I. First example: The McCain/Palin campaign and the
rebellious conservative
I want to step back a moment and talk about something that
is absolutely untimely: the McCain/Palin presidential campaign of 2008. I began
graduate school in fall of 2008, and to some degree this campaign has remained
as an exemplary moment that refuses easy integration into my understanding of
the world. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, and you should be too. Because
the McCain/Palin campaign was so wonderfully, frightfully weird. This is an
actual weirdness that was undercut—effaced, even—by the weirdness that was the
spectacle of Sarah Palin collapsing, rising, and collapsing again under the
combined pressure of intense media scrutiny, the American Right’s fantasmatic
investments in her as Republican messiah, and her own internal contradictions. This
is not to say that Sarah Palin is not a total absurdity whose national
narrative did for the American Success Story what Monty Python and the Holy Grail did for Arthurian legend. But in
some way, these minor quirks of personal character (and McCain had his own) overshadow
what was the truly absurd moment: the labeling of the entire campaign as
“maverick.” The Republican Party wholly embraced this ridiculous title even
though John McCain had been in Washington for over two decades, and even though
their political platform was absolutely and terrifyingly conservative. It was
not only conservative in that it was the American right-wing, but also in the more
general sense that their movement wanted to conserve, to keep, to maintain, and
to oppose progress. On the level of abstract political semantics, “maverick”
came to oppose “change”; that was the choice in the 2008 election. The
right-wing has come to assume not only the trappings of revolutionary rhetoric,
but also sets itself up as the position of the unpopular, the transgressive,
and the outsider. And this extends to the whole of the Tea Party movement. This
is the weirdness. What are the conditions of possibility, what is the field of
power and politics, such that the conservative and the transgressive can come
to occupy the same position? What are the logics, figures, fantasies and
transformations of sovereignty and authority in the United States today? This
has, in some sense, been a nagging, gaping question buried always somewhere in
the back of my mind.
These are not questions that can simply be answered through sociology or political science since it involves narrative, rhetoric and representation, which is to say that we are talking about fantasy, libidinal investment, and all the irrational ways in which we always fall short or stupidly exceed who we are and what we want. Certainly, these kinds of “harder” disciplines can offer some narratives about the campaign election and the phenomenon I am trying to describe. Most obviously, the “maverick” dimension of the 2008 campaign should certainly be seen as an attempt to distance the Republican Party from the wreck of the previous presidency. But while it is true that this kind of rhetoric played directly into the program of distancing the G.O.P. from G. W. Bush, this explanation doesn’t really answer the question of why this distanciation took this particular form. It’s pretty clear that something resonates about being an outsider, being unpopular, and standing in a position of exteriority in relation to the (imagined, fantasmatic) norms of the American public sphere. In what follows, I trace the gesture of transgression through post-war American literature in order to understand how the position of transgression functions in our contemporary biopolitical milieu. The object at the horizon of this analysis to keep in mind is the growth of a cultural ideal of rebellion and liberation, which is coupled with a denigration of traditional figures of authority. This ideal manifests itself in its most general form as an omnipresent suspicion towards more archaic loci of power such as the father, tradition, society and the state. The phenomenon I am trying to describe—the weirdness of the transgressive, outsider conservative—is a singular manifestation of a larger cultural configuration that I have decided to describe as the reification of the gesture of transgression. Literature is crucial for this question since transgression, the unpopular, and the position of the outsider as sites of fantasy and subjective transformation has been worked and reworked throughout the history of modern literature.
These are not questions that can simply be answered through sociology or political science since it involves narrative, rhetoric and representation, which is to say that we are talking about fantasy, libidinal investment, and all the irrational ways in which we always fall short or stupidly exceed who we are and what we want. Certainly, these kinds of “harder” disciplines can offer some narratives about the campaign election and the phenomenon I am trying to describe. Most obviously, the “maverick” dimension of the 2008 campaign should certainly be seen as an attempt to distance the Republican Party from the wreck of the previous presidency. But while it is true that this kind of rhetoric played directly into the program of distancing the G.O.P. from G. W. Bush, this explanation doesn’t really answer the question of why this distanciation took this particular form. It’s pretty clear that something resonates about being an outsider, being unpopular, and standing in a position of exteriority in relation to the (imagined, fantasmatic) norms of the American public sphere. In what follows, I trace the gesture of transgression through post-war American literature in order to understand how the position of transgression functions in our contemporary biopolitical milieu. The object at the horizon of this analysis to keep in mind is the growth of a cultural ideal of rebellion and liberation, which is coupled with a denigration of traditional figures of authority. This ideal manifests itself in its most general form as an omnipresent suspicion towards more archaic loci of power such as the father, tradition, society and the state. The phenomenon I am trying to describe—the weirdness of the transgressive, outsider conservative—is a singular manifestation of a larger cultural configuration that I have decided to describe as the reification of the gesture of transgression. Literature is crucial for this question since transgression, the unpopular, and the position of the outsider as sites of fantasy and subjective transformation has been worked and reworked throughout the history of modern literature.
