness

280, 29I

C o p e r n i c u s , N i c o l a u s 78 C o r n f o r d , F. M . 3 - 5

47 B r o w n e , Sir T h o m a s 6 8 - 9 , 8 4 - 5 , 334 n . 2 , 338 n . i

c o s m i c decay 7 7 - 9 ,

I29

c o u r t l y l o v e 66

B u c h e n w a l d 22I

C r i m p , D o u g l a s 357 n.4

B u c k , T i m o t h y 355 n.4

C r i t c h l e y , S i m o n 330 n.8 Crucifixion, Christian I57-8

B u d d h i s m x i x , 52, 5 3 - 6 , 238,

c u l t u r a l r e l a t i v i s m I25

35I n.6 C a l v i n , J o h n 50

D a c h a u 22I

Camus, Renaud 3I2

d a e m o n i c desire x x i v — x x v , 276—7

C a n n a d i n e , D a v i d 340 n.2

dance o f d e a t h 6 0 , 77

c a p i t a l i s m 250

D a r w i n i s m I38, 337 n.5 d e a t h d r i v e (see also F r e u d ) x x x , I49,

carpe diem x v - x v i , 4 I - 2 , I8I, 3 I 3 Carse, James

236

I69

decadence x x x , 7, I33—4, I46, 2 0 I ,

C a r s o n , A n n e 332 n.9

2 I 7 , 2 3 I - 4 8 , 279

C a s t i g l i o n e , Baldassare 72 The Courtier

L a w r e n c e o n 259ff.

7 9 - 8 0 , 83

i n M a n n 289

C a t u l l u s 334 n . i

376

INDEX

Devotions

d e g e n e r a t i o n x x i v , x x v i i i x x x i , 7, 6 6 , 7 7 - 8 , I 2 8 - 4 4 , I 4 5 - 6 , 203, 2 0 6 ,

Upon

Occasions

34I n.7

drageur

i n L a w r e n c e 258ft.

Emergent

75, 8 8 - 9 0

325

D r u m m o n d , W i l l i a m 72, 8 I - 2 , 8 3 ,

i n M a n n 245ft.

9 2 , I 9 3 , 337 n.8

in M a r x i a m 2I4—20

D r u r y , S h a d i a B . 343 n . 5 , n.7

i n N i e t z s c h e 246 a n d p r i m i t i v i s m I32, I 4 5 - 6 ,

Ecclesiastes 3 6 - 4 2 , 333 n.3

I49-50

e f f e m i n a c y 285

d e h e r o i z a t i o n 222

E i j k , T o n H . C . V a n , 44

D e l e u z e , G i l l e s 307

E i n s t e i n , A l b e r t I86, I89, I92

denial of death x x v i i i , I I 9 - 2 7

E l i o t , T . S. x v i - x v i i

depression and sexual promiscuity

E m p e d o c l e s I 9 2 , 206

302

energy, aesthetics o f x x x - x x x i Enlightenment x x v i i i , 60, 9 I , I 2 3 - 4 ,

i n N i e t z s c h e 352 n.9

I26, I59, 3 I 3

D e s c o m b e s , V i n c e n t 343 n.5

Epicurean philosophy 7

d e s i r e , i m p o s s i b i l i t y (futility) o f x v i i , 4 3 - 4 , 64, 79, 8 I , 9 8 - 9 , 1 0 3 - 4 ,

E p i c u r u s 2 0 , 2 2 - 2 3 , 2 0 3 , 332 n.13

I 0 8 , II4, II6, I 7 3 , I87, 276, 305,

eros 5, I5, 52, 6 3 , I 8 7 - I 9 I , 332 n . 9 ,

3 I 2 , 3 2 0 - 2 I , 335 n.5

334 n.3

d e s u b l i m a t i o n 2 2 2 , 2 7 8 - 9 , 290 D e u t s c h , N i c o l a s , Death and Young

