Listen, I have a story to tell you about cicadas. I do not know if you have them were you live, so I will describe them. They are large insects which live and mature underground, dormant for years, but when it is their time, they come up from the earth and find a rough surface to cling to and climb out of their hard shells, in which they had lived underground, and cling there for hours while their wings, unfolded from within the shell, dry. They are by nature fragile creatures, as when they are in the ground, they are helpless, and can barely move, and when out of their shell and drying, are defenseless. But they are beautiful creatures in a wide range of colors, bright green early in life, leading to brown and dusky grey before their deaths. I have always had an incredible fascination with them, since I was a small child, searching for their intricate little shells, clinging to the sides of oak trees and barns. When I was young I had a wooden box full of the shells, and even now if I find one, I save it. When the cicadas dry after leaving their shells they mate, and as part of that, they sing. They sing loudly, and this time of year in the south they can seem deafening. It seems there are millions in the trees, and it is beautiful. It almost makes up for the heat and humidity of the season.
Today, I set out from my home, near dusk, on my bicycle, on the route I usually take for exercise--about six or seven miles. I ride to a point, turn around and come home. When I leave I am listening contently to the cicadas, a song I have heard all my life, every year, though it seems less now than when I was a child, I simply enjoy it. Less than a mile from my house, riding down a city street, I hear helicopters, coming in low towards me. They wash away all other sounds with their engines, loud raucous things, and it feels I am in a war movie, about to be gunned down, but these are not military helicopters. They are city helicopters, and they are marked "mosquito control." You see, in the southeastern United States, in the summer, it is very hot and muggy. The temperature is often over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and the humidity is very high as well, and so mosquitoes breed prolifically. That's where the city's "mosquito control" comes in.
The helicopters fly very low over the houses and businesses, back and forth, and as they fly they spray pesticides, chemicals to kill the mosquitoes. In a fine mist they fall, on everything, including me, riding on the edge of the road. When you ride through the mist, it falls into your eyes, and it burns, and so I have to stop, nearly falling off my bike, my eyes watering, my nose running, the burning making it so I cannot see. I have to stop until the tears wash it away, and I can at least squint my way onward. It seems I am the only person out on the streets when they do this, and so it seems to bother no one else. After all, why should it? They are all locked up in their hermetically sealed, air conditioned homes, or driving their air conditioned vehicles.
But for me on my bike, I have to turn around, to head back home, and before I can make it there, the helicopters come over again, and why not? Almost every city and even most small towns in this part of the country have mosquito control, a crop-duster, or helicopter. Aircraft fuel is cheap, this I know from experience, and the cities' taxpayers are in complete support of these actions--after all, no one likes mosquitoes. Again I have to stop, and cry and rub my eyes, and wipe my nose until eventually, I can ride on, my eyes still watering.
When I get home, it is just now dark, and I am running inside to take a shower. I can feel the stickiness on my skin, can smell the chemical tang, and taste it in the back of my throat, but as I'm running inside to wash the burn from my eyes, to scrub my skin, I stop, and I listen, and I do not hear a single cicada singing.
Yes. Welcome to America, 21st century. Is it any different from the last, from the days of Silent Springs, and DDT? Does any one but me care?
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Subtle Suppression
I have been reading a novel titled "The Iron Heel," which you've probably never heard of, though you may have heard of its author. If you don't recognize the name Jack London, I'm sure you do recognize his other novels, "White Fang," and "The Call of the Wild," and while those books have remained classics, this one has slipped into obscurity. You also may not know that Jack London was an ardent socialist, some might say militant, and that during the very early 20th century he was a key figure in the socialist movement, he espoused a social revolution and was even arrested for his activism. "The Iron Heel" was a kind of culmination of those feelings.
Today the book would be called speculative fiction, but then it was probably billed as propaganda, and this is not be totally unjustified. The form of the book is an account by the wife of a key figure in the labor movement who dies in an insurrection that is brutally suppressed by what is called "The Oligarchy," which is basically the capitalist trust/government of the time. The book is depicted as a manuscript which has been found centuries after the eventual success of a social revolution and the creation of a kind of utopian “brotherhood of man.”
