Umberto Eco Makes a List of the 14 Common Features of Fascism

Cre­ative Com­mons image by Rob Bogaerts, via the Nation­al Archives in Hol­land

One of the key ques­tions fac­ing both jour­nal­ists and loy­al oppo­si­tions these days is how do we stay hon­est as euphemisms and triv­i­al­iza­tions take over the dis­course? Can we use words like “fas­cism,” for exam­ple, with fideli­ty to the mean­ing of that word in world his­to­ry? The term, after all, devolved decades after World War II into the trite expres­sion fas­cist pig, writes Umber­to Eco in his 1995 essay “Ur-Fas­cism,” “used by Amer­i­can rad­i­cals thir­ty years lat­er to refer to a cop who did not approve of their smok­ing habits.” In the for­ties, on the oth­er hand, the fight against fas­cism was a “moral duty for every good Amer­i­can.” (And every good Eng­lish­man and French par­ti­san, he might have added.)

Eco grew up under Mussolini’s fas­cist regime, which “was cer­tain­ly a dic­ta­tor­ship, but it was not total­ly total­i­tar­i­an, not because of its mild­ness but rather because of the philo­soph­i­cal weak­ness of its ide­ol­o­gy. Con­trary to com­mon opin­ion, fas­cism in Italy had no spe­cial phi­los­o­phy.” It did, how­ev­er, have style, “a way of dressing—far more influ­en­tial, with its black shirts, than Armani, Benet­ton, or Ver­sace would ever be.” The dark humor of the com­ment indi­cates a crit­i­cal con­sen­sus about fas­cism. As a form of extreme nation­al­ism, it ulti­mate­ly takes on the con­tours of what­ev­er nation­al cul­ture pro­duces it.

It may seem to tax one word to make it account for so many dif­fer­ent cul­tur­al man­i­fes­ta­tions of author­i­tar­i­an­ism, across Europe and even South Amer­i­ca. Italy may have been “the first right-wing dic­ta­tor­ship that took over a Euro­pean coun­try,” and got to name  the polit­i­cal sys­tem. But Eco is per­plexed “why the word fas­cism became a synec­doche, that is, a word that could be used for dif­fer­ent total­i­tar­i­an move­ments.” For one thing, he writes, fas­cism was a fuzzy total­i­tar­i­an­ism, a col­lage of dif­fer­ent philo­soph­i­cal and polit­i­cal ideas, a bee­hive of con­tra­dic­tions.”

While Eco is firm in claim­ing “There was only one Nazism,” he says, “the fas­cist game can be played in many forms, and the name of the game does not change.” Eco reduces the qual­i­ties of what he calls “Ur-Fas­cism, or Eter­nal Fas­cism” down to 14 “typ­i­cal” fea­tures. “These fea­tures,” writes the nov­el­ist and semi­oti­cian, “can­not be orga­nized into a sys­tem; many of them con­tra­dict each oth­er, and are also typ­i­cal of oth­er kinds of despo­tism or fanati­cism. But it is enough that one of them be present to allow fas­cism to coag­u­late around it.”

