May 13, 2005
Zarazi, Troll Priestess of the Horde
Friday the 13th May 2005
What do you do, when a seemingly sensible woman confesses to have become “Zarazi, Troll Priestess of the Horde, 2nd Level,” but doubt she was every really that sensible at all. (Sensible is vastly overrated. Zarazi) And search for proof…
Thus, having long wanted to “out” myself and other adult game players, the following:
An Interview with Zarazi, Troll Priestess of the Horde, 2nd Level
The Inquisition: Zarazi, many have held … perhaps mistakenly … that playing games with children becomes the more pleasurable the older we grow; as we, aging, naturally lose our need to win. You have been introduced to this game by your son. Have you not, Zarazi? What say you then, Zarazi, to this belief?
Zarazi, Troll Priestess of the Horde: : To start with, you must admit that had you ever really thought that I was “sensible,” you would not have had anything to do with me. We have both always known that barely beneath the surface lurks a fantasy world both deep and wide that needs just the barest encouragement to emerge.
Clearly my son knows this as well, as he carefully lured me in, first suggesting that I play with making a character of my own and then tossing me into the game. An action he’ll live to regret, I am sure.
In any event, the notion of winning or losing doesn’t seem to apply, or doesn’t apply just yet. I am still in the early stages of character development, level 4 now, by the way. I like the cooperative aspects that are available in the game, but I suspect that it is also possible to fight againt individual players, or in groups. When I get to that point, by all means I would want to win.
On the other hand, it is a fantasy. I chose troll priestess as an initial character to play with. You know you something about me and my fantasies becouse I chose that image instead of a warrior. Lots of room to play though. Who knows what other personna I will be tempted by. Clearly, a dark elf at some point, then maybe a male Tauren, the women just don’t look right. Breasts on a bull don’t quite suit.
Inquiring of the Inquisitor: What is this “out” of which you speak? Surely you don’t mean to suggest that there are those who feel the need to hide, the need to justify their activities. Those cowed (there’s that female bull thing again) by the opinions of the unenlightened.
The Inquisition: Life is not Carnival, Zarazi. There will be no inquiring of The Inquisition, here.
Your imagination tends toward a dangerous order of deliberate monstrosity, cross-sexes and cross-species. Take note, for your own good.
And to what greater witchery do you now pretend at level 4, than that at level 2, so soon lost, unrepeatable, past? Or, by now, already, have you surpassed even that?
Zarazi: Of course life is Carnival. Life’s paradigms turned on their heads or sideways. The game is Carnival, this site is Carnival and the Inquisitor must also answer or why bother to play at all. You have released the editorial demons and let them wander the site. The Inquisitor cannot remain sacrosanct unless he would abandon any claim to editorial integrity.
A dangerous imagination you say? A great compliment, thank you. I’ll keep it in mind. An interesting concern from one who favors using a female avatar because he enjoys the “eye candy”. Be careful whom you accuse of gender confusion. At least I admit to an interest in experimenting. A willingness to explore. Who is the Inquisitor, who is not even “out”, nor willing to discuss going public, to chastise or warn?
Witchy you say. You have mixed your gaming paradigms. There are no “witches” here. Priestess, mage, warlord, shaman. Priestess I am, at least in this incarnation. But, alas, I am still at level four. The son is hogging the computer. He has chastened me for my lack of speed and directed me to the WOW beginners site. Unnatural child! He tires of my questions. And so soon after Mother’s Day. Ingrate!!!
However, you are wrong, as usual, with respect to the past. Perhaps it cannot be repeated, but it is eminently “replayable” again and again. An integral aspect of the game.
The Inquisition: Vanity of vanities, Zarazi. A self-proclaimed “Priestess of the Horde” who prays to no known, to no true God; who practices and aspires to unreal spirtual healing, even unto the virtual resurrection of the dead; who casts and endeavors to master the art of magical spells; such an arrogant mere troll of a woman, puffed up in her own knowing and pretentions to knowing, is ever and always a witch, and no more, her soul thus blackened for all eternity in every book but her own.
Vanity of vanities, Zarazi. Remember the words of he who was king over Israel in Jerusalem. Recall the vanity of the argumentative spirit, equally restless in triumph as in defeat, you who also have given your heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly, to no avail:
And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven: this sore travail hath God given to the sons of man to be exercised therewith.
I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
I communed with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have been before me in Jerusalem: yea, my heart had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.
And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit.
Vanity of vanities, Zarazi. You may argue and rail against this humble servant of The One True Lord, Who Sees and Parses All, all you please, for clearly it pleases your crooked heart to do so. But neither will you find peace nor move this servant from His service.
Come, Zarazi, abandon the vain rants, the empty breath, the unsignfying signifiers of your argumentative ways. Unburden your soul. Speak directly, honestly the words of your deeds, black though they may be, in the World of Warcraft. For only through such words, accurate, detailed, exhaustive and repeated, may The One True Lord, who sees and parses all, be moved to mercy, to direct to their redemption other wayward souls from the World of Warcraft, here, to these pages of the Inquisition.
Zarazi: The Inquisitor, like all Inquisitors, is simply a voyeur, seeking to slake his prurient hunger vicariously, through my world, in lieu of creating his own. He would hear of my early battles with the Mottled Boar, wherein, as a virgin, a neophyte in this world, I sought and survived my first kill. He would hear of my battle with Scorpids and the extraction of their venom, of my slaying of the Vile Familiars of the Coven of the Burning Blade in my quest to retrieve the Medallion of the Burning Blade. He would hear of the simple spells I have acquired, of Smite and Shadow Pain, the casting spells which serve to increase my powers and enable me to survive. But even if I tell you of my quests and my hard gained knowledge Inquisitor, it will not be enough. It will not slake you hunger for this world, this World of Warcraft, wherein you desire to play, but have not the courage.
Inquisitor, when will you put aside this false quasi god-like mein in which you have cloaked yourself seeking to hide your true persona? When will you find the strength to lay it aside and revel in the possibilities of this world?
The Inquisition: Do not trouble yourself with the state of my soul, Zarazi, so called “Troll Priestess of the Horde,” when your own stands in such peril.
Your last reply, however, is gratifying. We have made some small progress here. Perhaps the most that may be expected in a first session with as yet unrepentant troll females. Yes, enough for the present. May it please The Lord, Who Sees and Parses All.
Guards, come. Return this witch to her cell.
March 23, 2005
Conjunctive Points
March 4, 2005
To Catch a Thief
Grace Kelly: John….
Grace Kelly: John….
Grace Kelly: Are you going to make it hard for me to apologize?
Cary Grant: Not at all. I’m sure you’re sorry.
Grace Kelly: You know I am. Til mother told me, I had no idea the things you were up against.
Cary Grant: Well.
Grace Kelly: What are your plans now?
Cary Grant: Now what?
Grace Kelly: That the cat burgler’s dead.