I do not suggest that you go out and attempt to find this book, as unless you have an avid interest in American socialism or the early 20th century, as I do, you will not likely find it compelling. The reason I mention it though, is because of certain thoughts it has given rise to. Thoughts about suppression of literature, and ideas. In the book itself there is a book that is brutally suppressed because it shows hypocrisies in the social order of the time, but the kind of suppression I have in mind is more subtle.
I am not implying that "The Iron Heel" has been intentionally forgotten in lieu of "White Fang" for political reasons. Undoubtedly any book which deals so much with the societal situations of the time is sure to be forgotten, where as books which are more timeless, and appeal to our emotions, are more likely to be remembered. Surely this is the reason why no one remembered "Das Kapital" 100 years after its publication.
It is often said that the winners write the history books, and there is much truth in that phrase, but it is also true that the winners (and those in power are definitely winners) influence what literature we read as well. Since the "oligarchy" or upper classes, or government, or whatever we wish to call those in power, control the school systems and forms of mass media, they also control what literature we ascribe value to. What is thought to be classic, and what is not. What books are remembered, and which are forgotten.
This brings to mind a man named Walter Duranty. Doubtless you've never heard of him, but he won a small thing called the Pulitzer Prize in 1932 for articles he had written the previous year about the then relatively new Soviet Union and its people. He was bureau chief of The New York Times’ Moscow branch for 14 years and highly regarded as an expert on the soviet people. Later though, he was discredited for the sometimes positive slant that he put on Stalin's programs, and was actually lambasted for not being critical of what was later called Stalin's "show trials," that is trials of his political opponents which were later shown to be pre-determined. Bear in mind that Duranty was a reporter, and that, theoretically, depicting things unbiased is a virtue in that field.
Of course, none of this criticism came until after World War II and the beginning of The Cold War. The trials were not even shown as frauds until Khrushchev came to power, but this was conveniently unmentioned, and Duranty was derided for other reasons as well. It was put forward that he glossed over the famines of the year of his Pulitzer, 1932, which were caused through what is now depicted as direct government action. The fact that the articles the prize was awarded for were written before the famine was conveniently overshadowed. My point is that when there was a need for public animosity towards Soviet Russia, a formerly highly esteemed literary figure was stripped of all credibility on flimsy evidence, and left forgotten in the annals of history.
I myself own a book by him titled "One Life, One Kopeck," which is derived from a Russian saying meaning roughly, "life isn't worth one red cent," implying that this was the way the establishment of the time viewed human life. The book was a novel used as an account of the Russian Revolution which was admittedly pro-Russia, and pro-socialism, but it was written in 1937, before the Cold War, and like Duranty’s other works, is largely forgotten.
Another example of how works which defy the establishment are remembered is "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair, written in 1906. A book that can only be described as a persuasive novel leading the reader towards socialism. Today though, that book is remembered for what served as its background, which was the horrendous conditions of the meat packing industry of Chicago. Conditions which were used in the book to illustrate the hellish conditions of the working class, but which instead brought the middle class's attention to the lack of food regulation. For instance the modern book "Fast Food Nation," by Eric Schlosser is often compared to "The Jungle," but Schlosser's book is a non-fiction documentation of food processing and marketing, while Sinclair's is a novel following the terrible conditions forced upon the family of immigrant Jurgis Rudkis by the capitalist system, and his eventual path to socialism.
One might also mention Jonathan Swift, who wrote scathing satires of 18th century English culture and government, but in modern interpretations is know for the Lilliputians from his novel, "Gulliver's Travels," which are deprived of all context and meaning.
John Steinbeck too could fall among these authors, having written strongly socialist books such as "In Dubious Battle," and subtly anti-capitalist books such as "The Grapes of Wrath." Today the books of his which are read in school though, are "The Pearl," and "Of Mice and Men." Simple, but emotionally wrenching books with none of the social import contained in his other novels, which are swept aside by conventional education. A prime example of how when an author becomes prominent enough that he cannot be discredited, he can at least be circumvented.
