Map Of The Perverts

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"If you have a good theory, forget about the reality."
The Pervert's Guide to Ideology (2012)
I’ll give you a choice: either put on these glasses or start eating that trashcan.
I already am eating from the trashcan all the time. The name of this trashcan is ideology. The material force of ideology makes me not see what I am effectively eating. It’s not only our reality which enslaves us. The tragedy of our predicament when we are within ideology is that when we think that we escape it into our dreams, at that point we are within ideology.
They Live from 1988 is definitely one of the forgotten masterpieces of the Hollywood left. It tells the story of John Nada. Nada, of course, in Spanish means nothing. A pure subject, deprived of all substantial content. A homeless worker in L.A. who, drifting around one day enters into an abandoned Church and finds there a strange box full of sunglasses. And when he put one of them on walking along the L.A. Streets he discovers something weird; that these glasses function like critique of ideology glasses. They allow you to see the real message beneath all the propaganda, publicity, posters and so on. You see a large publicity board telling you have a holiday of a lifetime and when you put the glasses on you see just on the white background; a grey inscription.
We live, so we are told, in a post-ideological society. We are interpolated, that is to say, addressed by social authority not as subjects who should do their duty, sacrifice themselves, but subjects of pleasures. ‘Realise your true potential. Be yourself. Lead a satisfying life.’
When you put the glasses on you see dictatorship in democracy. It’s the invisible order, which sustains your apparent freedom. The explanation for the existence of these strange ideology glasses is the stand-up story of the invasion of the body snatchers. Humanity is already under the control of aliens.
Hey buddy, you gonna pay for that or what? Look Buddy, I don’t want no hassle today; you either pay for it or put it back.
According to our common sense, we think that ideology is something blurring, confusing our straight view. Ideology should be glasses, which distort our view, and the critique of ideology should be the opposite like you take off the glasses so that you can finally see the way things really are. This precisely and here, the pessimism of the film, of They Live, is well justified, this precisely is the ultimate illusion: ideology is not simply imposed on ourselves. Ideology is our spontaneous relation to our social world, how we perceive each meaning and so on and so on. We, in a way, enjoy our ideology.
To step out of ideology, it hurts. It’s a painful experience. You must force yourself to do it. This is rendered in a wonderful way with a further scene in the film where John Nada tried to force his best friend John Armitage to also put the glasses on.
It’s the weirdest scene in the film. The fight is eight, nine minutes…
…It may appear irrational cause why does this guy reject so violently to put the glasses on? It is as if he is well aware that spontaneously he lives in a lie that the glasses will make him see the truth but that this truth can be painful. It can shatter many of your illusions.
This is a paradox we have to accept.
The extreme violence of liberation. You must be forced to be free. If you trust simply your spontaneous sense of well being for whatever you will never get free. Freedom hurts.
The basic insight of psychoanalysis is to distinguish between enjoyment and simple pleasures. They are not the same. Enjoyment is precisely enjoyment in disturbed pleasure. Even enjoyment in pain and this excessive factor disturbs the apparently simple relationship between duty and pleasures. This is also a space where ideology up to and especially religious ideology operates. This brings me to maybe my favourite example, the great classic Hollywood film: The Sound Of Music.
We all know it’s the story of a nun who is too alive with too much energy, ultimately sexual energy to be constrained to the role of a nun.
Oh! Oh, Reverend mother I’m so sorry I just couldn’t help myself.
The gates were open and the hills were beckoning and before I…
I haven’t summoned you here for apologies.
Oh please mother, do let me ask for forgiveness.
One two three, one two three, one two three, step together now, step touch…
So, mother superior sends her to the Von Trapp family where she takes care of the children…
And at the same time of course falls in love with the baron Von Trapp. And Maria gets too disturbed by it cannot control it, returns to the convent.
Oh there were times when we would look at each other. Oh mother I could hardly breathe.
That’s what’s been torturing me I was there on God’s errand.
No wonder that in old communist Yugoslavia where I saw this film for the first time exactly this scène or more precisely the song which follows this strange hedonist, if you want, advice from the mother superior. Go back. Seduce the guy. Follow this path. Do not betray your desire.
Namely the song which begins with ‘Climb Every Mountain’; the song which is almost an embarrassing display and affirmation of desire. These three minutes were censored.
I think the censor was very intelligent. He knew as probably an atheist communist where the power of attraction of catholic religion resides. If you read intelligent catholic propagandists and if you really try to discern what deal are they offering you. It’s not to prohibit, in this case, sexual pleasures. It’s a much more cynical contact as it were, between the church as an institution and the believer troubled with, in this case, sexual desires. It is this hidden, obscene permission that you get. You are covered by the divine being, you can do whatever you want, enjoy.
This obscene contract does not belong to Christianity as such. It belongs to Catholic Church as an institution. It is the logic of institution at it’s purest. This is a gain a key to the functioning of ideology. Not only the explicit message: renounce, suffer and so on… but the true hidden message: pretend to renounce and you can get it all.
My psychoanalytic friends are telling me that typically today patients who come to the analyst to resolve their problems feel guilty not because of excessive pleasures. Not because they indulged in pleasures which go against their sense of duty and morality or whatsoever. On the contrary, they feel guilty for not enjoying enough. For not being able to enjoy.