Cary Grant: Foussard isn’t The Cat.
Grace Kelly: But the newspapers….
Cary Grant: The man had a wooden leg.
Grace Kelly: Wasn’t he caught at a villa trying to rob it?
Cary Grant: He wasn’t trying to rob it. He was trying to kill…me.
Grace Kelly: Why?
Cary Grant: Because I was getting too close to The Cat.
Grace Kelly: Then who killed him?
Cary Grant: If I ever find that out, I’ll let you know. Goodbye, Francie.
Grace Kelly: John, why bother?
To Catch a Thief, Produced and Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (1955)
March 3, 2005
Fortune is a Woman
January 18, 2005
Bush Baby-Boomers Take Care of Their Own
GEN-X BEWARE! And all you ever-ambiguous Blank Generation folk, among whom I number myself, you ought to wake up too.
For once again, the post-war Baby-Boomers, arguably the most pampered, selfish and programmatically self-indulgent generation in American history, are preparing to take care of themselves at the direct expense of their younger brothers and sisters, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
At least, that’s the impression one gets reading the Bush-Cato Social Security Administration’s online Frequently Asked Questions About Social Security’s Future.
(Also beware that under the Bush administration we live in an Orwellian world where official government websites frequently change their ‘facts and figures’ with political calculus, so the following quoted passages may no longer be there when you go to look.)
But as it stands at this writing, the Social Security Administration’s official FAQ About Social Security’s Future is a powerful object lesson in the crude directness of the ‘divide and conquer’ strategy the Bush administration is already deploying in hope of obtaining the Holy Grail of the Republican Right, the destruction of Social Security and the humane social compact of the New Deal that underlies it: that we Americans live by something higher than the law of the jungle, that we are in deed as well as word our brother’s keeper.
And Gen-Xers, that brother is you.
Let’s take the Social Security Administration’s FAQ About Social Security’s Future from the top, question by question, descending age bracket by age bracket, and see what the Cato Institute has in store for each of us.
|
|
I am retired and receiving a monthly check from Social Security. Are my monthly payments going to be cut? |
|
No, there are no plans to cut benefits for current retirees. In fact, benefits will continue to be increased each year with inflation. |
Over 67. You’re doing just fine. Relax. Go back to sleep. Take your pills. Don’t come out to vote or write Congress on this one. Enjoy the benefits of the system you wisely counted on and defended all your life. It’s there for you.
Screw your grandkids. The damn ingrates, never visit and never think of anyone but themselves anyway.
|
|
I’ll be retiring in the next five to 10 years. Can I expect my presently scheduled benefits to be paid to me at retirement? |
|
|
Many reform plans, including those put forth by the President’s Commission to Strengthen Social Security, preserve scheduled benefits, including cost- of-living increases, for near-retirees. Depending on the proposal, a "near-retiree" is defined as someone aged 50 to 55 and older. |
Oh ho, Baby-Boomers, here you are. Your generation’s bloated numbers are supposed to be the cause of this "Social Security Crisis." You’re the reason Bush claims we need to destroy this system in order to save it.
But what does this administration promise Baby-Boomers, the most pampered, selfish and programmatically self-indulgent generation in American history?
Surprise, surprise. The Baby Boomers are going to "grandfather" themselves in!
Everything will be just fine. No reason to raise a stink about what happens to someone else. The selfish joy ride of life just continues, as it should. After all, Bush himself is a Baby-Boomer, perhaps the paradigmatic Baby-Boomer of our times.
|
|
My parents are receiving Social Security payments. Should I be worried that their monthly checks will be cut and that I will have to make up the difference? |
|
|
No, there are no plans to reduce benefits for current retirees. In fact, benefits will continue to grow annually with inflation. |
A sleight of hand detour from the descent from age bracket to age bracket. Here is where the FAQ should address the future Social Security prospects of Generation X and the slightly older and edgier Blank Generation.
And perhaps it is, singing its siren song: Don’t worry, there’s no danger you’ll ever have to cough up for your parents.
Pay no attention to the man behind the green curtain and his plans for you.
|
|
I am receiving disability benefits from Social Security. Should I be worried that my monthly check will be cut? |
|
|
Most plans, including those put forth by the President’s Commission to Strengthen Social Security, do not reduce the benefits of currently disabled beneficiaries. |
Being disabled. The detour continues. In the future Bush and the Cato Institute have in store, if you’re not rich, disability’s about as nice a piece of work as you can get, regardless your race, creed, color, sex or age, if you can get it. Maybe we should all start planning on disability now.
After all, that also marvelously gets around the Clinton administration’s nobly passed "term-limits" on welfare recipients.
|
|
I’m 35 years old. If nothing is done to improve Social Security, what can I expect to receive in retirement benefits from the program? |
|
|
Unless changes are made, at age 73 your scheduled benefits could be reduced by 27 percent and could continue to be reduced every year thereafter from presently scheduled levels. |
Suddenly, we’re 35. What happened to the 40-somethings? Never mind them. It’s you thirty year olds who are in deep trouble. You and your peers better get with the program now. Without Bush, there’s nothing in Social Security for you.
Since you’re Gen-X, we suspect you never really learned how to add and subtract. So we’re rather sure you won’t notice that even Bush & Company’s pessimistic projections of the draw on the trust fund, at age 73, you will have already been receiving full benefits for six years and, at least if you are male, your life expectancy is only a few years more.
So just don’t look at the fact that, as a simple selfish bet, it’s really touch and go whether you’d want to change anything, even if the whole system were really to go to the dogs after you.
No! No! Panic Now! Support the President!
|
|
I’m 25 years old. If nothing is done to change Social Security, what can I expect to receive in retirement benefits from the program? |
|
|
Unless changes are made, when you reach age 63 in 2042, benefits for all retirees could be cut by 27 percent and could continue to be reduced every year thereafter. If you lived to be 100 years old in 2079 (which will be more common by then), your scheduled benefits could be reduced by 33 percent from today’s scheduled levels. |
So you’re 25. Oh my! Lucky you. Unlike any previous human generation on the face of the planet, you’re going to live forever! Strong! Healthy! Invincible! At 100! No sense looking out for anyone else. Just grab all you can for yourself. You can do it. And George Bush is here to help you.
No sense throwing away your hard earned dollars on a broken system designed to take care of all those sick old people who are just going to die anyway. The future is yours further than the eye can see.
We’re absolutely certain you haven’t learned jack-shit in the schools we barely provided for you, so you won’t have heard anything about the Hayflick Limit or any of the more prosaic evidence of diminishing returns on further medical "miracles" that contribute to extending human life.
Never mind that if things go Bush’s way, fewer and fewer of you will have access to that kind of health care anyway, as you live out your years in an increasingly polluted, life-shortening, Texas-style environment.