Woman

a n d c i v i l i z a t i o n I90

the

e r o t i c aesthetic, i n C a v a f y

62

317

e r o t i c i r o n y 286

deviation, and subversion x v i i

E u r i p i d e s 356 n.14

Dionysiac xxx, 5 - 6 , 7

e v i l I43 e x c r e m e n t a l vs. the e r o t i c , L a w r e n c e

in M a n n 2 8 2 - 3 , 2 9 9

o n 264

i n N i e t z s c h e 236ft. disease x

f a i l u r e , x v i i - x v i i i , x x i x , 233

a n d c r e a t i v i t y 2 7 5 - 8 , 355 n.3

and male sexuality x x v

a n d h o m o s e x u a l i t y 2 9 0 - 9 I , 30I

F a l l x x i i i , 44, 9 I , I 4 0 , I75

disgust

fantasy I 0 8 - 9

a n d desire 252

a n d i d e n t i f i c a t i o n 304

at p r o c r e a t i v e n a t u r e x x i v displacement of failure 2I7

f a s c i s m x x v i i i , 353 n . I 2

D o l l i m o r e , J o n a t h a n 337 n . 6 , 338 n.2,

f a t a l i s m x i , 2 2 3 , 316

339 n . 3 , 3 4 i n . 6 , 345 n . I I ,

femininity, and death x x v i - x x v i i

359 n.4

feminism xxiv—vi f e t i s h i s m 312, 316, 322

D o n n e , J o h n x v i i i , x i x , 6 0 , 71, 79, 88,

F e u e r b a c h , L u d w i g A n d r e a s x x i i , 94,

9 6 - 7 , 9 9 , I 0 5 , I64, I9I, 2 I 2 ,

167, 2 0 6 - 1 1 , 226, 342 n . 3 ,

337 n.2 An Anatomie

of the World

343 n . 5 , 351 n.6

77-8,

The Essence of Christianity

I00 Biathanatos

207-8

and radical humanism 2 0 6 - 7

7 I - 7 6 , 337 n . i

377

INDEX

Feuerbach, L u d w i g Andreas Thoughts

on Death

Immortality

cont.

gender, a n d death x x i i i — x x v i i Genesis 44, 48, 140

and

G i d e , A n d r é , 356 n . i

208

f i s t - f u c k i n g 297

G i l m a n , Sander 340 n . 2 , n.5

Flaceliére, R o b e r t 15

G n o s t i c i s m 5 0 - 5 3 , 334 n.2

formalism 2I7

a n d b i s e x u a l i t y 52

F o r r e s t e r , J o h n I94

Poimandres

51-2

G o d x x i i , 4, 3 8 - 9 , 47, 52, 56, 59, 8 0 ,

Forster, E. M . 314-15

9 6 - 7 , 124, 140, 154, 157, 1 6 7 - 8 ,

F o u c a u l t , M i c h e l i x - x i , I3, I24, I38,

2 0 6 - 1 1 , 214, 2 2 0 - 2 1 , 342 n.2

I69, 2 8 I , 297, 305ff., 325,

' G o d is d e a d ' x x x , 359 n . n

339 n . i o , 340 n . 3 , 348 n.6 F r e u d , S i g m u n d x x , x x i i , 5, 8, 62, 72,

gods, the 16

I09, I20, I 3 3 - 4 , I37, I39, I47,

G o e t h e , J o h a n n W o l f g a n g 283

I50, I59, I73, I78, I 8 0 - 9 7 , 207,

G o r e r , Geoffrey

216, 2 2 2 - 6 , 247, 252, 256, 278,

G r e e n b l a t t , Stephen 96

280, 2 8 3 , 330 n . n , 337 n . 5 ,

G r e e n s l a d e , W i l l i a m 128, 143, 341 n.9 Gregory of Nyssa 4 4 - 6

341 n . i , 343 n . i , 353 n.5 Beyond

the Pleasure

1 8 0 - 9 7 passim Civilization

Principle

xix,

G r i f f i n , M i r i a m T . 333 n.17 Gunn, Thorn xii

355 n.6

and its Discontents

2I6 Hades 5

d e a t h d r i v e x x , 72, 75, I 8 0 - 9 7 , passim

120

H a h n , W e r n e r 348 n.3

2 2 3 - 4 , 226, 279, 3 I 0 ,

H a l l , R a d c l y f f e 296

343 n.2 o n ego, i d a n d superego, 343 n . i

H a l p e r i n , D a v i d M . 329 n.4

eros/death, d u a l i s m i n I 8 7 - 9 1 ,

H a n s o n , E l l i s 330 n.6 Hardy, Thomas x i v - x v

344 n . 6 , 345 n n . 8 - 9

H a r r i s , V i c t o r 337 n.4

a n d i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h the lost object

Haselden, Rupert 2 9 5 - 6 , 3 0 2 - 3 ,

I82

on mourning and melancholia,

357 n.3 H e c t o r 17

I 8 0 - 8 2 , 343 n.2

Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, xxii,

o n neurosis 2 7 8 - 9

1 5 3 - 6 0 , 1 6 2 - 5 , 207, 2 0 9 , 210,

N i e t z s c h e , influence o f 346 n . I 2 ,

3 1 2 - 1 3 , 342 n . 5 , 343 n . 2 ,

n . I4, 350 n.2 ' O u r Attitude towards Death'