  1. The cult of tra­di­tion. “One has only to look at the syl­labus of every fas­cist move­ment to find the major tra­di­tion­al­ist thinkers. The Nazi gno­sis was nour­ished by tra­di­tion­al­ist, syn­cretis­tic, occult ele­ments.”
  2. The rejec­tion of mod­ernism. “The Enlight­en­ment, the Age of Rea­son, is seen as the begin­ning of mod­ern deprav­i­ty. In this sense Ur-Fas­cism can be defined as irra­tional­ism.”
  3. The cult of action for action’s sake. “Action being beau­ti­ful in itself, it must be tak­en before, or with­out, any pre­vi­ous reflec­tion. Think­ing is a form of emas­cu­la­tion.”
  4. Dis­agree­ment is trea­son. “The crit­i­cal spir­it makes dis­tinc­tions, and to dis­tin­guish is a sign of mod­ernism. In mod­ern cul­ture the sci­en­tif­ic com­mu­ni­ty prais­es dis­agree­ment as a way to improve knowl­edge.”
  5. Fear of dif­fer­ence. “The first appeal of a fas­cist or pre­ma­ture­ly fas­cist move­ment is an appeal against the intrud­ers. Thus Ur-Fas­cism is racist by def­i­n­i­tion.”
  6. Appeal to social frus­tra­tion. “One of the most typ­i­cal fea­tures of the his­tor­i­cal fas­cism was the appeal to a frus­trat­ed mid­dle class, a class suf­fer­ing from an eco­nom­ic cri­sis or feel­ings of polit­i­cal humil­i­a­tion, and fright­ened by the pres­sure of low­er social groups.”
  7. The obses­sion with a plot. “Thus at the root of the Ur-Fas­cist psy­chol­o­gy there is the obses­sion with a plot, pos­si­bly an inter­na­tion­al one. The fol­low­ers must feel besieged.”
  8. The ene­my is both strong and weak. “By a con­tin­u­ous shift­ing of rhetor­i­cal focus, the ene­mies are at the same time too strong and too weak.”
  9. Paci­fism is traf­fick­ing with the ene­my. “For Ur-Fas­cism there is no strug­gle for life but, rather, life is lived for strug­gle.”
  10. Con­tempt for the weak. “Elit­ism is a typ­i­cal aspect of any reac­tionary ide­ol­o­gy.”
  11. Every­body is edu­cat­ed to become a hero. “In Ur-Fas­cist ide­ol­o­gy, hero­ism is the norm. This cult of hero­ism is strict­ly linked with the cult of death.”
  12. Machis­mo and weapon­ry. “Machis­mo implies both dis­dain for women and intol­er­ance and con­dem­na­tion of non­stan­dard sex­u­al habits, from chasti­ty to homo­sex­u­al­i­ty.”
  13. Selec­tive pop­ulism. “There is in our future a TV or Inter­net pop­ulism, in which the emo­tion­al response of a select­ed group of cit­i­zens can be pre­sent­ed and accept­ed as the Voice of the Peo­ple.”
  14. Ur-Fas­cism speaks Newspeak. “All the Nazi or Fas­cist school­books made use of an impov­er­ished vocab­u­lary, and an ele­men­tary syn­tax, in order to lim­it the instru­ments for com­plex and crit­i­cal rea­son­ing.”

This abridged list (avail­able in full at The New York Review of Books) comes to us from Kot­tke, by way of blog­ger Paul Bausch, who writes “we have a strong his­to­ry of oppos­ing author­i­tar­i­an­ism. I’d like to believe that oppo­si­tion is like an immune sys­tem response that kicks in.”

One detail of Eco’s essay that often goes unre­marked is his char­ac­ter­i­za­tion of the Ital­ian oppo­si­tion move­men­t’s unlike­ly coali­tions. The Resis­tance includ­ed Com­mu­nists who “exploit­ed the Resis­tance as if it were their per­son­al prop­er­ty,” and lead­ers like Eco’s child­hood hero Franchi, “so strong­ly anti-Com­mu­nist that after the war he joined very right-wing groups.” This itself may be a spe­cif­ic fea­ture of an Ital­ian resis­tance, one not observ­able across the num­ber of nations that have resist­ed total­i­tar­i­an gov­ern­ments. As for the seem­ing total lack of com­mon inter­est between these par­ties, Eco sim­ply says, “Who cares?… Lib­er­a­tion was a com­mon deed for peo­ple of dif­fer­ent col­ors.”

Read Eco’s essay at The New York Review of Books. There he elab­o­rates on each ele­ment of fas­cism at greater length. And sup­port NYRB by becom­ing a sub­scriber.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sto­ry of Fas­cism: Rick Steves’ Doc­u­men­tary Helps Us Learn from the Hard Lessons of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Yale Pro­fes­sor Jason Stan­ley Iden­ti­fies Three Essen­tial Fea­tures of Fas­cism: Invok­ing a Myth­ic Past, Sow­ing Divi­sion & Attack­ing Truth

20,000 Amer­i­cans Hold a Pro-Nazi Ral­ly in Madi­son Square Gar­den in 1939: Chill­ing Video Re-Cap­tures a Lost Chap­ter in US His­to­ry

Rare 1940 Audio: Thomas Mann Explains the Nazis’ Ulte­ri­or Motive for Spread­ing Anti-Semi­tism