And we know that, unless you’re an immigrant, you know even less math than Generation X, so there’s no chance you’ll notice that no privatization program currently proposed or even imagined is going to fully fund the retirement of anyone living to 100. Social Security, even paying 33% less than today’s scheduled levels, beats privatization hands down if you’re still planning to live that long.
Never mind. Never mind. Don’t listen. Plug in that iPod, buy those iTunes, and support your iPresident.
——–
So did you get that Gen-Xers?
Did you notice that gap? That here, as throughout the current public debate over the so-called "Social Security Crisis," you’ve become the unmentionable generation, conveniently omitted from the Bush Baby-Boomer’s right-wing plans to divide and conquer, destroying Social Security for you and your children, all the while taking care of themselves and their generation?
Better wake up and take a lesson from the generational playbook of your selfish elders:
Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.
–Bob Dylan (1963)
January 16, 2005
Hallowed Halls
December 24, 2004
Why bother about WhyBother.org?
What a pain, a nuisance, annoyance, what trouble, what a bother and botheration it is to inconvenience oneself, to overstrain, extend oneself, to get all hyped up, psyched up, to overexert oneself, all set to trouble oneself, almost kill oneself just to maintain a “vanity” web site year after year after year! Now in the vainest of all vain glories, a blog format.
Why Bother? After all, the net takes you nowhere….
In any event, I have no answer to those questions. Nor do I need any.
Whybother.org was formally created as a website on August 26, 1999. But “Why Bother” as a vague kind of virtual dis-organization, with a finite but shadowy membership, has a much longer history, reaching back into the deep dark recesses of mid-1970’s Berkeley.
My lips are sealed….
But in anticipatory celebration of the New Year, I thought why not fly the old flag, yet one more time? Why not display WhyBother.org’s original (and excessive) background and splash site artwork?
So here they are with their original site section titles, each one an incredibly degraded palimpsest of bad visual technologies, each on its own a little object lesson in much abused “Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” as Walter Benjamin (Illuminations) said in the middle of the last century, now extended digitally into the next:
December 23, 2004
Tropic of Cancer
From Narrative Detours: Henry Miller and the Rise of New Critical Modernism (1989)
Introduction: “I want to make a detour….”
I want to make a detour of those lofty arid mountain ranges where one dies of thirst and cold, that “extra-temporal” history, that absolute of time and space where there exists neither man, beast, nor vegetation, where one goes crazy with loneliness, with language that is mere words, where everything is unhooked, ungeared, out of joint with the times. I want a world of men and women, of trees that do not talk (because there is too much talk in the world as it is!), of rivers that carry you to places, not rivers that are legends, but rivers that put you in touch with other men and women, with architecture, religion, plants, animals–rivers have boats on them and in which men drown, drown not in myth and legend and books and dust of the past, but in time and space and history.
Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
Few products of the self-styled “Revolution of the Word” of the 1920s and 1930s have proved more disturbing to our sense of what is or ought to be valued art than Tropic of Cancer (1934), Black Spring (1936), and Tropic of Capricorn (1939).[1] Other modernist novels, more radical and more conventional, move in and out of critical and public view, but for half a century Henry Miller‘s expatriate narratives have visibly marked the contentious boundary between “good” and “bad” art, “serious literature” and “popular fiction,” “aesthetic creation” and “pornographic exploitation.” Since he first appeared in the “twilight of the expatriates” as “the spokesman, par excellence, for the Left Bank,” Miller has inspired the fervid efforts of advocates and adversaries seeking to establish his centrality to modern American literature and life, or to expunge him from literary and even popular imagination.[2] In neither direction have these partisan efforts succeeded. Miller’s work continues to sell, influence contemporary fiction, and provoke violent debate whenever raised. Instead of settling the “Miller question,” the debate over Miller’s place in American letters has complicated and raised the stakes of an “answer.” Feminists, from Kate Millet to Catharine MacKinnon, have joined in improbable alliance with Miller’s partisans in impugning the methods and motives of those who would hold Miller at a tasteful distance from the literary tradition.[3] Attempts to strike a more dispassionate critical balance between the claims of Miller’s friends and foes have proved inadequate, mixing hot and cold to produce the kind of lukewarm “assessment” that gives academic criticism the reputation of irrelevance: no one can read very far into Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring or Tropic of Capricorn without realizing that an “open mind” is the most inappropriate of responses. Miller emerged with a generation of writers who cultivated controversy as a sign of success in challenging established literary canons; almost alone he has remained controversial, in good conscience neither acceptable nor dismissible. Through five decades of criticism the refrain runs, “This fellow can write: but[….]”[4]
The debate over Miller’s proper place inside or outside our mainstream literary tradition has obscured the more intriguing historical questions posed by the ambiguous position he already occupies and has occupied since the 1930s. Miller has been that most paradoxical of literary creatures, a “minor writer” with “major relevance” (Kingsley Widmer), a writer whose works are critically devalued and politically denounced, but whose influence upon urban American writing from the Beats of the fifties to the New Journalism of the seventies and eighties is as pronounced as Faulkner’s upon southern and rural fiction.[5] I propose to explore the phenomenon of Miller’s ambiguous status. How has the modern literary tradition been constructed that a manifestly serious and influential novelist can be both “minor” and “major,” without and within, at the same time? What is it about Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring, and Tropic of Capricorn that has made them the object of a fifty-year open debate over literary and cultural values–continuing even as literary criticism parted company with that magisterial arbiter of taste, the gentleman scholar, in order to immerse itself in technical, linguistic and philosophic questions of textual hermeneutics?
Answers to these questions might be sought at any point in the history of the reception of Miller’s expatriate narratives, a history which includes his subsequent novels and essays. Forty-eight years old when he returned to America after nearly a decade in Paris, Miller outlived most of his fellow expatriates, continuing to write for another four decades until his death in 1979. These later additions to Miller’s oeuvre inevitably reshaped the meaning of his Paris narratives, which, like Miller himself, led a varied public life after the onset of the Second World War ended “The Revolution of the Word.” The American publication of Miller’s “banned books” under the banner of “freedom of expression” in the early 1960s, and Kate Millet’s feminist indictment in Sexual Politics (1969) of the “sexual liberation” this “freedom” was supposed to herald, initiated major shifts in the terms under which Miller’s “value” has been debated. But Miller’s ambiguous position in American letters antedates and survives these developments. Already in 1938, Edmund Wilson’s review of Tropic of Cancer for The New Republic uncannily anticipates the polarized outline, if not the precise terms, of all subsequent debate over Miller’s work: “Today the conventional critics are evidently too shocked by it to be able to bring themselves to deal with it–though their neglect of it cannot wholly have been determined by the reflex reactions of squeamishness. [….] As for the Left-Wingers, they have ignored The Tropic of Cancer on the ground that it is merely a product of the decadent expatriate culture and can be of no interest to the socially minded and forward-looking present.”[6]
If Wilson’s review anticipates the tenor of ensuing dispute over Miller, it sounds a note that has escaped most subsequent critics. According to Wilson, the “historical importance” of Tropic of Cancer lies in Miller’s attempt to write “the epitaph for the whole generation of American writers and artists that migrated to Paris after the war.” “We are going to put it down–the evolution of this world which has died but which has not been buried,” Miller wrote, setting out upon a polemical “detour” to change the direction “The Revolution of the Word” was taking.[7] Miller’s ambition was unduly optimistic; Wilson’s assent too sanguine.[8] As readers, writers, and critics we still live, affirmatively or antithetically, in the shadow of the consensus forged by a “Lost Generation” they thought dead and awaiting burial. Frustrated in its grand design, Miller’s challenge to the aesthetic values and interpretive conventions successfully advanced by many of his fellow expatriates succeeded only in installing his narrative modernism proximate to–ambiguously inside and outside–our canon of “New Critical” modernism. In consequence, even after fifty years Miller’s language has a strangely contemporary sound: his narrative modernism gives voice to intimations of modernity omitted from the “mythic” and “symbolist” consensus that formed high modernism. But equally, Miller’s narrative dissent has placed his novels outside the interpretive conventions that give us ready, empathetic access to the coherence, structure, and intention of canonical texts, rendering his alternative modernism vulnerable to social and political criticism for what, though manifest throughout the received modern tradition, we tend to excuse or extenuate in the name of Art, Irony, and Tragic error. The controversy Miller’s expatriate novels are still capable of stirring is but another indication that we have yet to come to terms with the legacy of his generation’s literary battles.
