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November 27, 2005
Life is not a bowl of cherries, dead frogs and dried mud
Fasolt und Fafner [n.b. Badiou says he'd rather be Fafner than Fasolt, since the latter is already dead by the end of The Rhinegold]
I was in a better mood today (LOL). Although the boyscouts were still out, I didn't let them get to me! I do fear I was looked upon rather unfavourably after my question to Zizek concerning the banlieue points below (the gameboy generation etc.). The point wasn't that I maintained that the riots were merely a bit of fun for some middle class boys; rather, it is interesting to see the unraveling of the story given by the police, each version of which contains a part of the truth, but each of which is essentially designed to 'cover' (in all senses) the meaning of the event. Of course I agreed with Z that the reduction of the events to a set of "demands" was exactly what would neutralise them. So the idea of a popular contagion born from the sensational matrix of capital and irreducible to circumstances (which can be "addressed" liberal-politically) of poverty is intriguing,and must form part of the explanation of what was going on: in fact what needs to be said against the Parisian police spokesman is that there is nothing so trivial and dismissable about the vector from pacifying entertainment systems full of screened virtual aggression, to gleeful material revolt - this, it could be argued, would have more revolutionary (because unpredictable) significance than burning cars for government or media "recognition" or for jobs - This particularly in view of the preposterous demands being made by revolutionary intellectuals on a "working class" (noting that – as Zizek rightly pointed out – in European countries the 'poverty' of the underclass does not necessarily manifest in terms of lack of access to consumer goods) that would in general unequivocally prefer to stay home with their Playstations. Anyhow it did serve strikingly to take me right back to AntiOedipus: oh, how marxists and lacanians alike flinch violently at the very suggestion of some positive desire - as if torching cars isn't fun! As if there were something positively indecent in the idea, that pleasure could admix with political anger.
Incidentally the question was not thus misunderstood by Zizek, who I warmed to somewhat today (not just because of this); his own presentation was extremely interesting, but then in debate he reverted disappointingly to his previous persona: sweaty, ravaged (len)in-joke cracking (his fans guffawing obsequiously on cue). What was interesting however was his autodissection of his media celebrity as "rock'n'roll intellectual". Having accused the press of encouraging this cult of personality as a defence against his thought, he then admitted his own complicity in the process, with no real pleading other than perhaps an implicit gesture to human frailty in the face of filthy lucre. One's general impression of Zizek is that his undeniable mercurial talent struggles to translate into a sustained philosophical project, falling back on entertainment value (despite his own professed ambivalence on the subject of irony, the performance at moments seems permeated by it) and horrendous overproduction; something like Baudrillard before him, perhaps...
So finally, and as something of an antidote, at last the large man in green took the floor (and, thankfully for our recording, the mike) - his voice a mellifluous softly-hooting euphonium to the Slovenian rockstar's splutteringly percussive assault (too much of the old Kate Moss versus a nice mellow claret, I'll wager.)
The mayses are divided into clayses, and so honn.
Aside from the lovely gigantomachia photos, I confine myself to ad hominem attack and vague musing: No point in my giving long accounts of the papers since you can listen (see below) (– and also IT has promised a full and detailed report, as penance for past blog frivolities [no pressure!]).
Badiou pleased by beginning with the affirmation that a "classical age" of modern politics (mayses...er masses, classes, parties, leaders) was finished. I believe that along with this unequivocal opening statement, some were disappointed by the modesty of Badiou's conclusion: a poetic expression of hope rather than a militant affirmation (I heard a certain Slovene muttering "when you end with a poem, it's always bad news..."). In what came between, there was something faintly 'unbadiousian' despite the familiar themes. The search for the generic as a creative affirmation of life? The need for a new fiction (not even an axiom anymore)? My unanswered question: is malign genericity unthinkable, or is the generic itself a sufficient condition (what a triumphantly abstract conception of politics!)? And then of course that old question of the transferability of set theory to politics...
Slavoj Zizek & Lorenzo Chiesa
Alain Badiou & Alenka Zupancic
FInally, we should let Badiou have the last word on my foregoing musings on the banlieues:"The burning [in '68] was different, because the fiction was not dead."
Posted by robin at November 27, 2005 07:51 AM