Oh my god, one is thirsty in the desert and what to drink but Coke? The perfect commodity. Why? Because already Marx who long ago emphasised it: a commodity is never just a simple object that we buy and consume. A commodity is an object full of ideological even metaphysical niceties. Its presence always reflects an invisible transcendence and the classical publicity for Coke quite openly refers to this absent, invisible quality: Coke is the real thing. Coke, that’s it.
What is that it? The real thing? It’s not just another positive property of Coke, something that can be described or pinpointed through chemical analysis. It’s that mysterious something more.
The indescribable excess which is the object cause of my desire. In our post-modern, however we call them, societies we are obliged to enjoy. Enjoyment becomes a kind of a weird perverted duty. The paradox of Coke is that you are thirsty you drink it but as everyone knows the more you drink it the more thirsty you get.
A desire is never simple the desire for a certain thing. It’s always also a desire for desire itself; a desire to continue to desire. Perhaps the ultimate quarrel of a desire is to be fully filled in, met, so that I desire no longer. The ultimate melancholy experience is the experience of the loss of desire itself.
It’s not that in some return to a previous era of natural consummation where we got rid of this excess and we’re only consuming for actual needs like you are thirsty you drink water and so on. We cannot return to that. The excess is with us forever.
So let’s have a drink of Coke. It’s getting warm… it’s no longer the real Coke and that’s the problem. You know this passage from sublime to excremental damage. This Coke properly served it has a certain attraction. All of a sudden this can change into shit. It’s the elementary dialectics of commodities.
We are not talking about objective, factual properties of a commodity. We are talking only here about that illusive surplus.
Kinder Surprise egg, a quite astonishing commodity. The surprise of the Kinder Surprise egg is that this excessive object the cause of your desire is here materialised in the guise of an object, a plastic toy which fills in the inner void of the chocolate egg. The whole delicate balance is between these two dimensions. What you bought, the chocolate egg and the surplus probably made in some Chinese gulag or whatever, the surplus that you get for free. I don’t think that the chocolate frame is here just to send you on a deeper voyage towards the inner treasure, what Plato calls the agalma, which makes you a wealthy person, which makes a commodity the desirable commodity. I think it’s the other way around. We should aim at the higher goal, the goal in the middle of an object precisely to be able to enjoy the surface. This is what is the anti-metaphysical lesson, which is difficult to accept.
What does this famous Ode to Joy stand for? It’s usually perceived as a kind of ode to humanity as such to the brotherhood and freedom of all people. And what strikes the eye here is the universal adaptability of this well-known melody. It can be used by political movements which are totally opposed to each other. In Nazi Germany it was widely used to celebrate great public events. In Soviet Union, Beethoven was lionised and the Ode to Joy was performed almost as a kind of communist song. In China during the time of the great Cultural Revolution when almost all of western music was prohibited, the 9th symphony was accepted. It was allowed to play it as a piece of progressive bourgeois music. At the extreme right in South Rhodesia before it became Zimbabwe, it proclaimed independence to be able to postpone the abolishment of apartheid. There, for those couple of years of independence of Rhodesia again, the melody of Ode to Joy, with changed lyrics of course, was the anthem of the country. At the opposite end when Abimael Guzman President Gonzalo, the leader of Sendero Luminoso, the Shining Path, the extreme leftist guerrilla in Peru. When he was asked by a journalist which piece of music was his favourite he claimed, again Beethoven’s 9th symphony Ode to Joy. When Germany was still divided and their team was appearing together at the Olympics, when one of the Germans won golden medal, again Old to Joy was played instead of either East or West German national anthem. And even now today Ode to Joy is the unofficial anthem of European union.
So it’s truly that we can imagine a kind of a perverse scene of universal fraternity where Osama Bin Laden is embracing President Bush, Saddam is embracing Fidel Castro, white races is embracing Mao Tse Tung and all together they sing Ode to Joy. It works, and this is how every ideology has to work. It’s never just meaning. It always also has to work as an empty container open to all possible meanings. It’s, you know, that gut feeling that we feel when we experience something pathetic and we say: ‘Oh my God, I am so moved, there is something so deep.’ But you never know what this depth is. It’s a void.
Now, of course there is a catch here. The catch is that of course this neutrality of a frame is never as neutral as it appears.
Here, I think the perspective of Alex from the Clockwork Orange enters.
We were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed. It having been an evening of some small energy expenditure, oh my brothers. So we got rid of the auto and stopped off at the Coroba for a nightcap.
Why is Alex, this ultimate cynical delinquent hero of Clockwork Orange, why is he so fascinated, overwhelmed when he sees the lady singing Beethoven’s Ode to Joy?
And it was like for a moment, oh my brothers, some great bird had flown into the bar and I felt all the malanky little hairs on my body standing endwise and the shivers crawling up like slow malanky lizards and then down again because I knew what she sang. It was a bit from the glorious ninth by Ludwig van.
Whenever an ideological text sets all humanity unite in brotherhood, joy and so on, you should always ask: ok, ok, ok, is this all, really all, or some are excluded?