George Orwell Reviews Mein Kampf: “He Envis­ages a Hor­ri­ble Brain­less Empire” (1940)

Watch the Evolution of Ringo Starr, Dave Grohl, Tré Cool & 19 Other Drummers in Short 5‑Minute Videos

I’ve always been more than hap­py to admit that I think Ringo Starr is a fan­tas­tic drum­mer and don’t find it much worth argu­ing over. Then again, more and more peo­ple seem to have come around to that point of view. Or at least that’s been my expe­ri­ence. Maybe it has some­thing to do with the length of expo­sure. Once you’ve lived with the Bea­t­les’ music for, say, twen­ty to fifty years, you’d had a lot of time to reflect on your favorite songs, or favorite moments (like the break­downs in “Hel­lo, Good­bye” and “Straw­ber­ry Fields,” for exam­ple). A lot of time to appre­ci­ate just how well so many of those songs, and Ringo’s drum­ming, have aged.

But not all of them. I haven’t always found the very ear­ly Bea­t­les albums to hold up well for me. There’s some­thing about… well… okay, maybe Ringo wasn’t always a great drum­mer. But he became one. The thing about a ret­ro­spec­tive appre­ci­a­tion is that it’s high­ly selec­tive.

How­ev­er, if we were to select ele­ments of Ringo’s tech­nique from songs span­ning the whole of his Bea­t­les career, we would be able to see how his play­ing refined from 1962 to 1995, when he made his last record­ings with George, Paul, and John—who left sev­er­al home demo tapes over which his band­mates lay­ered har­monies and rhythms. (Hear “Free as a Bird” from those ses­sions here.)

You could take the time to edit togeth­er sev­er­al sec­onds, chrono­log­i­cal­ly, of famous Bea­t­les songs through­out the six­ties and sev­en­ties. Or you could do that and play all those parts your­self, and shoot and edit a thor­ough­ly engag­ing, high-qual­i­ty video of your­self play­ing them. That’s what Kye Smith does in the videos here, part of a long series of 22 exer­cis­es he calls “5 Minute Drum Chronol­o­gy.” As you’ll see in his Bea­t­les video at the top, Smith has made some very thought­ful selec­tions from the canon, show­ing how thor­ough­ly ver­sa­tile Ringo’s play­ing became; how well he came to under­stand nuanced dynam­ics: when to attack and when not to play at all.

In his Nir­vana “5 Minute Drum Chronol­o­gy,” above, Smith not only dupli­cates the huge, boom­ing sound of Dave Grohl’s drumk­it, but he also per­fect­ly cap­tures Grohl’s tremen­dous ener­gy. With the focus square­ly on the drums, Grohl (through Smith) seems even more the hard­core punk drum­mer that he was for years before he joined Nir­vana. But by the time we get to “You Know You’re Right,” the last song the band record­ed in 1994, we see how he had dis­cov­ered a much lighter touch as well, one he devel­oped even fur­ther as a drum­mer for indie stars like Cat Pow­er.

Smith’s oth­er twen­ty 5 Minute Drum Chronolo­gies track bands who made it in the nineties, like The Off­spring, NOFX, Blink-182, and Foo Fight­ers. In many cas­es, none but ardent fans will know the drum­mers of these bands or have a sense of their full discog­ra­phy. But at least by the time we get to their break­out 1994 album Dook­ie, many of us will be famil­iar with a song or two from all of Green Day’s releas­es. And we’re like­ly to know the name and face of drum­mer Tré Cool. (The band’s first drum­mer, Al Sobrante, takes up the first 20 sec­onds of the video above.)

Is Tré Cool a drum­mer who has evolved over the years, devel­oped bet­ter feel and more finesse? At least the way Kye Smith plays him. Smith is such a tal­ent­ed drum­ming impres­sion­ist that one can look away and for­get that it’s him on the drums and not Cool. Which rais­es oth­er crit­i­cal issues with the impres­sive arti­fice of these chronolo­gies. These are, of course, inter­pre­ta­tions. And in any case, musi­cians have good nights and bad nights, great takes and not so great takes, and their style might vary more across a sin­gle album than between songs on dif­fer­ent records.