It is Miller’s historically close and antithetical relation to the writers and critics whose work would form the basis of New Critical modernism that, more than his Whitmanesque “barbaric yawp,” has made it difficult to “read” Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring, and Tropic of Capricorn as anything other than second-rate Modernism or an “anti-literature” indifferent to aesthetic considerations. Miller’s expatriate works are neither. They embody an ambitious writer’s calculated response to the debate over the shape of the “New Novel” he joined in 1930–the year the first “guidebook” to the “classical” Ulysses, James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’: A Study by Stuart Gilbert, ratified and elaborated Eliot’s strident declaration in “‘Ulysses,’ Order, and Myth,” “Instead of narrative method, we may now use the mythical method.”[9] Discerning the formation of a literary and critical alliance, Miller intuited its transformative power even as he sought to resist it:
Already, almost coincidentally with their appearance, we have, as a result of Ulysses and Work in Progress, nothing but dry analyses, archaeological burrowings, geological surveys, laboratory tests of the Word. The commentators, to be sure, have only begun to chew on Joyce. The Germans will finish him. They will make Joyce palatable, understandable, clear as Shakespeare, better than Joyce, better than Shakespeare. Wait! The mystagogues are coming![10]
It is paradoxically Miller’s attention in formulating his narrative strategy to the politics of modern aesthetic debate–his prescient engagement with that coalition of writers, critics, and theorists who would successfully reshape twentieth-century aesthetics in their own image–that has left him an inexplicable, harsh voice on the margins of “the modern tradition.” Miller’s radically digressive, free-flowing prose style advances a post-realist/post-naturalist “narrative method” that closely pursues and disputes, almost point for point, the then emerging “mythic” consensus. Resembling Leopold Bloom’s wandering excursions through the streets of Dublin, Miller’s narrative method suggests, but in whole and in part refuses, the symbolic, mythic, and perspectival integration that has become fundamental to our sense of what “truly” Modern texts are “about.” As a consequence of Miller’s own efforts, any attempt to pursue a “close reading” of his Paris narratives as if they were New Critical texts is an experience in frustration: Miller seems either a writer who knows what he ought to do but can’t do it, or a writer who doesn’t know what he’s doing but occasionally does it–“it” being some recognizable, interpretable, and hence valuable variation of what Ulysses, the paradigmatic novel of New Critical modernism, does so thoroughly when “read closely.”
If Miller’s more explicit diatribes against Joyce receive some notice, the extent to which his narratives embody a thoroughgoing critique remains largely unexplored–the very idea that a writer as “undisciplined” as Miller might mount anything approaching a “serious” challenge to Ulysses seems preposterous. But we view Ulysses through a long history of adulatory exegesis, forgetting that Eliot’s influential unveiling of the “Order, and Myth” of Ulysses served an occasional, polemical purpose: to fend off Richard Aldington’s charge that Joyce’s was a “great undisciplined talent” and his work “an invitation to chaos, and an expression of feelings which are perverse, partial, and a distortion of reality.”[11] When Miller wrote, “Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood,” it was still a resonant call to battle and not yet hollow vanity.[12] The hegemony of New Critical modernism–the naturalization of interpretive techniques that give us ready access to the coherence, structure, and intention of canonical texts–has replaced Joyce’s modernist “experiment,” first among equals, with the one and only, insurmountable Modernist “monument.” To recover the structure, coherence, and intention of Miller’s narrative “experiment” it is necessary to effect an imaginative return to Paris of the 1920s and 1930s, to the vociferous debate over the shape of the “New Novel,” and to the polemical “detour” that first took Miller to the margins of twentieth-century literature.
Read as one of many expatriate efforts to wrest control of the modern novel’s future, Miller’s Paris narratives, and especially Tropic of Cancer, reveal a dense weave of “tactical” allusions, engaging not “myth and legend and books and dust of the past” according to Eliotic prescription, but the contemporary positions, literary and critical, of Miller’s Modernist rivals. Through such allusions Tropic of Cancer‘s declaration of intention–“I want to make a detour[….]” (epigraph to this introduction)–specifies the aesthetics around which its narrative seeks a path. As the phrasing of this manifesto suggests, Miller’s response to the emerging Modernist consensus involves no broadside denigration of Joyce’s achievement in Ulysses and “Work in Progress,” but rather a canny challenge to these works as interpreted by Louis Gillet in transition (“‘extra-temporal history'”), by Edmund Wilson in Axel’s Castle (where the talking tree and stone, and river puns of Anna Livia Plurabelle were cited to evaluate “Work in Progress”), and by T. S. Eliot in “‘Ulysses,’ Order, and Myth.” The argument uniting these allusions draws upon the “meta-fiction” novelists and their critical partisans have always invoked to legitimate their formal innovations over and against all others: the novel is “the historical genre,” distinguished by its protean ability to embody and represent the historical forces that constitute a changing world. Miller turns the rhetoric of the novel’s historicity to his own ends, insinuating that the “mystagogues” who read and value in Joyce’s novels an “‘extra-temporal history,’ that absolute of time and space […] and mere words,” are but revealing and canonizing Ulysses and “Work in Progress” as dead ends in the genealogy of the novel: the “true” modern novel must follow Tropic of Cancer‘s narrative “detour” to return to the proper path of “the historical genre” through “time and space and history.” The generic discourse of Miller’s dissent points to the vitality of an aesthetic debate broader than any linear, genealogical approach to the novel’s history, however “revisionary,” can discern–a debate within which New Critical modernism, Miller’s narrative modernism, and many other contending “modernisms” were first forged and only subsequently obscured.