A kind of caricature of this would be George Orwell, a man who is well known today for his books "Animal Farm," a thinly veiled satire of the Russian Revolution, and "1984," an only slightly more oblique look at the post war Soviet state, as opposed to other, more Socialist friendly books such as "Homage to Catalonia." What is not as well remembered is that George Orwell was employed by the British Government in its "Information Research Department," an organization whose sole purpose was to disseminate anti-communist propaganda. "Animal Farm" was actually subsidized by the British government and distributed as a tool against the Soviet Union in its neighboring countries. Orwell also was engaged in the writing of the "Orwell Lists," which were commissioned to be lists of literary and entertainment figures who were not to be published, including Walter Duranty, and Charlie Chaplin. Orwell is however, not remember as a propaganda tool, but as a great author.
A more modern look might be placed upon figures such as Hunter S. Thompson, the Gonzo journalist, who was a harsh critic of the establishment and wrote biting commentary on the United States’ government and society as a whole, but is remembered for "Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas," a book dealing mostly with drug related experiences.
Another might be Alan Moore's "V for Vendetta," a graphic novel depicting a terrorist who attempts to demolish federal government and bring about an anarchistic state. The key theme of the novel is especially illustrated in the protagonist’s trademark symbol, a take on the anarchy symbol of a red A in a circle. When the book was made into a big-budget action oriented motion picture in 2005 though, while including gratuitous martial arts scenes, it never once included the word "anarchy."
All these examples may seem unrelated or may lead one to believe I am implying that some secret order decides what we read, but this is not the case. I am merely trying to illustrate that the books we esteem as classic are determined by those parts of our society controlled by those in power, specifically the primary schools and universities, and the major news organizations. The majority of my evidence being based around the suppression of pro-socialist work is only because this is the easiest example.
I have attempted to point out here how books which work against the established order are subtly circumvented, rather than suppressed, often by the simple act of holding up other works by those same authors as great, drawing attention from their more controversial books. I hope that this has provoked your own thoughts on the subject.
Today the book would be called speculative fiction, but then it was probably billed as propaganda, and this is not be totally unjustified. The form of the book is an account by the wife of a key figure in the labor movement who dies in an insurrection that is brutally suppressed by what is called "The Oligarchy," which is basically the capitalist trust/government of the time. The book is depicted as a manuscript which has been found centuries after the eventual success of a social revolution and the creation of a kind of utopian “brotherhood of man.”
I do not suggest that you go out and attempt to find this book, as unless you have an avid interest in American socialism or the early 20th century, as I do, you will not likely find it compelling. The reason I mention it though, is because of certain thoughts it has given rise to. Thoughts about suppression of literature, and ideas. In the book itself there is a book that is brutally suppressed because it shows hypocrisies in the social order of the time, but the kind of suppression I have in mind is more subtle.
I am not implying that "The Iron Heel" has been intentionally forgotten in lieu of "White Fang" for political reasons. Undoubtedly any book which deals so much with the societal situations of the time is sure to be forgotten, where as books which are more timeless, and appeal to our emotions, are more likely to be remembered. Surely this is the reason why no one remembered "Das Kapital" 100 years after its publication.
It is often said that the winners write the history books, and there is much truth in that phrase, but it is also true that the winners (and those in power are definitely winners) influence what literature we read as well. Since the "oligarchy" or upper classes, or government, or whatever we wish to call those in power, control the school systems and forms of mass media, they also control what literature we ascribe value to. What is thought to be classic, and what is not. What books are remembered, and which are forgotten.
This brings to mind a man named Walter Duranty. Doubtless you've never heard of him, but he won a small thing called the Pulitzer Prize in 1932 for articles he had written the previous year about the then relatively new Soviet Union and its people. He was bureau chief of The New York Times’ Moscow branch for 14 years and highly regarded as an expert on the soviet people. Later though, he was discredited for the sometimes positive slant that he put on Stalin's programs, and was actually lambasted for not being critical of what was later called Stalin's "show trials," that is trials of his political opponents which were later shown to be pre-determined. Bear in mind that Duranty was a reporter, and that, theoretically, depicting things unbiased is a virtue in that field.