119

343 n . 5 , 353 n.3 a n d the b a d infinite 1 5 6 - 7 , 196,

S c h o p e n h a u e r , influence o f

341 n . i

346 n.12

Heidegger, M a r t i n x x i i , 1 6 1 - 5 ,

a n d s u i c i d e I82, I9I, 343 n.2

1 6 8 - 9 , 194, 196, 2 2 1 - 2 ,

' O n Transience' 180-82

342 n n . 1 - 5 , 343 n.8

F r o m m , E r i c h 349 n.9 F u t u r i s m 260

' L e t t e r o n H u m a n i s m ' 168—70 H e i l b u t , A n t h o n y 356 n . 9 , n.15

G a l i l e o 78

H e r a c l i t u s 5 - 6 , 156, 2 0 2 - 3 , 33I a n d L a c a n 347 n.17

G a u t a m a , S i d d h a r t h a 54

378

n

-4

INDEX

H e r b e r t G e o r g e 6 8 , 76, 81

intellectual history, x x i i i

Herodotus, 3

i n v e r s i o n 277

h i g h e r degenerate, the I45

I n w o o d , M . J . 343 n n . 7 - 8

H i r s c h , W i l l i a m 34I n.8 h i s t o r y , i n N i e t z s c h e 234

J o b 3 9 - 4 0 , 333 n.2

H o b b e s , T h o m a s 330

J o n a s , H a n s 51

n.II

H o c q u e n g h e m , G u y 2 9 I , 295,

J u l i a n o f E c l a n u m 49

357 n . 2 , n.5 K a h n , C h a r l e s H . 4, 331 n n . 2 - 3

H o l d e r l i n , F r i e d r i c h 286 H o l l e r a n A n d r e w , Dancer Dance

from

K e a t s , J o h n x x i - x x i i , 10

the

' O d e to a N i g h t i n g a l e ' x x i

329 n.3

H o l l i e r , D e n i s 340 n.3

K e p l e r , J o h a n n e s 78

H o l o c a u s t , N a z i 222

K e r r i g a n , J o h n 6 8 , 336 n . 8 , 338 n.7,

Homer Iliad

339 n . i I6-I7

K i e r k e g a a r d , S o r e n 207

Odyssey I 8 - 2 0 , 358 n.9

K l e i n , M e l a n i e , x x v i , 193

homophobia xi

K o j e v e , A l e x a n d r e x x i i , 159, 1 6 2 - 5 ,

homosexuality i x - x i i , x x x i , 43, 2 7 0 — 7 2 , 28off., 2 9 4 - 3 1 1

168, 194, 196, 211, 343 n n . 5 - 6 , n.8

passim

Kristeva, Julia x x v i , 108-9

H o u l g a t e , S t e p h e n 159 H u i z i n g a , J o h a n 120

L a c a n , J a c q u e s 113, 159, 1 9 4 - 7 , 308

humanism xviii, xxii, xxiv, 90-93,

L a n d , N i c k 257

165, 167, 2 0 6 - 1 0 , 3 0 8 - 9

L a n k e s t e r , E d w i n 340 n.4

l i t e r a r y 323 Hume, David 93-4

L a p l a n c h e , J e a n 191, 343 n . i , 344 n . 4 ,

I b s e n , H e n r i k 135

L a R o c h e f o u c a u l d , F r a n c o i s 335 n.5

identification

Lawrence, D . H . x x x i , 2 5 8 - 7 2 , 280,

345 n . i o , 346 n.15

341 n.9

w i t h change x x x , 2 3 1 - 4 8 w i t h d e a t h x x i i , 82, 9 5 - 7 , 105, 182,

a n d a n n i h i l a t i o n o f s e l f h o o d 266ft.,

250, 2 6 9 , 2 7 6 - 8 , 287, 289 w i t h the lost object (in F r e u d ) 182

354 n.4

w i t h T i m e 105

o n decadence 259ft. o n d e g e n e r a t i o n 2.58ft.