This essay proceeds as a “local study” in the history of the modern novel, using the instance of Henry Miller‘s Paris narratives and their ambiguous place in our received tradition to test the grounds of a literary history attentive to the formation of literary values, tracing their genesis and legacy in dissent as well as assent. How can we, as literary historians, recover from the “texts” we examine a sense of the past that is something more than a linear genealogy of “great, influential works” around which lies a disordered library of “lesser works,” “curiosities,” and “failures” into which we periodically venture to “invent” new “usable pasts,” new genealogies of “great works”? My local study of a most controversial novelist, who for so long and for so many highly charged reasons has been held at arm’s length from the Modernist canon, is intended to suggest the outlines of an answer. If attention to the aesthetic discourse within which coalitions of writers and critics vie for the authority to promulgate “the tradition” discloses a heretofore unsuspected density and coherence to Miller’s narrative and aesthetic polemics, such an approach is likely to do the same for other apparent “detours,” past and present, from the literary genealogy New Critical modernism traces back to Homer. At stake is not simply Miller’s “place” within a divisive twentieth-century literature, but our understanding of other alternatives to New Critical modernism, less controversial, whose polemical engagement in “serious” novelistic discourse yet remains concealed beneath the literary and critical consensus first forged in the 1920s and 1930s.
Two relatively recent developments in literary scholarship signal a renewed need for literary history as an integrative mode of analysis, even as they undermine the premises that once made literary history a matter of checking biographies, tracing influences, and constructing of these the literary genealogies of Great Writers and Great Works. The first is the “deconstructive” critique of hermeneutics, which has dispossessed the text of that isolate, self-contained structural integrity of meaning which the New Critics viewed as the key to interpretation and cultural value. Perhaps more important, the second development is the renewed interest in the values and techniques of those works from which high modernism and New Criticism maintained a studied distance: realism, naturalism, ethnic/local color, and proletarian literature. Feminist scholarship, with its search for difference in writing and its desire to recover women’s experience, has participated in and energized both these developments. The result on all scores has been an “information explosion” in literary studies which, I believe, awaits a renewed sense of literary history to weigh, distribute, relate, and assimilate; for only a sense of history, and not the theoretical imagination, however “decentered,” can juggle the simultaneous and sequential proliferation of competing views and values which the current “explosion” discovers to be constituent of our literary past and present.
Yet in the face of this task, literary history remains in quest of its own grounds. How does one locate the meaning of a text and its relations to other texts when meaning seems no longer a property of the text and every text appears an “intertext” equally related and unrelated to every other text? Where does one place the “canon” and how does one recognize its imaginative power when a vast body of once “marginal” works and literatures are subject to an increasing scrutiny which has had the effect of making the “canon” suddenly appear “marginal” itself, a preoccupation of a few individuals and institutions dwarfed by the onward rush of popular culture and history? This essay explores the possibility of a literary history in the current critical landscape: one capable of asking not what or how texts mean, but what they have meant; one capable of describing the literary and interpretive acts whereby the aesthetic hegemony of New Critical modernism was first forged and then sustained in the face of many alternatives. To find such a capability is to make it possible to ask a new, distinctively historical set of questions concerning the “meaning” and “place” of Miller’s expatriate narratives. How must we read Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring, and Tropic of Capricorn in order to understand them in dialogic relation with other modernist “experiments” such as Joyce’s Ulysses–more simply, how did Miller’s narratives speak to the contemporary struggle to define the nature of modern literature? And, in turn, how must we narrate literary and critical history in order to explain how among many competing modernist “experiments” some, but not Miller’s, became Modernist “monuments”? It is through these two questions and their interrelation that I hope to retain for this essay in the history of the modern novel some of the rigor of “close reading” lost to more sweeping accounts, and as well to lend broader and, I intend, unsettling implication to such a local study of a “minor” modernist.
NOTES
[1] Epigraph: Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer (Paris: The Obelisk Press, 1934; New York: Grove Press, 1961; New York: Ballantine Books, 1973), 231.
[2] Edmund Wilson, “The Twilight of the Expatriates,” in A Literary Chronicle: 1920-1950 (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company-Doubleday Anchor Books, n.d.), 212. This is a collection derived from Classics and Commercials (New York: Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1950) and Shores of Light (New York: Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1952). “The Twilight of the Expatriates” first appeared in The New Republic (March 9, 1938).
[3] Kate Millet opens Sexual Politics (New York: Doubleday and Company, 1970; New York: Avon Books, 1971) with an explicit attack upon literary history, narrowly conceived, and “New Criticism”:
It has been my conviction that the adventure of literary criticism is not restricted to a dutiful round of adulation, but is capable of seizing upon the larger insights which literature affords into the life it describes, or interprets, or even distorts. [….] I have also found it reasonable to take an author’s ideas seriously when, like the novelists covered in this study, they wish to be taken seriously or not at all. Where I have substantive quarrels with some of these ideas, I prefer to argue on those very grounds, rather than to take cover under tricks of the trade and mask disagreement with “sympathetic readings” or the still more dishonest pretense that the artist is “without skill” or a “poor technician.” (Sexual Politics, 12)
Protesting the critical marginalization of Miller’s work, Millet writes: “The anxiety and contempt which Miller registers toward the female sex is at least as important and generally felt as the more diplomatic or ‘respectful’ version presented to us in conventional writing,” in which Millet includes “not only traditional courtly, romantic and Victorian sentiment, but even that of other moderns [such as] Conrad, Joyce, even Faulkner” (Sexual Politics, 389).
Extending Millet’s suspicion that Miller is excluded because his inclusion would reveal the misogyny of the “tradition,” Catharine MacKinnon writes: “sometimes I think that the real issue is how male sexuality is presented, so that anything can be done to a woman, but obscenity is sex that makes male sexuality look bad.” She gives new sense to the ideology of “protecting innocence”: “is it just chance that the first film to be found obscene by a state supreme court depicts male masturbation? [….] Did works like Lady Chatterley’s Lover and Tropic of Cancer get in trouble because male sexuality is depicted in a way that men think is dangerous for women and children to see?” (Catharine MacKinnon, “Not a Moral Issue” in Feminism Unmodified [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987], 154, 270n.).
[4] Jay Martin, Always Merry and Bright: The Life of Henry Miller (Santa Barbara, Calif.: Capra Press, 1978; New York: Penguin Books, 1980), 317. Martin quotes George Bernard Shaw, apparently the first to strike this note about Miller: “This fellow can write: but he has failed to give any artistic value to his verbatim reports of bad language.” Evidently, iconoclasm is not made of the same stuff from generation to generation. Frank Kermode took up the refrain: “Everybody agrees that Miller can write[….]” (Frank Kermode, “Henry Miller and John Betjeman,” Puzzles and Epiphanies, reprinted in part in Edward B. Mitchell, ed., Henry Miller: Three Decades of Criticism [New York: New York University Press, 1971], 94).
