Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Review of The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology
The Pervert’s Guide to
Ideology
Dir: Sophie Fiennes
May 5 at the DOXA Film Festival
Dir: Sophie Fiennes
May 5 at the DOXA Film Festival
Sophie Fiennes’ new film, The
Pervert’s Guide to Ideology, follows Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek on a
Virgilian tour through the labyrinths of popular culture. As in many of his
seventy or so books, Žižek deploys the ideas of Jacques Lacan, Karl Marx,
and Walter Benjamin to shed light on the intricate operations of ideology in
cinema, TV ad campaigns, and popular music. Here, the emphasis on pop culture
serves a two-fold purpose: it exposes the extent to which we denizens of a
supposedly “post-ideological society” are entangled in the cobwebs of ideology,
and it makes abstruse psychoanalytic and philosophical optics thoroughly
palatable to large audiences (a tactic that in large part accounts for Žižek’s
veritable intellectual guru status both inside and outside of academia).
For Žižek, following
French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan (whose revival in academic
circles Žižek has played no small part in instigating), ideology is not
merely a false screen that obstructs our perception of the way things really
are. Reality, for Lacan, necessarily “takes on the structure of a fiction.” We
understand the world around us and our roles within it primarily through
fragmentary narratives that permeate the cultural sphere. As such, television,
film, advertising, and the social networking sites to which so many of us are
addicted teach us not just what to desire, but how to
desire in an increasingly virtual world.
As in Fiennes’ last Žižek
documentary, The Pervert’s Guide to Cinema, the primary focus is on movies
that are near and dear to Žižek’s heart, all of which will be familiar to his
readers. And once again, a great deal hinges on the easily-overlooked role of
“perversion,” an operative concept that radiates through the array of movies he
scrutinizes. Above and beyond the colloquial sexual sense of the term,
“perversion” has a distinctly Marxist resonance in Lacanian circles. This brand
of “fetishistic disavowal” designates the pervasive attitude of “I know very
well, but still…” without which the smooth-functioning of everyday life would
be almost impossible. In order to “fetishistically” enjoy the spoils of “the
Developed World,” we turn a blind eye to the unthinkable conditions in the
sweatshops, slaughterhouses, and garbage dumps that make “civilized” life
possible. This is an issue familiar to viewers of Astra Taylor’s less probing
philosophical documentary, Examined Life.
By the same token, as Žižek
repeatedly reminds his readers, in order to properly enjoy the sensuous fruits
of virtual modernity, we have to disavow the fact that we are all decaying,
defecating animals whose days on this earth are numbered. As undergirdings of
the cultural unconscious, these are facts that we all know at some level. But
to avoid encountering this traumatic shrapnel of the Real, we occlude our
gruesome predicament from plain-view and behave as though it can be ignored out
of existence. From a Lacanian standpoint, this particular brand of magical
thinking is the sanitized stuff of everyday ideology that we all participate
in. There’s no pretense here of being able to escape the snares of ideology,
only a heightened awareness of the extent to which “false consciousness” frames
our shared reality. The best one can hope for, according to these Lacanian
optics, is to make ideology’s operations less opaque so as to have a chance at
expropriating the narrative textures that shape all of our beliefs and
practices.
The film opens with one of
Žižek’s favorite “forgotten masterpieces of the Hollywood Left,” John
Carpenter’s They Live, starring former professional wrestler “Rowdy” Roddy
Piper as George Nada. Piper’s Nada is a destitute construction worker who finds
a box full of sunglasses that, when donned, magically reveal the surfeit of
subliminal messages with which a sinister alien race is bombarding humanity at
all times. Billboards, magazines, dollars bills, and the like are covertly
inundating naive American citizens with injunctions to “consume,” “obey,”
“marry,” and “reproduce” in order to keep them dull and docile.
Žižek dwells on one scene in
particular: when Nada insists that his buddy Frank (Keith David) try on the
glasses to see what lurks behind the veil of civilization, his pal resists
tooth-and-nail, and an over-the-top 6-minute brawl ensues between them. Above
and beyond showcasing Piper’s pro-wrestling chops, for Žižek this ridiculous
scene exemplifies the lengths we are willing to go to in order to avoid
confronting and dismantling the fantasy structures that confer the world with a
sense of intelligibility and our lives with a patina of purpose. It is, Žižek
contends, far easier to relinquish control of our lives than to expose
ourselves to the disorienting effects of unmooring our relationship to the
dominant ideology.