II. Second example: the stupendous, involuntary
success of the avant-garde
Another interesting way to approach the larger question is
to consider the life of the concept of the avant-garde. In “The Aporias of the
Avant-Garde,” German critic Hans Magnus Enzensberger draws out the implications
of the etymology of the avant-garde in order to critique its conceptual
incoherence. The implicit militarism of the concept of the avant-garde assumes
an enemy but—and for Enzensberger this is a crucial contradiction—its presumed
enemy turns out to be (the conservative tendencies of) the very same body the
avant-garde is purported to lead. By its own logic, the avant-garde winds back
around and finds that “its only foe should be the tail of that very column it
has the privilege of leading” (29). In literalizing this militant metaphor,
Enzensberger discovers the paradoxical figure of the ouroboros; this movement
folds martial aggression back around upon the very train in whose defense the
avant-garde claims its right to war. For literary historian Matei Calinescu,
who draws on Enzensberger while affirming a certain distance from his
pessimism, this paradox vanishes if modernity is understood to contain within
it two opposing dimensions: bourgeois modernity, which affirms science,
progress, industrialization and time as a measurable object, and aesthetic (or
cultural) modernity, which rejects the former through different modes, “from
rebellion, anarchy, and apocalypticism to aristocratic self-exile” (42). As
aesthetic modernity confronts the former, seen as a normative force or pressure
that shapes modern subjectivity—a force or pressure which aesthetic modernity
feels itself impelled to counter and impelled to explore its scope and
limits—we can identify literature and other cultural products which takes up a
self-consciously transgressive position as a critique of bourgeois norms.
Nonetheless, Calinescu, following Enzenberger, notes that a certain shift has
occurred in the concept of the avant-garde in the 1960s, popularized through
the art-market and achieving what Calinescu describes as its “stupendous,
involuntary success” (121). While the “success” of the avant-garde is
attributed by these critics to the encroaching influence of the market upon
cultural production, this commoditizing moment for me constitutes the question, rather
than its answer. To use Calinescu’s terminology, this moment illuminates the
fact that the critiques and self-critiques of aesthetic modernity and the
materialism of the normative bourgeois subject can be reconciled; indeed, this
coimbrication of the avant-garde and commodification forms a part of his
discussion of the idea of “kitsch.” Transgression, in Calinescu’s analysis of the
avant-garde, could be understood to be a form of modernity’s perpetual
exploration of the limits of the subject. Both critics—and they are taken
simply as examples of a fairly conventional image of the avant-garde—mark a
certain moment when the concept of the avant-garde achieves a culturally
dominant position. Again, the transgressive outsider position has become the
new norm.
III. Transgression in postwar modernist literature
Towards the end of the end of the twentieth century, popular
literary critic and host of KWBO’s “Booksworm” program Michael Silverblatt wrote
an article that attempted to invent a genre of contemporary writing he called
“trangressive fiction.” While this literary sub-genre—a preeminently marketable
category, whatever his intentions—has failed historically to develop into
anything interesting or substantial (it currently registers very little impact
outside of a half-hearted Wikipedia page and a few asinine internet
conversations), Silverblatt’s article is very interesting as a symptom of a
larger cultural formation. That is, transgression has become itself a right, a
good, a marketable category, outside of any commitments to concretely situated
political struggle. Silverblatt’s article clearly stands as a cultural symptom
that attests to the fact that the gesture of transgression has become absolutely
desanitized and defanged (if it ever had fangs). The exhortation to transgress
our social mandates has come to coincide with that mandate itself. While
Silverblatt heralds this as a new genre, in some real sense this desire to
transgress should be read an extension of certain tendencies of modernism
rather than a substantial break from it. Michel Foucault locates the emergence
of the literary imperative to transgress at the end of the eighteenth century,
concomitant with the development of “a system of ownership for texts” (“What Is
an Author?” 108). As literary discourse was now, with this authorship system,
composed of objects rather than acts, the dimension of risk associated with the
latter form of discourse (located on the “bipolar field of the sacred and
profane, the licit and the illicit” [“Author” 108]) faded. In “What is an
Author?,” Foucault only briefly notes that literature takes up the imperative
to transgression as a way to reassert this danger and risk of discourse. In his “Preface to Trangression,” we can see the stakes of reassuming this risk: in
the absence of God and transcendental limitlessness, human identity and
interiority could only be experienced through the spiral co-dependence of limit
and transgression. In the absence of the divine, the experience of limit and
transgression replace totality and dialectics, and subsequently modern
subjectivity can only know itself through that which exceeds (and—therefore—gives
weight to) normative laws and demands. The paradox of transgression is clearly
laid out early in the text: “The limit and transgression depend on each other
for whatever density of being they possess: a limit could not exist if it were
absolutely uncrossable and, reciprocally, transgression would be pointless if
it merely crossed a limit composed of illusions and shadows” (34).