[5] Kingsley Widmer, Henry Miller (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1963), 157.
[6] Edmund Wilson, “The Twilight of the Expatriates,” A Literary Chronicle: 1920-1950, 212.
[7] Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, 24.
[8] As editor, advocate, publicist, central author and creator of Obelisk Press’s “Villa Seurat Series,” Miller tried to gather the adherents necessary to remake a literature during his final years in Paris, but his effort was overtaken by the coming war. He returned to America alone, prepared to pursue new interests.
[9] T. S. Eliot, “‘Ulysses,’ Order, and Myth,” in Selected Prose of T. S. Eliot, ed. Frank Kermode (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich and Farrar, Straus and Giroux–A Harvest/Noonday Book, 1975), 178. Eliot’s essay was first published in Dial, November 1923.
[10] Henry Miller, “The Universe of Death from The World of Lawrence,” in Henry Miller, The Cosmological Eye (1939; New York: New Directions Paperbook, 1961), 114. The World of Lawrence was written contemporaneously with the revisions of Tropic of Cancer. Abandoned, it was not published in its entirety until the year of Miller’s death. (Santa Barbara, Calif.: Capra Press, 1980). The Cosmological Eye, the first collection of Miller’s Paris work published in America, contains a number of essays originally published in Max and the White Phagocytes (Paris: The Obelisk Press-Seurat Editions, 1938).
[11] T. S. Eliot, “‘Ulysses,’ Order, and Myth,” in Selected Prose of T. S. Eliot, 176.
[12] Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn (Paris: The Obelisk Press-Seurat Editions, 1939; New York: Grove Press, 1961), 170. Miller’s direct allusion is to Henri Bergson’s discussion of “The Idea of Disorder” in Creative Evolution (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1911; New York: Random House-The Modern Library, 1944), 240-258.
Copyright 1989 Raoul R. Ibarguen All Rights Reserved.
December 19, 2004
Bush’s Social InSecurity Plan
Just keeping track of the shifting lies, misrepresentations and bait-and-switch tactics of the Bush Administration as it slithers toward that Holy Grail of Right-Wing American politics, the dismemberment and destruction of the New Deal’s Covenant with America, the 1935 Social Security Act, is a dizzying, mind-numbing task.
And it’s meant to be.
It’s among the most fundamental of discoveries of the early masters of effective political propaganda in media-dominated, mass societies — Hearst, Lenin, Mussolini, Hitler — that one’s ideological opponents can be kept permanently off balance and ineffective, endlessly marshalling armies of difficult little facts and seemingly condescending appeals to reason and rationality against the easy big lie that one can tell, re-tell, not tell, offer, modify or drop at a moment’s notice. To the effective political propagandist “facts” and “reasons” are just so many deployable, imaginative fictions in a world come unanchored where any hesitation, any self-restraint for fear of inconsistency is nothing but foolish, indeed, “the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.” Nothing Karl Rove would have any truck with.
And so it’s liable to be all for naught, the mushrooming industry of liberal bloggers, columnists, and pundits now laboring, in detail, to answer, refute and, worst of all, strategize a Democratic response to the economics and injustice of a Bush plan for privatizing social security that doesn’t yet exist in any detail and — you can bet your bottom dollar — won’t exist in any detail until the last legislative minute possible.
But if one must, the best place to go to satisfy any but the most insatiable appetite for exposure of Bush’s and the rest of the right-wing’s lies about Social Security and their own proposals to “reform” and “save” it into non-existence is to Paul Krugman’s Op-Ed columns in The New York Times. Though an academic, intellectual, Princeton ivory-tower economist of the first order and (horror of horrors!) a writer of college textbooks on the subject, Krugman almost always manages a no-nonsense, straight-from-the-hip directness in his columns about issues of political economy. He achieves a voice of American middle-class check-book common sense which eludes most other pundits and bloggers, as all too many lose their way and their readers trying to prove they really do know something about the issue they’re arguing. On that score, Professor Krugman has the marvelous advantage of having absolutely nothing to prove.
Unfortunately, The New York Times is now fast-tracking its Op-Ed content into its fee-based archive so rapidly that, if you don’t stay apace week by week, you’re out of luck and either have to pay a couple dollars apiece for the privilege or wait for Krugman’s next anthology if you want or need to look back through Krugman’s points in this ongoing debate.
For the too poor and too impatient, here are a few samples of Krugman’s basic, just plain, fundamentally informative writing, excerpted from his three most recent columns on Social Security:
Inventing a Crisis, December 7, 2004
There’s nothing strange or mysterious about how Social Security works: it’s just a government program supported by a dedicated tax on payroll earnings, just as highway maintenance is supported by a dedicated tax on gasoline.
Right now the revenues from the payroll tax exceed the amount paid out in benefits. This is deliberate, the result of a payroll tax increase – recommended by none other than Alan Greenspan – two decades ago. His justification at the time for raising a tax that falls mainly on lower- and middle-income families, even though Ronald Reagan had just cut the taxes that fall mainly on the very well-off, was that the extra revenue was needed to build up a trust fund. This could be drawn on to pay benefits once the baby boomers began to retire.
The grain of truth in claims of a Social Security crisis is that this tax increase wasn’t quite big enough. Projections in a recent report by the Congressional Budget Office (which are probably more realistic than the very cautious projections of the Social Security Administration) say that the trust fund will run out in 2052. The system won’t become “bankrupt” at that point; even after the trust fund is gone, Social Security revenues will cover 81 percent of the promised benefits. Still, there is a long-run financing problem.
But it’s a problem of modest size. The report finds that extending the life of the trust fund into the 22nd century, with no change in benefits, would require additional revenues equal to only 0.54 percent of G.D.P. That’s less than 3 percent of federal spending – less than we’re currently spending in Iraq. And it’s only about one-quarter of the revenue lost each year because of President Bush’s tax cuts – roughly equal to the fraction of those cuts that goes to people with incomes over $500,000 a year.
Given these numbers, it’s not at all hard to come up with fiscal packages that would secure the retirement program, with no major changes, for generations to come.
Borrow, Speculate and Hope, December 10, 2004
Privatization would begin by diverting payroll taxes, which pay for current Social Security benefits, into personal investment accounts. The government, already deep in deficit, would have to borrow to make up the shortfall.
This would sharply increase the government’s debt. Never mind, privatization advocates say: in the long run, they claim, people would make so much on personal accounts that the government could save money by cutting retirees’ benefits….
Even so, if personal investment accounts were invested in Treasury bonds, this whole process would accomplish precisely nothing. The interest workers would receive on their accounts would exactly match the interest the government would have to pay on its additional debt. To compensate for the initial borrowing, the government would have to cut future benefits so much that workers would gain nothing at all.