identity a n d difference

A f r i c a i n 266, 354 n.4

o n the e x c r e m e n t a l vs. the e r o t i c

154

264

experienced ambivalently x x i

a n d i n d i v i d u a l i s m 259ft.

i d e n t i t y p o l i t i c s 304, 306, 3 2 5 - 6 i d e o l o g y o f d e a t h 1 2 3 - 5 , 2.20-27

a n d n o t h i n g n e s s 265

incest 293

o n the p o r n o g r a p h i c p e r s o n a l i t y 264-5

i n d i v i d u a l , i n crisis x v i i i - x x i i i

s o c i a l i s m i n 258

i n d i v i d u a l i s m x v i i i , 9 0 — 9 3 , 209—13,

L e a v i s , F . R . , 263

217

l i m i t e x p e r i e n c e , i n F o u c a u l t 311

i n L a w r e n c e , 258ft.

379

INDEX

a n d the l u m p e n p r o l e t a r i a t 215-16

L i n g i s , A l p h o n s o 342 n.2 L o c k e , J o h n 330 n.II

m a s o c h i s m 188-9, 221, 2 4 7 8 , 303

L o m b r o s o , Cesare I29

m a s t u r b a t i o n [see also o n a n i s m )

-

2 6 4 - 5 , 321-2

L u c a s , F . L . 333 n.18 L u c r e t i u s , On the Nature Universe

of the

2 0 - 2 3 , 2 5 , 6 1 , 78, 87,

203, 332 n.14

m e d i t a t i o n o n d e a t h 59ff. M e d u s a 17 m e l a n c h o l y x x i x , 59, 68, 7 5 - 6 , 77,

87, 233, 284, 287

L u k e , D a v i d 355 n n . 4 - 5 , 356 n.15

a n d m e l a n c h o l i a , i n F r e u d 343 n.2

L u m s d e n , A n d r e w 357 n.4

M e l e a g e r 14 M a c h i a v e l l i , N i c c o l é 3 3 8 n.6

memento

M a g e e , B r y a n 35I n.7

m e m o r y 349 n.7

' m a n ' , d e a t h o f x v i i i - x i x , x x i i i , 197,

mori, x x x i , 234

i n C a v a f y 3i7ff.

306

i n N i e t z s c h e , 233 a n d r e d e m p t i o n 320

M a n i c h a e a n dualism, a n d medicine

142

t r a n s v a l u a t i o n o f 223

M a n i l i u s 61

M e n a n d e r 16

M a n n , T h o m a s 229, 330 n.7, 353 n.12

M e p h i s t o p h i l i s 334 n.2

and annihilation o f selfhood

290-91

M e r r i l l , J a m e s 330 n.6 metaphysics x i i i , x v i i i a n d the i d e a l o f stasis x v i i

a n d the A p o l l o n i a n 2 8 2 - 3 Death in Venice

146, 275-93

M i l l e r , C h r i s t o p h e r L . 341 n.2 M i l l e r , D . A . i x , 310

passim a n d decadence 289

M i l l e r , J a m e s i x — x , 310

a n d degeneration 275ff.

M i l t o n , J o h n 97-8

a n d the D i o n y s i a c 2 8 2 - 3 , 299

Mimnermus 3 misogyny x x i i i , x x v i

a n d nothingness 280 M a r c u s e , H e r b e r t x x i x , 149, 170, 210,

M i t c h e l l , J u l i e t x x v i , 195, 347 n.18 M o i , Toril, xxv

220-27, 33I n.5 M a r i n e t t i , F i l i p p o 260, 354 n.3

M o n t a i g n e , M i c h e l x x x i i , 6 1 - 2 , 68,

8 7 - 8 , 193, 196, 334 n . i

M a r k s , Elaine x x v

M o o r e , Oscar

masculinity xxiii

A Matter

M a r c u s A u r e l i u s x x i x , 203 meditations

M a r l o w e , C h r i s t o p h e r , Dr

of Life and Sex i x - x i i ,

302-3, 314

32-5

PWA:

Faustus

Looking

AIDS

in the Face,

329 n.5

334 n.2, 338 n.3 m a r r i a g e , a n d death 44—6

M o r e , S i r T h o m a s 60, 334 n.2

M a r s t o n , J o h n 85

M o r e l , B e n e d i c t 129, 139-40, 341 n . -

What

You Will

85-7

M o s s e , G e o r g e 137, 340 n.2, n.5,

356 n . i o

Marvell, Andrew, x v i - x v i i i M a r x , K a r l x x v i i i - x x i x , 165, 202,