Other ideological
“masterpieces” that Žižek points to are much subtler, precisely because they
occupy more prominent positions in the western cultural imaginary. He reads Jaws as
a condensation of all the “foreign invaders” that privileged societies like
upper-middle-class America worry will disrupt their peaceful communities. Part
of what makes Fiennes’ film such a great showcase for Žižek’s approach to
cultural studies is the persuasive effect of supplementing his explications
with film clips. After listening to Žižek’s account of the ideological
coordinates of the film, it’s difficult not to notice that all of the beach-goers
scrambling to make it to the shore in one piece are affluent white Americans.
His reading of Titanic cuts
right against the grain of its popular cachet. Far from seeing the film as an
inspiring love story about a woman (Rose, played by Kate Winslet) who laudably
transgresses upper-class mores to get together with her pre-ordained but
underprivileged soul-mate (Jack, played by Leonardo DiCaprio), Žižek
characterizes the romance as an example of the fantasy structures that
undergird both the culture of “slumming” (and, by extension, we might add,
gentrification) and the ubiquitous myth of the perfect soul-mate. The real
tragedy of the film, says Žižek, is that, if they had gotten together, after a
few weeks of seemingly illicit sex the fireworks would have subsided and Rose,
the interloping patrician, would have sucked up enough of poor Jack’s zesty
cultural difference to return to upper-crusty culture with renewed zeal. The
life boat scene in which she says she’ll never let her dead love go is so telling
for Žižek because, in the very same breath as she utters these touching words
of endearment, she seems to shove him off into the frozen Atlantic Ocean. The
disaster and Jack’s death are necessary obstacles to preserve the normative
Hollywood fantasy of the perfect couple.
Žižek’s interpretations of The
Sound of Music, Taxi Driver, The Dark Knight, and Coca Cola’s “Coke
Is It” campaign all hit the mark and make ample use of the cinematic platform
to buttress his claims. Others, like his polemical take on The Last
Temptation of Christ as a vehicle for radical atheism, resonate more
tenuously and require the kind of attention he gives them in books like The
Sublime Object of Ideology.
The film’s biggest weakness,
however, pertains to its own ideological coordinates. As a rule, Žižek tends to
waffle expediently on a number of controversial issues (like, for instance, the
sustainability of capitalism), depending on the perceived disposition of the
audience he’s addressing at the time. So, while Fiennes and Žižek devote a
great deal of time exposing the contours of the ideology of European
anti-Semitism, no attention is devoted to the ideological screens that render
US-Israeli foreign policy acceptable to the Western general public. Of course,
Žižek is keenly aware of Palestinian and Middle Eastern Muslims’ pervasive
status as sharks in supposedly otherwise tranquil Israeli waters. But the film
seems to concede to the unviability of broaching this issue to mainstream
Western audiences.
Those interested in the sharpest
versions of his arguments should check out books like First as Tragedy,
which are decisively more antagonistic to Anglo-American sacred cows than this
film or his embarrassingly mealy-mouthed interview with the BBC’s Stephen
Sackur. Whether this colours him as an adroit pedagogical salesman or a craven
hypocrite is probably going to be a function of your own ideological
disposition. Without skipping a beat, Žižek would likely reply that the very
illusion of being able to evade hypocrisy in the socio-symbolic order is the
Right-wing fantasy screen par excellence.