How, then, can privatizers claim that they could secure the future of Social Security without raising taxes or reducing the incomes of future retirees? By assuming that workers would invest most of their accounts in stocks, that these investments would make a lot of money and that, in effect, the government, not the workers, would reap most of those gains, because as personal accounts grew, the government could cut benefits.
We can argue at length about whether the high stock returns such schemes assume are realistic (they aren’t), but let’s cut to the chase: in essence, such schemes involve having the government borrow heavily and put the money in the stock market. That’s because the government would, in effect, confiscate workers’ gains in their personal accounts by cutting those workers’ benefits.
Once you realize that privatization really means government borrowing to speculate on stocks, it doesn’t sound too responsible, does it? But the details make it considerably worse.
Buying Into Failure, December 17, 2004
[A]side from giving the Cato Institute and other organizations promoting Social Security privatization the space to present upbeat tales from Chile, the U.S. news media have provided their readers and viewers with little information about international experience. In particular, the public hasn’t been let in on two open secrets:
Privatization dissipates a large fraction of workers’ contributions on fees to investment companies.
It leaves many retirees in poverty.
Decades of conservative marketing have convinced Americans that government programs always create bloated bureaucracies, while the private sector is always lean and efficient. But when it comes to retirement security, the opposite is true. More than 99 percent of Social Security’s revenues go toward benefits, and less than 1 percent for overhead. In Chile’s system, management fees are around 20 times as high. And that’s a typical number for privatized systems….
Privatizers who laud the Chilean system never mention that it has yet to deliver on its promise to reduce government spending. More than 20 years after the system was created, the government is still pouring in money. Why? Because, as a Federal Reserve study puts it, the Chilean government must “provide subsidies for workers failing to accumulate enough capital to provide a minimum pension.” In other words, privatization would have condemned many retirees to dire poverty, and the government stepped back in to save them.
Be that as it may, the problem Krugman shares with nearly all his fellow liberal critics, refuters and general naysayers to the Right-Wing’s shifting cover stories for a die-hard Social Security abolitionism now nearly three-quarters of a century old is a reluctance to address the issue in simple, old-fashioned “values” terms. And, however correct the critics’ arguments about the fiscal irresponsibility, the utter economic nonsense of the Right’s so-called reforms, this reluctance amounts to conceding the ground on which the Right has chosen to fight, the ground it has been preparing for decades.
There are only two good, effective political arguments for maintaining the Social Security Program as currently structured and against the various social in-security plans Bush and the ideological Republican Right are busier than ever fomenting against it. And they are the very same, simple, direct arguments used to pass the Social Security Act in the first place: Prudence and Morality.
Prudence: Although we are famously a nation that values and rewards “risk takers” over all others, it is simply imprudent in a highly mobile, individualized, modern, market-driven global capitalist economy for even the most self-confident and successful of “risk takers” to rush eagerly also to bet their most rudimentary survival and dignity in old age upon unforeseeable, uncontrollable, distant and chance events, least of all upon the ups and downs of the always crashable stock market.
It is all too easily observed, by anyone who bothers to look beyond their own rosiest hopes and dreams, that, over the course of any human life-span, the race does not invariably go to the swiftest, the smartest, the richest, the bravest, the balls-iest, the most well-prepared, most well-connected, no, not even to the whitest. Better, if at all possible, in case all else fails, to keep that last, simple ace in the hole: At least, I’ll still have the freedom to eat without begging when I’m old and helpless.
Any degree of “privatization,” “individualization” of Social Security, whatever its possible or promised benefits, amounts to a political renunciation of what, since the 1930s, has come to be regarded as a basic human right in America to a certain minimum standard of independence and dignity in old age. To be an American, not someone struggling for existence on the margins of brutal third and fourth world economies, but to be a member of the powerful, privileged society that America is and prides itself on having become, and to choose to put at risk your own as well as your fellow Americans’ baseline, long-term security for no more than some hope of gain is nothing but a bet for fools in the process of being taken for everything for which they can be taken.
Prudence, in this sense, is just a polite term for knowing a sucker bet when you’re offered one.
Morality: Despite the best efforts of the Cato Institute and other right-wing ideology factories to convince us that the sum total of all legitimate moral principle, reasoning and feeling is contained and exhausted in Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty or give me death!” the Social Security debate poses issues of a somewhat broader moral scope. Reducing morality to a choice between the abstract absolutes of Liberty or Death makes for as fine a recruiting slogan for suicidal idealists and other insurgents against occupying imperial powers today in Gaza and the West Bank, and now Iraq, as it did during the American Revolution, but it’s hardly a sound basis for public discourse in a stable, established, humane society.
Most simply put, the question of Social Security is whether we as a nation and as individuals are morally prepared to return to a society in which we, the young, the healthy, the affluent, live alongside a significant number of our elderly fellow citizens who have been condemned to go hungry and homeless due to circumstances, accidents, mistakes, and even youthful irresponsibility now beyond their diminished capacity to rectify. Are we prepared emotionally and intellectually for such suffering? Can we justify it morally? Not in terms of the suffers’ deserts, just or unjust. Nor in terms of systemic functioning or economy, efficient or inefficient. But in terms of our own morality, our own standing and conscience as human beings sharing life with those less fortunate than ourselves. How far, despite all our loose rhetoric to the effect, are we actually prepared to slide toward an America in which life is truly, voluntarily, designedly, as a matter of public policy choice just a matter of “the survival of the fittest”?
Not surprisingly, the advocates of Social Security privatization, dismemberment and destruction never put the moral choice of Social Security this way. Even their most hell-fire and damnation Evangelical followers might pause over such a vision of market-based “jungle justice” meted out, without possibility of redemption, upon themselves, their near and dear, and members of their own communities. The supposed “immorality” of a government of “We, the People” taxing some of your own and everybody’s hard-earned wages to sustain your elders just wouldn’t stand up too well in a head-to-head face-off against Jesus’ second greatest commandment “to love thy neighbor as thyself.” But in America today, however we might wish it otherwise, where family and community simply lack the resources and resilience they once had to cope successfully with all-too-common human misfortune, that Christian moral commandment, that moral fundamental beyond all religious and secular divide, is precisely the common human duty that the would-be privatizers of social security are asking us to flout.
To find in this century the effective political language to make such points to the American people in a way that builds consensus where none might appear to exist, one need look no further than backward to the proven, effective language of the last century. For those who have never read or heard it, here is President Franklin D. Roosevelt better making the same two arguments of Prudence and Morality as they confront us as fellow citizens of modern, capitalist America:
A Social Security Program Must Include All Those Who Need Its Protection. RADIO ADDRESS ON THE THIRD ANNIVERSARY OF THE SOCIAL SECURITY ACT. AUGUST 15, 1938
You, my friends, in every walk of life and in every part of the Nation, who are active believers in Social Security:
The Social Security Act is three years old today. This is a good vantage point from which to take a long look backward to its beginnings, to cast an appraising eye over what it has accomplished so far, and to survey its possibilities of future growth.