207, 210—16, 337 n.5, 342 n.3,

M o t t o , A n n L y d i a 333 n.17 m u t a b i l i t y x i i f f . , 2 5 - 6 , 3 3 - 4 , 71 —in passim

343 n.5

380

223, 315

INDEX

a n d N a z i s m 353 n . i

in Auden 313-14 in Bataille 2 4 9 - 5 7

a n d n o t h i n g n e s s 240

passim

a n d P r o t e s t a n t i s m 2 3 3 , 242

a n d B u d d h i s m 54

a n d transience 245ft, 350 n.3

o f desire 4 9 , 189, 212 a n d early C h r i s t i a n i t y 4 3 - 7

n i r v a n a 5 5 - 6 , 178, 2 2 5 , 343 n . i

a n d gender 79

non-being, seduction of x x v i

a n d i d e n t i t y 79

N o r d a u , M a x , Degeneration

128ft.,

145, 146, 2 3 1 , 2 7 5 , 341 n . i

i n t e r n a l i z a t i o n o f 79 i n M a r i n e t t i 260

N o r r i s , C h r i s t o p h e r 343 n.9

i n N i e t z s c h e 2 3 2 - 4 , 245ff., 350 n.3

nothingness i n F e u e r b a c h 209

a n d the t r a n s i e n t s e x u a l e n c o u n t e r

i n G l y k o n 331 n . i i n K o j é v e 164 n a r c i s s i s m i x , 312, 3 2 0 - 2 2 , 334 n.3

i n L a c a n 346 n.16

N a r c i s s u s m y t h 51, 289

i n L a w r e n c e 265 i n M a n n 280

a n d d e a t h 225

i n N i e t z s c h e 240

nature, inanimate 3 7 - 8

i n Sartre 166

Nazism xxviii a n d H e i d e g g e r 170, 221

N u n o k a w a , Jess 330 n . 6

a n d N i e t z s c h e 353 n . i

N u s s b a u m , M a r t h a 332 n . i 3

n e c r o p h i l i a 63 o b l i v i o n , metaphysics of 2 0 5 - 6

n e g a t i o n 166 Neoplatonism

Odysseus

10-11

N e r o 27, 3 0 - 3 1

18-19

o n a n i s m (see also m a s t u r b a t i o n ) 312,

n e u r o s i s 4 6 , 2 7 8 - 9 , 349 n.9

322

Nietzsche, Friedrich xxiii, x x x - x x x i ,

O r p h e u s 15, 225

7, 8, 137, 144, 2 0 1 , 207, 275,

O s b o r n e , L a w r e n c e 334 n . 2 , 335 n.4

2 3 1 - 4 8 , 2 5 9 - 6 0 , 279, 2 8 3 , 330 n . n , 349 n . i , 355 n.2

p a e d o p h i l i a 293

a n d a n n i h i l a t i o n o f s e l f h o o d 237

Pagels, E l a i n e 50

a n d the A p o l l o n i a n 2 3 8 - 4 1

P a g l i a , C a m i l l e x x i i i - x x v , 330

a n d c h a n g e 245ff.

p a r a n o i a I89 and degeneration

a n d d e g e n e r a t i o n 246

n.II

I4I

Parmenides 6

and depression and sexual

P a s c a l , B l a i s e 84

p r o m i s c u i t y 352 n.9 a n d the D i o n y s i a c 236ft.

p e r f e c t i o n , i n s t i n c t t o w a r d s 187

o n h i s t o r y 234

p e r f o r m a n c e p r i n c i p l e 224

a n d h o m o s e x u a l i t y 352 n . i o

perverse i n s t i n c t s , a n d p l e a s u r e

influence o n F r e u d 346 n.12, n.14,

344 n.3

350 n.2

p e r v e r s i o n , x v i i , I 2 9 , I3I, I 3 5 - 4 0 , I 4 6 - 7 , 184, 2 8 0 - 8 4 , 349 n.8