Another seeming blind spot,
though this one isn’t nearly so blameworthy, is the glaring absence of
references to Internet culture. If, as Lacan claims, the unconscious is
structured like a language, in the digital 21st-century, much of it is
constituted by algorithmic bits and bytes in the fiber-optic datastream. Though
speaking to this issue has never been Žižek’s forte (and, given his immense
cognitive talents and encyclopedic knowledge of theory, literature, film, and
opera, it would be obtuse to begrudge him for not spending enough time online),
this state of affairs calls for a third film about the perverse aspects of
Facebook, Google, Mac, and other mediatic platforms whose “user-friendly” interfaces
lure individuals into cycles of addictive “surfing” while inundating us with
increasingly subtle and seductive advertising campaigns. As media critics like
Bernard Stiegler point out, this is a porous and immersive relationship with
our gadgets that renders our daily activities increasingly susceptible to
corporate and governmental surveillance, not to mention previously unthought of
varieties of identity theft. None of this paranoia-inducing terrain would be
beyond the pale for Žižek, given his elaborate theoretical articulation of the
virtual “Big Other,” an imagined and internalized superegoic agency before whom
we are made to believe we need to regiment our behaviour and desires. And it
would likely be edifying and entertaining to hear Žižek’s
anecdotal-philosophical take on our relation to the Big Other in the age of
Facebook status updates and Twitter feeds.
Go see The Pervert’s
Guide to Ideology when it comes out. The film strikes a rare balance
between progressive cultural analysis, entertainment, and philosophical
education. So much so that when the credits roll you’ll find yourself
wondering, eerily, whether you’re applauding Žižek and Fiennes’ tour de force
or merely for the benefit of the Big Other.
Monday, May 27, 2013
The Spectrality of Ayn Rand
http://www.thoughtleader.co.za/jacobarnardnaude/2012/03/26/the-spectrality-of-ayn-rand/
[...]
What makes Zizek’s reading of Rand truly extraordinary is his claim that Roark and Dominique are in fact a lesbian couple. How is this claim possible? Recall that Dominique is portrayed as a feminine hysterical subject obsessed by her desire for the Other. The only way in which she can “have” the Other is for her to pass through the fantasmatic ordeal of an acceptance of indifference – the being that emerges is a “perfected” prime mover and this being is psychically feminine – Roark is a woman. As Zizek puts it: “What Rand was not aware of was that the upright, uncompromising masculine figures with a will of steel with whom she was so fascinated, are effectively figures of the feminine subject liberated from the deadlocks of hysteria.”
[...]
[...]
For Zizek there is an ideological procedure in Rand’s
work that is far more radical than she herself would have admitted. Rand, he
argues, belongs to a line of authors who are “overconformist” and who, by
nature of their very excessive identification with the ruling ideology (welfare
capitalism), achieve a successful subversion of that ideology. How does this
work? Zizek argues that Rand’s “over-orthodoxy was directed at capitalism
itself”. Rand gives us capitalism in its pure, unmediated, basic form.
According to her, “the truly heretical thing today is to embrace the basic
premise of capitalism without its communitarian, collectivist, welfare, etc.
sugar-coating”. In other words, Rand read contemporary capitalism as
“decaffeinated”, not capitalist enough, as is illustrated by the title of one
of her books, Capitalism: the unknown ideal.
Further proof that Rand in fact undermined contemporary
capitalism in the name of a fundamental, pure capitalism, is, according to
Zizek, to be located in her opposition between the “prime movers” and the
“second handers” in her work. The prime mover is independent and autonomous, he
makes no sacrifices and his satisfaction does not depend on the well-being of
others. The prime mover rejects the Hegelian construction of personhood coming
into itself only externally, through the recognition of others. Because the
prime mover is not “contaminated” by others and otherness, he is presented in
Rand as innocent and without hatred or fear. Roark does not hate Toohey, he
simply does not think or care about him. Second handers are followers – they
rely on others, are properly dependent for their happiness on others. The
second handers are the contaminators, diluting and dirtying the pure ideal.
But Zizek turns the atheistic, selfish ethic of the prime
mover, as advocated in Rand’s work, on its head, arguing that the prime mover
is capable of love for others, that it is in fact the love for others that is
properly Randian (or shall we say Roarkian?) in that it is the highest form of
selfishness – turning the other into my love object through whom I satisfy my
innermost drives. In Atlas Shrugged, the withdrawal of the prime movers
from “bureaucratised public life” has disastrous consequences, resulting in global
disintegration. The society of mass men beg the prime movers to return, which
they do, but on their own terms. Zizek reads the ideological procedure here as
being located in a simple answer to the “eternal question”: What moves the
world? Rand’s answer is: the prime movers, of course.