Of course, none of this criticism came until after World War II and the beginning of The Cold War. The trials were not even shown as frauds until Khrushchev came to power, but this was conveniently unmentioned, and Duranty was derided for other reasons as well. It was put forward that he glossed over the famines of the year of his Pulitzer, 1932, which were caused through what is now depicted as direct government action. The fact that the articles the prize was awarded for were written before the famine was conveniently overshadowed. My point is that when there was a need for public animosity towards Soviet Russia, a formerly highly esteemed literary figure was stripped of all credibility on flimsy evidence, and left forgotten in the annals of history.
I myself own a book by him titled "One Life, One Kopeck," which is derived from a Russian saying meaning roughly, "life isn't worth one red cent," implying that this was the way the establishment of the time viewed human life. The book was a novel used as an account of the Russian Revolution which was admittedly pro-Russia, and pro-socialism, but it was written in 1937, before the Cold War, and like Duranty’s other works, is largely forgotten.
Another example of how works which defy the establishment are remembered is "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair, written in 1906. A book that can only be described as a persuasive novel leading the reader towards socialism. Today though, that book is remembered for what served as its background, which was the horrendous conditions of the meat packing industry of Chicago. Conditions which were used in the book to illustrate the hellish conditions of the working class, but which instead brought the middle class's attention to the lack of food regulation. For instance the modern book "Fast Food Nation," by Eric Schlosser is often compared to "The Jungle," but Schlosser's book is a non-fiction documentation of food processing and marketing, while Sinclair's is a novel following the terrible conditions forced upon the family of immigrant Jurgis Rudkis by the capitalist system, and his eventual path to socialism.
One might also mention Jonathan Swift, who wrote scathing satires of 18th century English culture and government, but in modern interpretations is know for the Lilliputians from his novel, "Gulliver's Travels," which are deprived of all context and meaning.
John Steinbeck too could fall among these authors, having written strongly socialist books such as "In Dubious Battle," and subtly anti-capitalist books such as "The Grapes of Wrath." Today the books of his which are read in school though, are "The Pearl," and "Of Mice and Men." Simple, but emotionally wrenching books with none of the social import contained in his other novels, which are swept aside by conventional education. A prime example of how when an author becomes prominent enough that he cannot be discredited, he can at least be circumvented.
A kind of caricature of this would be George Orwell, a man who is well known today for his books "Animal Farm," a thinly veiled satire of the Russian Revolution, and "1984," an only slightly more oblique look at the post war Soviet state, as opposed to other, more Socialist friendly books such as "Homage to Catalonia." What is not as well remembered is that George Orwell was employed by the British Government in its "Information Research Department," an organization whose sole purpose was to disseminate anti-communist propaganda. "Animal Farm" was actually subsidized by the British government and distributed as a tool against the Soviet Union in its neighboring countries. Orwell also was engaged in the writing of the "Orwell Lists," which were commissioned to be lists of literary and entertainment figures who were not to be published, including Walter Duranty, and Charlie Chaplin. Orwell is however, not remember as a propaganda tool, but as a great author.
A more modern look might be placed upon figures such as Hunter S. Thompson, the Gonzo journalist, who was a harsh critic of the establishment and wrote biting commentary on the United States’ government and society as a whole, but is remembered for "Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas," a book dealing mostly with drug related experiences.
Another might be Alan Moore's "V for Vendetta," a graphic novel depicting a terrorist who attempts to demolish federal government and bring about an anarchistic state. The key theme of the novel is especially illustrated in the protagonist’s trademark symbol, a take on the anarchy symbol of a red A in a circle. When the book was made into a big-budget action oriented motion picture in 2005 though, while including gratuitous martial arts scenes, it never once included the word "anarchy."
All these examples may seem unrelated or may lead one to believe I am implying that some secret order decides what we read, but this is not the case. I am merely trying to illustrate that the books we esteem as classic are determined by those parts of our society controlled by those in power, specifically the primary schools and universities, and the major news organizations. The majority of my evidence being based around the suppression of pro-socialist work is only because this is the easiest example.
I have attempted to point out here how books which work against the established order are subtly circumvented, rather than suppressed, often by the simple act of holding up other works by those same authors as great, drawing attention from their more controversial books. I hope that this has provoked your own thoughts on the subject.
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