And in the case of a band like the Red Hot Chili Pep­pers, we’ve seen three dif­fer­ent drum­mers by the time the band released their fourth album, Mother’s Milk and took on high­ly skilled Will Fer­rell looka­like Chad Smith. Nonethe­less, Kye Smith gives us a lot to chew on as we watch, by proxy, these drum­mers adapt to the evo­lu­tion of their bands’ song­writ­ing. Some of those jour­neys are nat­u­ral­ly more inter­est­ing than oth­ers. See the com­plete col­lec­tion of 22 5 Minute Drum Chronolo­gies here, or down below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Neu­ro­science of Drum­ming: Researchers Dis­cov­er the Secrets of Drum­ming & The Human Brain

Iso­lat­ed Drum Tracks From Six of Rock’s Great­est: Bon­ham, Moon, Peart, Copeland, Grohl & Starr

The Fun­da­men­tals of Jazz & Rock Drum­ming Explained in Five Cre­ative Min­utes

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Three Pink Floyd Songs Played on the Traditional Korean Gayageum: “Comfortably Numb,” “Another Brick in the Wall” & “Great Gig in the Sky”

If you come vis­it South Korea, where I live, you’ll more than like­ly pass through Incheon Inter­na­tion­al Air­port, and there quite pos­si­bly wit­ness a vari­ety of dis­plays of tra­di­tion­al Kore­an cul­ture, from acro­bat­ics to aris­to­crat­ic pro­ces­sions to a vari­ety of musi­cal per­for­mances. Since the rebuild­ing of the coun­try after the Kore­an War, atten­tion has turned to recov­er­ing the arts and cus­toms of the past and, in one way or anoth­er, mak­ing them rel­e­vant to the present. Plac­ing them in the mid­dle of an ultra­mod­ern trans­porta­tion facil­i­ty is one; inter­pret­ing the stuff of rel­a­tive­ly recent pop­u­lar cul­ture with them is anoth­er.

A few years ago we fea­tured the skills of Luna Lee, a play­er of the gayageum, a twelve-stringed Kore­an instru­ment dat­ing back to the sixth cen­tu­ry. Specif­i­cal­ly, we fea­tured her ren­di­tions of Jimi Hen­drix’s “Voodoo Chile” and Ste­vie Ray Vaugh­an’s “Lit­tle Wing,” meet­ings of mod­ern com­po­si­tion and tra­di­tion­al East Asian per­for­mance rem­i­nis­cent of what Japan­ese koto play­er June Kuramo­to and her band Hiroshi­ma pio­neered in the 1970s.

But the Kore­an musi­cal sen­si­bil­i­ty brings a dif­fer­ent set of emo­tions into play, and now you can hear them hybridized with the psy­che­del­ic, oper­at­ic, vir­tu­osic rock of Pink Floyd in Lee’s ver­sions of “Anoth­er Brick in the Wall,” “Com­fort­ably Numb,” and “The Great Gig in the Sky,” all of which must have posed a for­mi­da­ble chal­lenge to con­vert into gayageum music.

“My ances­tors played the gayageum in a small room, so the sound did not need to be loud,” writes Lee on her Patre­on page, “but my music is per­formed with mod­ern instru­ments such as the drums, bass and the gui­tar. So I had to rede­vel­op my gayageum so that the sound would match that of the mod­ern instru­ment. I had to increase the vol­ume and pres­sure, devel­op tone and increase the sus­tain sound. And hop­ing to express the sound of gayageum more diverse­ly like that of the gui­tar, I had to study gui­tar effec­tors and ampli­fiers and test them to see if they would fit to the sound of the gayageum.”