a n d m e m o r y 233

p h r e n o l o g y 341 n.7

a n d m u t a b i l i t y 2 3 2 - 4 , 245ft.,

P i c k , D a n i e l 136, 203

350 n.3

381

INDEX

P l a n t , R i c h a r d 138, 356 n . i o

Renaissance x i

Platen, August von 287-9

repression i83ff. 278-80

P l a t o 3, 7-10, Symposium

a n d i d e a l i s m 224

16, 80, 332 n.7

R e v i l l , D a v i d 357 n.4

12-13, 22, 52

P l a t o n i c f o r m s 9-10,

r e v o l u t i o n 212-16

56, 201

P l a t o n i s m 7, 10, 21, 177,

R i s t , J . M . 32

279-83,

R o m a n s 44

347 n.20, 355 n.8

R o u g e m o n t , D e n i s de 6 3 - 8 , 108, 239,

Poe, Edgar A l l a n x x v i P o n t a l i s , J . - B . 343 n . i

334 n.3, 335 n n . 6 - 7

P o p p e r , K a r l 203

R o u s s e a u , Jean-Jacques 330 n . n

pornographic personality, Lawrence

R u m a k e r , M i c h a e l 298-302, 314,

322

R u s s e l l , B e r t r a n d 259

o n 264-5 p o s i t i v i s m , a n d disease 142 p o s t - m o d e r n i s m x x i i i , 91, 9 2 - 3 ,

125,

163

Sade, M a r q u i s de 349 n.9, 354 n.6 s a d i s m 188-9, 247, 344 n.7

p o s t - s t r u c t u r a l i s m 163

s a d o - m a s o c h i s m 297, 306,

Powell, Enoch xviii

S a i d , E d w a r d 205

p r a x i s x x v i i i — x x i x , 162, 165,

S a p p h o 332

168,

170, 201-27, 259

n.II

Sartre, J e a n - P a u l x x i x , 162, 165-70,

331 n.12

P r o m e t h e u s 156, 224-5

Satan 140,

P r o t e s t a n t i s m 50, 336 n.8

191

S c h i e s a r i , J u l i a n a 338 n.4

i n N i e t z s c h e 233, 242 p s y c h i a t r i s t s , a n d degeneration

141

p s y c h o a n a l y s i s 180-97, 2 8 0 - 8 1 , 310,

S c h o o l m a n , M o r t o n 349 n.9 Schopenhauer, A r t h u r x x , x x i i - x x i i i , x x x , x x x i i , 8, 55, 153, 173-9,

321, 340 n.3

191-3, 196, 201-3, 206, 232, 2 3 6 - 8 , 275, 344 n.5, 351 n.7, 355 n.2

R a ' a n a n , G a v r i e l 348 n.3 R a i n e , C r a i g 348 n . i R a l e g h , Sir W a l t e r x i i i , x x i x , 99,