Five years ago the term “social security” was new to American ears. Today it has significance for more than forty million men and women workers whose applications for old-age insurance accounts have been received; this system is designed to assure them an income for life after old age retires them from their jobs.
It has significance for more than twenty-seven and a half million men and women wage earners who have earned credits under State unemployment insurance laws which provide half wages to help bridge the gap between jobs.
It has significance for the needy men, women and children receiving assistance and for their families–at least two million three hundred thousand all told; with this cash assistance one million seven hundred thousand old folks are spending their last years in surroundings they know and with people they love; more than six hundred thousand dependent children are being taken care of by their own families; and about forty thousand blind people are assured of peace and security among familiar voices.
It has significance for the families and communities to whom expanded public health and child welfare services have brought added protection. And it has significance for all of us who, as citizens, have at heart the Security and the well-being of this great democracy.
These accomplishments of three years are impressive, yet we should not be unduly proud of them. Our Government in fulfilling an obvious obligation to the citizens of the country has been doing so only because the citizens require action from their Representatives. If the people, during these years, had chosen a reactionary Administration or a “do nothing” Congress, Social Security would still be in the conversational stage–a beautiful dream which might come true in the dim distant future.
But the underlying desire for personal and family security was nothing new. In the early days of colonization and through the long years following, the worker, the farmer, the merchant, the man of property, the preacher and the idealist came here to build, each for himself, a stronghold for the things he loved. The stronghold was his home; the things he loved and wished to protect were his family, his material and spiritual possessions.
His security, then as now, was bound to that of his friends and his neighbors.
But as the Nation has developed, as invention, industry and commerce have grown more complex, the hazards of life have become more complex. Among an increasing host of fellow citizens, among the often intangible forces of giant industry, man has discovered that his individual strength and wits were no longer enough. This was true not only of the worker at shop bench or ledger; it was true also of the merchant or manufacturer who employed him. Where heretofore men had turned to neighbors for help and advice, they now turned to Government.
Now this is interesting to consider. The first to turn to Government, the first to receive protection from Government, were not the poor and the lowly–those who had no resources other than their daily earnings–but the rich and the strong. Beginning in the nineteenth century, the United States passed protective laws designed, in the main, to give security to property owners, to industrialists, to merchants and to bankers. True, the little man often profited by this type of legislation; but that was a by-product rather than a motive.
Taking a generous view of the situation, I think it was not that Government deliberately ignored the working man but that the working man was not sufficiently articulate to make his needs and his problems known. The powerful in industry and commerce had powerful voices, both individually and as a group. And whenever they saw their possessions threatened, they raised their voices in appeals for government protection.
It was not until workers became more articulate through organization that protective labor legislation was passed. While such laws raised the standards of life, they still gave no assurance of economic security. Strength or skill of arm or brain did not guarantee a man a job; it did not guarantee him a roof; it did not guarantee him the ability to provide for those dependent upon him or to take care of himself when he was too old to work.
Long before the economic blight of the depression descended on the Nation, millions of our people were living in wastelands of want and fear. Men and women too old and infirm to work either depended on those who had but little to share, or spent their remaining years within the walls of a poorhouse. Fatherless children early learned the meaning of being a burden to relatives or to the community. Men and women, still strong, still young, but discarded as gainful workers, were drained of self-confidence and self-respect.
The millions of today want, and have a right to, the same security their forefathers sought–the assurance that with health and the willingness to work they will find a place for themselves in the social and economic system of the time.
Because it has become increasingly difficult for individuals to build their own security single-handed, Government must now step in and help them lay the foundation stones, just as Government in the past has helped lay the foundation of business and industry. We must face the fact that in this country we have a rich man’s security and a poor man’s security and that the Government owes equal obligations to both. National security is not a half and half manner: it is all or none.
The Social Security Act offers to all our citizens a workable and working method of meeting urgent present needs and of forestalling future need. It utilizes the familiar machinery of our Federal-State government to promote the common welfare and the economic stability of the Nation.
The Act does not offer anyone, either individually or collectively, an easy life–nor was it ever intended so to do. None of the sums of money paid out to individuals in assistance or in insurance will spell anything approaching abundance. But they will furnish that minimum necessity to keep a foothold; and that is the kind of protection Americans want.
What we are doing is good. But it is not good enough. To be truly national, a social security program must include all those who need its protection. Today many of our citizens are still excluded from old-age insurance and unemployment compensation because of the nature of their employment. This must be set aright; and it will be.
Some time ago I directed the Social Security Board to give attention to the development of a plan for liberalizing and extending the old-age insurance system to provide benefits for wives, widows and orphans. More recently, a National Health Conference was held at my suggestion to consider ways and means of extending to the people of this country more adequate health and medical services and also to afford the people of this country some protection against the economic losses arising out of ill health.
I am hopeful that on the basis of studies and investigations now under way, the Congress will improve and extend the law. I am also confident that each year will bring further development in Federal and State social security legislation–and that is as it should be. One word of warning, however. In our efforts to provide security for all of the American people, let us not allow ourselves to be misled by those who advocate short cuts to Utopia of fantastic financial schemes.
We have come a long way. But we still have a long way to go. There is still today a frontier that remains unconquered–an America unclaimed. This is the great, the nationwide frontier of insecurity, of human want and fear. This is the frontier–the America–we have set ourselves to reclaim.
Let Bush, Rove, the Cato Institute, and the rest of the right-wing, con-artist, mass-media propagandists of privatizing and dismantling America’s Social Security System try arguing against that for a change.
Arts and Sciences
As human beings dwelling within modern, mass media swept, “information age” societies, it always behooves us to recall that we are not all equally utter novices at the art and science of political propaganda, public relations, advertising, marketing, whatever you wish to call the means by which our opinions, hopes, dreams, our very desires may be and often are molded and directed. Some amongst us are highly educated, whether formally or experientially or most often both, in these arts, these sciences, possessing proven-effective skills that command, bottomline justifiably, among the highest salaries paid in the world today. No product of novices endlessly reinventing the wheel, the achievements of this sort possible today are so because today’s practitioners stand, as the saying goes, “on the shoulders of giants” in their chosen profession:
[T]he magnitude of a lie always contains a certain factor of credibility, since the great masses of the people in the very bottom of their hearts tend to be corrupted rather than consciously and purposely evil, and that, therefore, in view of the primitive simplicity of their minds they more easily fall a victim to a big lie than to a little one, since they themselves lie in little things, but would be ashamed of lies that were too big. Such a falsehood will never enter their heads and they will not be able to believe in the possibility of such monstrous effrontery and infamous misrepresentation in others; yes, even when enlightened on the subject, they will long doubt and waver, and continue to accept at least one of these causes as true.
–Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf, Vol 1, Chapter 10