Lee’s work of push­ing the gayageum into new musi­cal realms con­tin­ues: in oth­er videos, she tries her hand at adapt­ing songs by every­one from the Rolling Stones to R. Kel­ly to Tiny Tim to the late Leonard Cohen. But some­thing about her mul­ti­ple vis­its to the ter­ri­to­ry of Pink Floyd feels right. Per­haps, should we find our­selves in anoth­er great pro­gres­sive rock era, the gayageum will be the first instru­ment to join the sub­se­quent­ly expand­ed field of instru­ments — in both a tech­no­log­i­cal and his­tor­i­cal sense — let onto the stage. Stranger things have hap­pened there, as the Floyd well know.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Voodoo Chile’ Per­formed on a Gayageum, a Tra­di­tion­al Kore­an Instru­ment

Ste­vie Ray Vaughan’s Ver­sion of “Lit­tle Wing” Played on Tra­di­tion­al Kore­an Instru­ment, the Gayageum

Hear Lost Record­ing of Pink Floyd Play­ing with Jazz Vio­lin­ist Stéphane Grap­pel­li on “Wish You Were Here”

Ultra Ortho­dox Rab­bis Sing Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” on the Streets of Jerusalem

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Download Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man as a Free Audiobook (Available for a Limited Time)

When Ralph Elli­son pub­lished his first nov­el, Invis­i­ble Man, in 1952, it took the lit­er­ary world by storm. Orville Prescott, a lit­er­ary crit­ic at The New York Times, wrote in April of ’52:

Ralph Ellison’s first nov­el, “The Invis­i­ble Man,” is the most impres­sive work of fic­tion by an Amer­i­can Negro which I have ever read. Unlike Richard Wright and Willard Mot­ley, who achieve their best effects by over­pow­er­ing their read­ers with doc­u­men­tary detail, Mr. Elli­son is a fin­ished nov­el­ist who uses words with great skill, who writes with poet­ic inten­si­ty and immense nar­ra­tive dri­ve. “Invis­i­ble Man” has many flaws. It is a sen­sa­tion­al and fever­ish­ly emo­tion­al book. It will shock and sick­en some of its read­ers. But, what­ev­er the final ver­dict on “Invis­i­ble Man” may be, it does mark the appear­ance of a rich­ly tal­ent­ed writer.

Invis­i­ble Man won the U.S. Nation­al Book Award for Fic­tion the fol­low­ing year. And the belief that Elli­son wrote some­thing spe­cial has­n’t dimin­ished since. Case in point: When Mod­ern Library cre­at­ed a list of the 100 best Eng­lish-lan­guage nov­els of the 20th cen­tu­ry, they placed Invis­i­ble Man at num­ber 19.

As Don Katz tells us above, the book touched him deeply dur­ing his col­lege years at NYU. Now the founder and CEO of Audible.com, he’s let­ting you down­load Invis­i­ble Man as a free audio­book. The free down­load is avail­able at Audi­ble and at Ama­zon until Decem­ber 31st. (Audi­ble is an Ama­zon sub­sidiary). Please note that you’ll need to cre­ate an account to get the down­load. But appar­ent­ly no payment/credit card info is required.

Sep­a­rate­ly, I should also men­tion that Audi­ble offers a free 30-day tri­al pro­gram, where they let you down­load two pro­fes­sion­al­ly-read audio­books. At the end of 30 days, you can decide whether to become an Audi­ble sub­scriber or not. Either way, you can keep the two free audio­books. Find more infor­ma­tion on that free tri­al pro­gram here.

Again, the links to down­load Invis­i­ble Man are here: Audi­ble — Ama­zon. And remem­ber, we have more free audio­books in our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free. Most­ly clas­sics.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent

Ralph Elli­son Reads from His Novel-in-Progress,Juneteenth, in Rare Video Footage (1966)

Flan­nery O’Connor Reads ‘A Good Man is Hard to Find’ in Rare 1959 Audio

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How to Recognize a Dystopia: Watch an Animated Introduction to Dystopian Fiction

Lit­er­a­ture and film can open up to the depth and immen­si­ty of social truths we find pro­found­ly dif­fi­cult, if not impos­si­ble, to artic­u­late. If our polit­i­cal vocab­u­lary (as Oxford Dic­tio­nar­ies sug­gest­ed in their word of the year) has become “post-truth,” it can seem like the only hon­est rep­re­sen­ta­tions of real­i­ty are found in the imag­i­nary.

Amidst the vio­lent upheavals of the last cou­ple decades, for exam­ple, we have seen an explo­sion of the dystopi­an, that ven­er­a­ble yet mod­ern genre we use to explain our con­tem­po­rary polit­i­cal con­di­tions to our­selves. It has become com­mon prac­tice in seri­ous debate to ges­ture toward the out­sized cin­e­mat­ic sce­nar­ios of Snow­piercer, or The Hunger Games and Har­ry Pot­ter series, as stand-ins for dis­turb­ing present real­i­ties.