It is with this coimbrication of transgression and limit
that I have decided to use the concept of transgression as a way to frame this
question. Rather than to prioritize the language of rebellion, resistance,
liberation or contestation I want to use the language of transgression in part
to harness transgression’s ambivalence towards power, politics and authority.
While transgression can be linked to positive terms such as resistance or
liberation, transgression also refers us to our irrational and reactionary fascination
with the taboo, an attraction not necessarily tied to a revolutionary or
progressive program. In the introduction to their study of transgression,
symbolic inversion and the carnivalesque in bourgeois culture, Peter
Stallybrass and Allon White are at pains to clarify that “there is no a priori
revolutionary vector to carnival and transgression” (16). Writing against the
tendency to ascribe to the Bakhtinian carnivalesque a form of utopian
resistance, Stallybrass and White argue that the bourgeoisie’s transgressive
exploration of its marginalized outsiders through the carnival is not
necessarily an authentic embracement of these outsiders’ positions so much as
an appropriation, in which “the very subjects which [the bourgeoisie]
politically excludes becom[e] exotic costumes which it assumes” (200). In this
study, Stallybrass and White show that the transgression of normative bourgeois
identity through a dialogic engagement with its excluded others can serve
merely to reinforce the very identity that this engagement supposedly
transgresses. Following this tradition, while not being identical with it,
postwar literature of transgression can be presented with a strongly moral
program; for example, in Larry Kramer’s novel Faggots extended scenes of extreme sexual practices and rampant
superficiality coincide with the exhortation to create a new gay identity that
is less artificial and promiscuous, and more monogamous and loving. The
narrative arc of the novel traces a development to a healthy homosexual subjectivity
that must first traverse pathological fixations on stunted, impermanent
love-objects--fixations produced and reproduced, of course, in a social field
shaped by the homosexual sons’ primary rejection by their families and, beyond
that, normative social organization. Kramer effectively mobilizes the logic of
norm and transgression that Stallybrass and White identify in order to make
visible the possibility of new norms and forms of subjectivity which resist
being subsumed into monogamous heterosexual familialism or a gay community
which would be simply an inversion of the former’s ideals.
Novels such as Faggots
or Claude McKay’s Home to Harlem end
in a clear moral program exhorting the creation of alternative normative
ideals, and are therefore directed primarily towards the creation, continuation
or transformation of a community ethos; as such they illustrate how the gesture
of literary transgression can aim to create new forms of being that are
fundamentally social. In these texts, the new normative sociality coincides
with the revelation or the reanimation of kinship ties, whether condensed in
Felice’s good-luck charm in Home to
Harlem or explicitly acknowledged in Faggots’s
Fred's final autogenic decision: “I must change myself. Be my own Mom and Pop”
(362). More broadly speaking, the creation of new ideals comes about through
the reinvigoration of what are perceived to be foundational or more archaic
forms of sociality such as kinship, figuring liberation as a movement of
return. Many texts that engage seriously with the question of transgression,
then, find their poles of intelligibility within the modernist logic of
decadence and primitivism. In Jack Kerouac’s On the Road the desire to escape the normative position of the
“disillusioned” white man (170) manifests itself as an investment in a
specifically racialized primitivism which redeploys of colonial tropes of
racial otherness in its very attempt to identify with these racial others.