I think Alex, the delinquent of Clockwork Orange, identifies with this place of exclusion. And the great genius of Beethoven is that he literally states this exclusion. All of a sudden the whole tone changes into a kind of a carnavalesque rhythm. It’s no longer this sublime beauty.
Excuse me brother I ordered it two weeks ago, can you see if it’s arrived please?
We hear this vulgar music precisely when Alex enters a shopping arcade and we can see from his movements that now he feels at home. He is like fish in the water.
Beethoven is not the cheap celebrator of the brotherhood of humanity and so on, we are one big happy family enjoying freedom, dignity and so on.
The first part, which is falsely celebrated today, you hear it in all official events, is clearly identified with Beethoven as ideology and then the second part tells the true story of that which disturbs the official ideology and that of the failure of ideology to constrain it, to tame it. This is why Beethoven was doing something which may appear difficult to do. He was already in the purely musical work, practicing critique of ideology.
If the classical ideology functioned in the way designated by Marx in his nice formula from Capital Volume One: ‘Sie wissen es nicht, aber Sie tun es’ (They don’t know what they are doing but they are nonetheless doing it). Cynical ideology functions in the mode of ‘I know very well what I am doing but I am still nonetheless doing it.’
This paradoxical constellation is staged in a beautiful way in the famous song Officer Krupke in Bernstein’s and Sondheim’s West Side Story.
Give me one good reason for not dragging you down to station house you punk.
Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke, you gotta understand, it’s just our bringin’ up-ke that gets us out of hand. Our mothers all are junkies, our fathers all are drunks. Golly Moses, natcherly we’re punks!
Gee, Officer Krupke, we’re very upset…
The delinquent gang enact a whole explanation, as a musical number of course, of why they are delinquents.
There is good, there is good, there is untapped good ! Like inside, the worst of us is good !
Addressing the police officer Krupke, who is not here but all is addressed at the police officer.
So one of them adopts the position of a judge.
Dear kindly Judge, your Honor, my parents treat me rough. With all their marijuana, they won’t give me a puff.
Then the psychological explanation.
This boy don’t need a couch, he needs a usefully career. Society’s played him a terrible trick, and sociologically he’s sick! I am sick. We are sick…
The paradox here is how can you know all this and still do it? This is the cynical function of ideology. They’re never what they appear to be cynical brutal delinquents. They always have a tiny private dream. This dream can be many things. It can even be something quite ordinary.
Let’s take the English riots of august 2011. The standard liberal explanation really sounds like a repetition of the Officer Krupke song. ‘We cannot just condemn this riot as delinquent vandalism. You have to see how these people live in practically ghettos, isolated communities, no proper family life, no proper education. They don’t even have a prospect if a regular employment.’
But this is not enough because man is not simply a product of objective circumstances. We all have this margin of freedom in deciding how we subjectivise these objective circumstances which will of course determine us. How we react to them by constructing our own universe.
The conservative solution is ‘We need more police, we need courts, which pass severe judgements.’ I think this solution is too simple. If I listen closely to some of David Cameron’s statements, it looked as if ‘Ok, they are beating people, burning houses, but the truly horrible thing is that they were taking objects without paying for them.’ The ultimate things that we can imagine. In a very limited way, Cameron was right, there was no ideological justification. It is the reaction of people who are totally caught into the predominant ideology but have no ways to realise what this ideology demands of them so it’s kind of a wild acting out within this ideological space of consumerism.
Even if we are dealing with apparently totally non-ideological brutality (‘I just want to burn houses, to get objects’), it is the result of a very specific social and ideological constellation where big ideology (striving for justice, equality, etc.) disintegrates, the only functioning ideology is pure consumerism, and then no wonder what you get is a form of protest. Every violent acting out is a sign that there is something you are not able to put into words. Even the most brutal violence is the enacting of a certain symbolic deadlock.
The great thing about the Taxi Driver is that it brings this brutal outburst of violence to it’s radical suicidal damage. We are not dealing here with something which simply concerns the fragile psychology of a distorted person, what Travis in Taxi Driver is, it has something to do with ideology.
Listen you fuckers, you screw-heads, here is a man who would not take it anymore. Who would not…
Listen you fuckers you screw-heads, here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is someone who stood up.
In the Taxi Driver, Travis, the hero, is bothered by the young prostitute played by Jody Foster. What bothers him are, of course as is always the case, precisely his fantasies. Fantasies of her victimhood, of her hidden pleasure; and fantasies are not just a private matter of individuals – fantasies are the central stuff our ideologies are made of.
Fantasy is in psychoanalytical perspective fundamentally a lie. Not a lie in the sense that it’s just a fantasy and not a reality, but a lie in the sense that fantasy covers up a certain gap in consistency. When things are blurred, when we cannot really get to know things, fantasy provides an easy answer. The usual mode of fantasy is to construct a scene, not a scene where I get what I desire but a scene in which I imagine myself as desired by others.
Taxi Driver is an unacknowledged remake of perhaps the greatest of John Ford’s westerns, his late classic The Searchers.
In both films, the hero tries to save a young woman who is perceived as a victim
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Map Of The Perverts