influence o n F r e u d 346

105,

n.12

Scott, R . B. Y . 333 n . i

349 n . i History

311

of the World

77-8,

88-90,

self, death o f x x i i

9 4 - 5 , 338 n.5

illusion of in B u d d h i s m

R a n k e - H e i n e m a n n , U t a 334 n.2 R e c h y , J o h n , The Sexual

55-6

self-disidentification x x i i , 3 0 6 - 8 ,

reality p r i n c i p l e 224 Outlaw

297-8, 302, 314

Seneca, L u c i u s A n n a e u s x x i x , 2 4 - 3 2 ,

35, 42, 62, 203, 333 n.16, n.18

r e d e m p t i o n , s e x u a l 300 Reed, T . J . 282-3

sexual difference x x i i i - x x v i i , 46

regression x x i v , 11, 146, 150, 186-7,

sexual dissidence x i i , 47, 275-327 passim

223

sexual identity, uncertainty of in

R e i c h , W i l h e l m 335 n.4 r e l a t i v i z i n g death

p s y c h o a n a l y s i s 347

126

sexual r a d i c a l i s m 297

religion xiii

382

n.18

INDEX

sexual renunciation

S u l l o w a y , F r a n k 346 n.14

43-7

S h a k e s p e a r e , W i l l i a m x v i i , 62,

syphilis 2 7 5 - 7

102-116, 212, 336 n.8, 338 n.8 All's

Well That Ends Well

Antony

and Cleopatra

Coriolanus Hamlet Henry

99

212, 330 n.9

T a i n e , H i p p o l y t e 353 n . n T a n n e r , T o n y 356 n . i 3

215

x x - x x i , 196,

t h a n a t o s 16, 63

212

Thomas, Edward xiv

IV 82

Macbeth

x i x , 339 n.4

Measure

for Measure

Romeo

Tacitus 28, 3 0 - 3 1

and Juliet

T i m e x i i f f . , 3 - 4 , 8, 11, 17, 2 6 , 2 8 , 113

3 2 - 5 , 3 7 - 8 , 6 8 , 7 3 - 9 , 8 1 - 2 , 89,

-16

1 0 2 - 7 , 112, 116, 130, 149,

108-113

174-9, 180-82, 210-14, 233-4,

Sonnets 98, i07ff. Troilus

and Cressida

S h a w , B e r n a r d 333

S h e l l e y , P e r c y B y s s h e x v i i , 10-12,

37-8 Adonais

3 1 3 - 2 0 , 336 n . 8 , 350 n.4

69, 338 n.3

n.18

T i t a n s 156 tragedy x v i i i t r a n s g r e s s i o n 277, 282 a n d c r e a t i v i t y 315ft.

37, 332 n.7

a n d d e a t h 44, 48

S h i l t s , R a n d y 330 n.6

transience x i i i f f .

Sidney, Philip 69-70 sin 43-4

in Freud 180-82

S i n g e r , I r v i n g 67, 351

i n L a c a n 346 n.17

n.6

Sirens 18

i n N i e t z s c h e 245ft., 350 n.3

sleep 83

a n d the s e x u a l e n c o u n t e r 312—27 passim

s o c i a l d e a t h x x v i i - x x i x , 128-44 passim

a n d u r b a n e x p e r i e n c e 302

214-20

s o c i a l i s m , i n L a w r e n c e 258

T r i s t a n a n d Iseult, m y t h o f 6 4 - 5 , 67, 335 n.6

s o c i a l i s t r e a l i s m 217 Socrates 7-10,

13, 201, 231, 2 8 1 - 2 ,

286, 348 n.4 Solomon, Robert

V e r m e u l e , E m i l y 1 5 - 1 6 , 332 n . i o V e r n a n t , J e a n - P i e r r e 1 6 - 1 9 , 332 n.12

159

Spenser, E d m u n d 69, 337 n.7 The Faerie

Queene

S p i n o z a , B a r u c h 346

78, 83, 101

V i r g i l 333 n.16 v o y e u r i s m 312, 322

n.14 W a g n e r , R i c h a r d 55, 135, 232, 236,

Stalinism xxviii

238ft., 275, 355 n.2

S t a t e n , H e n r y 346 n.16, 347 n.20

Tristan

Steiner, G e o r g e 170, 342 n.3, 343 n.9 S t o i c i s m 7, 2 4 - 3 2 , 60, 204, 333 n . i 5 s u b l i m a t i o n (see also d e s u b l i m a t i o n )

W a l e y , J o a c h i m 121 W a l l a c e , A . R . 340 n.3

279-80, 285

W a l l a c e , J e n n i f e r 10, 331 n.6

s u i c i d e x , 82 in D o n n e 71-3,

and Isolde x x i , x x x , 6 6 ,

108, 2 3 2 , 2 3 6 , 238ft., 336 n.7

337 n.2

i n F o u c a u l t x - x i , 305—6, 310—11

W a l t o n , I z a a k 71 W a t t s , C e d r i c 146, 341 n n . 1 - 2 , 356 n.14

i n F r e u d 182, 191, 343 n.2

383

INDEX

Hegel on 212-13

W e b e r , C a r l M a r i a , M a n n ' s letter t o

W o o l f , V i r g i n i a 37

282-93 W e b s t e r , J o h n , The White Devil

T o the Lighthouse

xii

37-8

W e e k s , Jeffrey 304

Wordsworth, William xvi

W e i s n e r , M e r r y E . 100

W y a t t T h o m a s 79, 9 5 - 6 , 99

W e l b o n , G u y R i c h a r d 334 n.2 W i l l i a m s o n , G e o r g e 337 n.4

yearning

Wells, H . G . 129-30

i n f i n i t u d e of, i n W a g n e r 240

W e s t e r n c u l t u r e , h o r i z o n s o f 53

in M o o r e ix

W i l d e , O s c a r 128, 325, 330 n . 6 ,

in Platen 2 8 7 - 8 to return x x

335 n.5

Y e a t s , W . B . x i i i , 174

W i l s o n , Scott 257 w i s d o m movement

39-40

Y o u n g , R o b e r t 341 n.5

W o j n a r o w i c z , D a v i d 359 n.3 wonder, and eroticism 3 1 2 - 2 7 passim B a r t h e s o n 312

Z e u s 12 Zhdanov, A . A . 217-20 Z u c k e r m a n , E l l i o t 350 n.5

384