Zizek shows how Rand reverses our everyday evaluation of
the strike as an activity of the workers. In Atlas Shrugged, it is the
capitalists who go on strike and the society disintegrates. It is only their
selfish love for others that saves it. The secret retreat where the capitalists
go operates as close as possible to the capitalist ideal – everything occurs
strictly in accordance with the law of the market – even the word ‘help’ is
prohibited.
Zizek makes a helpful distinction between desire and
drive that can help us to better understand why the prime mover’s love for
others is simply self-love. Here he examines the relationship between Roark and
Dominique, arguing that Roark is the one who is a “being of pure drive” whereas
Dominique is ruled by “desire”. Thus, Roark needs the Other (Dominique) simply
as the (temporary) source of the satisfaction of drive. He is in fact totally
indifferent to her subjectivity – “[a]t the level of drive, [...] one can
dispose of the Other. Dominique, on the other hand is the one who is consumed
by her desire, which, in Zizek’s appropriation of Lacan, is always desire of
the Other. Whereas Roark is indifferent, Dominique is affected. And the
only way for her to be free from this desire is to sacrifice/destroy everything
she cares for. Hence Dominique’s attempts to ruin Roark – the true object of
her desire. And Roark knows this very well, that is why he resists her advances
– Dominique must achieve the shift from desire to drive if she wants to have
him.
Dominique, on the other hand, wants to destroy Roark’s
position of pure drive. The result is a self-destructive dialectic, played out
at its most intense when Dominique furiously whips Roark in what Zizek
describes as an act of self-despair on her part, “an awareness of his hold
over her, of her inability to resist him”. This is paid for by the first sex
scene between them as a brutal rape. Dominique’s tragic predicament lies in the
fact that she knows that the only way for her and Roark to be “an ordinary
couple” is for him to become worthless, in other words, to destroy the very
thing that causes her to desire him – his excessive autonomous creativity.
There is no way out of this deadlock, beautifully
expressed in Dominique’s words: “I want to be owned, not by a lover, but by an
adversary who will destroy my victory over him.” Rand illustrates a fundamental
conflict between the prime movers themselves; and the figure who causes this
conflict is Dominique, the hysterical prime mover. The only resolution to the
destructive dialectics between Roark and Dominique is for her to accept
indifference – she must give up the very core of what makes life worth living
for her, she must “accept the end of the world”.
What makes Zizek’s reading of Rand truly extraordinary is his claim that Roark and Dominique are in fact a lesbian couple. How is this claim possible? Recall that Dominique is portrayed as a feminine hysterical subject obsessed by her desire for the Other. The only way in which she can “have” the Other is for her to pass through the fantasmatic ordeal of an acceptance of indifference – the being that emerges is a “perfected” prime mover and this being is psychically feminine – Roark is a woman. As Zizek puts it: “What Rand was not aware of was that the upright, uncompromising masculine figures with a will of steel with whom she was so fascinated, are effectively figures of the feminine subject liberated from the deadlocks of hysteria.”
[...]
Sunday, May 26, 2013
The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology
“According to our rational
view, ideology is something that we see as interrupting our clear view. We see it as something imposed from
outside. We see it as a pair of glasses that we are forced to wear, that
when we remove we see things clearly. This is inaccurate. Ideology is our spontaneous relationship to
our social world and the way that we perceive meaning. We, in a way, enjoy our ideology. To leave your ideological impulses is
painful. It hurts us. Spontaneously
we live in a lie. The truth can be very
painful. You must be forced to be free.”
Dude, wait. What? Unions in the USA?
[…]
The Koch brothers have set their sights on destroying what
remains of the free press. They are considering buying one of the biggest media
groups in America – the Tribune papers, which comprise eight major
publications, including the Los Angeles Times and the Chicago Tribune.
[…]
also see:
“Who Can Stop the Koch Brothers From Buying the Tribune
Papers? Unions Can, and Should”
By MATT TAIBBI, at:
By MATT TAIBBI, at:
Unfortunately, this is more Rolling Stone “pipe dreams” (pseudo-leftist bong dreams).
Unions in the USA versus big money? Sorry, but it’s a
no-brainer: kochsuckers win.
Will Unions really take root in America?
Not unless the poor see themselves as an exploited proletariat
(instead of seeing themselves as “temporarily embarrassed millionaires”).
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