While On the Road holds out the
primitive other as the bearers of an authentic way of life, the novel itself
highlights how this authenticity is forever foreclosed to the modern Western
subject, figured through an impossibility of intercultural communication: “In
their silence they were themselves” (284). We can see a different break here
with the earlier literature of transgression that Stallybrass and White
discuss. While On the Road also
stages an engagement with the normative subject’s excluded others, it
underscores the inherent impossibility of identifying with those who are
excluded. While these texts are all concerned with the creation of new social
ideals—a creation figured simultaneously as a return to more primitive or
archaic ways of being—what the example of On
the Road demonstrates is that the contestation of norms never takes place
as a purely sovereign or autonomous gesture of creation. Instead, this
contestation should be understood as a catachrestic entanglement with social
and symbolic norms which must as such take up the preexisting sexualizing and racializing
terms of biopolitical subject formation.
IV. Biopolitical reality and (neo)liberal
governmentality
The underlying conceptual thread that I am concerned with in
these examples is that the gesture of transgression is never in itself simply
revolutionary, liberatory, excessive, or useless, but rather registers an
orientation towards a primordial reality of the subject felt to be severed or
lost. This is to say that the right to transgress normative social ideals in
these works finds its grounding in the name of truth, such as in David Wojnarowicz’s
memoir Close to the Knives, where the
critique of the artificial “preinvented” “Other World” of language, property,
boundaries, and lies is made through reference to an ontologically prior
reality glimpsed through the capacity of the subject to “step[] back” (87-88).
Similarly, in William S. Burroughs’s Naked
Lunch, the Interzone political party which seems to stand closest to
Burroughs’s own position is called “Factualist” (151-153; cf. Ginsberg in the
introduction, xxv), while the role of the author is figured mechanically as a
pure “recording instrument” (200). This “recording,” is of course, to be
differentiated from a naïve claim to an empirical reality of
objects—Wojnarowicz singles out the term “nature” as a facet of the preinvented
world (88)—as these texts emerge out of a background of a specifically
biopolitical modernity which posits the truth of the subject as a product of an
endless discursive interrogation of fantasy, desire, sexuality and subjectivity.
Transgression and the biopolitical production of subjectivity find as their
common foundation recalcitrant desires whose textual elaboration as the
production of truth serves as a site of both disciplinary control as well as a
resistance that troubles the limits of normality and abnormality. Above all, I wish to
highlight how the gesture of transgression can find itself in very close
proximity to the principle logic of liberal governmentality. In his The Birth of Biopolitics lectures,
Foucault notes that the political rationality of liberalism does not ground
itself in the principles of right—that is, in the legitimacy or illegitimacy of
the sovereign—but rather in its knowledge of the nature of the objects of its
action. A theory of sovereignty today cannot simply assume power to be the
coercive expression of an authorized will (though this fantasy continues to
haunt us) but must take into account a liberal governmentality as a form of biopolitics
founded on a commitment to the truth of the objects/subjects of its governance.
This is not, as the discussion above claims, a question simply of coercive
power and heroic resistance. To ask whether Larry Kramer’s Faggots resists subsumption into biopolitical control (and the
transformation of sexuality into discourse), for instance, obscures the real
work it has done and continues to do as an intervention in the formation of gay
community and identity. While it is certainly true that biopolitics and its production
of subjectivity through the endless confession of desire supports coercive,
exclusionary, and even deadly institutions of discipline and normalization, it
would be naïve to assume that resistance to these specific institutions is
tantamount to resisting the overall regime of intelligibility that forms their
foundation. I certainly do not want to foreclose the possibility of other forms of power/knowledge which do not play out according to this biopolitical logic. I simply want to note that American politics today—progressive and reactionary—finds itself defined by
this field.
Works cited/referenced:
William S. Burroughs, Naked
Lunch
Matei
Calinescu, Five Faces of Modernity:
Modernism, Avant-Garde, Decadence, Kitsch, and Postmodernism
Hans Magnus Enzensberger, “The Aporias of the Avant-Garde”
Michel Foucault, “Preface to Transgression.”
-----“What is an Author?”
-----The Birth of
Biopolitics
-----History of Sexuality, Vol. 1
Jack Kerouac, On the
Road
Larry Kramer, Faggots
Claude McKay, Home to
Harlem
Michael Silverblatt, “Who Are These Writers and Why Do They
Want to Hurt Us?: The New Fiction of Transgression”
Peter Stallybrass and Allon White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression
David Wojnarowicz, Close
to the Knives
PS. I apologize for the Eminem.
No comments:
Post a Comment