Thursday, August 19, 2004
(8:12 PM) | Adam Kotsko:
New Decoration Scheme
At the late Trigger's, there were two quotations gracing the door of the coat closet. One was from John Wesley, the other from Mao Zedong. Working my way through Multitude (which is wonderful), I find that they are very good at finding an apt quotation; for instance: "'The Republic is dead.' -- Cicero" One of their epigraphs that I found particularly affecting is a poem by Bertolt Brecht, "On the Suicide of the Refugee W. B. [Walter Benjamin]." I will quote it here:I'm told you raised your hand against yourselfAll this to say: maybe a new decoration scheme is in order at the chez Kotsko-Bridges-Sinclair. After all, I already have all the tools I need, ready to hand: a computer, a printer, a ream of paper, and a roll of Scotch tape. I already feel like I'm part of the multitude, producing meaning on my walls -- even though I haven't actually done it yet! I could stand some more affective labor, but for now, perhaps the quotes will do.
anticipating the butcher.
After eight years in exile, observing the rise of the enemy
Then at least, brought up against an impassable frontier
You passed, they say, a passable one.
Empires collapse. Gang leaders
Are strutting about like statesmen. The peoples
Can no longer be seen under all those armaments.
So the future lies in darnkess and the forces of right
Are weak. All this was plain to you
When you destroyed a torturable body.
A parting thought on the role of Western "leftist" intellectuals: Raised in privilege as we were, it may already be too late for us to play a directly transformative role in the political struggle. People call upon the radical left to "do something," but, failing a miracle, I don't know if we can. We can write. We can develop theory that may one day be useful to a "real" revolutionary -- after all, Lenin was something of a hack philosopher, but he drew upon Marx and Engels as best he could. We can write, knowing that when the revolution comes, we will be indistinguishable from the oppressors, fully expecting to be swept up in a purge. The letters we write in our decadence may perhaps reach their destination, but as for "doing something" -- I daresay they also serve who only stand and wait. We know what side we're on. We know whom we would effectively be serving if we were to "do something." Better, perhaps, to sit in our little corner, destined to be the future equivalent of those hunched-over grammarians whose over-detailed study of the Greek classics finally made possible the Renaissance.
That last paragraph is probably something we could discuss; it by no means represents my final word on this matter.