You may have also encoun­tered recent ref­er­ences to lit­er­ary spec­u­la­tive fic­tion like William Gibson’s The Periph­er­al, Mar­garet Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, Olivia Butler’s Para­ble series, and Philip K. Dick’s Radio Free Albe­muth, the first nov­el Dick wrote before VALIS about his sup­posed reli­gious expe­ri­ence. Draft­ed in 1976 but only pub­lished posthu­mous­ly in 1985, Dick­’s pre­scient nov­el takes place in an alter­nate U.S. (like The Man in the High Cas­tle), in which para­noid right-wing zealot Fer­ris Fre­mont, a Joseph McCarthy/Richard Nixon-like fig­ure, suc­ceeds Lyn­don John­son as pres­i­dent.

There is no point in dwelling on the ethics of Fer­ris Fre­mont.… The Sovi­ets backed him, the right-wingers backed him, and final­ly just about every­one… Fre­mont had the back­ing of the US intel­li­gence com­mu­ni­ty, as they liked to call them­selves, and exi­gents played an effec­tive role in dec­i­mat­ing polit­i­cal oppo­si­tion. In a one-par­ty sys­tem there is always a land­slide.

The sti­fling total­i­tar­i­an con­trol Fre­mont exer­cis­es is very much a hall­mark of dystopi­an fic­tion. But does Dick’s novel—set in an alter­nate present rather than a fright­en­ing future, and with an alien/supernatural invasion—qualify as dystopi­an? What about Har­ry Pot­ter, with its fairy tale intru­sions of the mag­i­cal into the present? The TED Ed video at the top, nar­rat­ed by Alex Gendler, sets flex­i­ble bound­aries for a cat­e­go­ry we’ve most­ly come to asso­ciate with prophet­ic, futur­is­tic sci­ence fic­tion, and offers a broad­ly com­pre­hen­sive def­i­n­i­tion.

The word dystopia, a Greek coinage for “bad place,” dates to 1868, from a usage by John Stu­art Mill to char­ac­ter­ize the indus­tri­al world’s moral inver­sion of Sir Thomas More’s Utopia. That word, Gendler points out, is a term More invent­ed to mean either “no place” or “good place.” Gendler dates the emer­gence of the dystopi­an to Jonathan Swift’s satire Gulliver’s Trav­els, a book, like Har­ry Pot­ter, set in an alter­nate present fea­tur­ing many mon­strous intru­sions of the fan­tas­tic into the real. Unlike the boy wiz­ard’s saga, how­ev­er, the mon­sters in Gul­liv­er serve as alle­gories for us.

Swift, Gendler argues, “estab­lished a blue­print for dystopia.” His Lil­liputians, Bob­d­ing­na­gians, Laputions, and Houy­hnhn­ms all rep­re­sent “cer­tain trends in con­tem­po­rary soci­ety… tak­en to extremes.” In lat­er exam­ples, the form con­tin­ued to reflect the per­ni­cious thought and sci­ence of the age: the extreme eugen­ics of H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine, the prison-like fac­to­ry con­di­tions of Fritz Lang’s film Metrop­o­lis, the repres­sive hyper-ratio­nal­iza­tion in Yevge­ny Zamyatin’s 1924 Sovi­et-based dystopia We, and the med­ical tech­noc­ra­cy of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.

Bor­row­ing lib­er­al­ly from Zamy­atin and com­pet­ing with Hux­ley, George Orwell’s 1984 set a new stan­dard of verisimil­i­tude for dystopi­an fic­tion, stark­ly remind­ing thou­sands of post-war read­ers that “the best-known dystopias were not imag­i­nary at all,” Gendler says. The his­tor­i­cal night­mares of World War II and the fol­low­ing Cold War dic­ta­tor­ships birthed hor­rors for which we can nev­er find appro­pri­ate lan­guage. And so we turn to nov­els like 1984 and Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cra­dle, both of which apt­ly show us worlds where lan­guage has ceased to func­tion in any ordi­nary com­mu­nica­tive sense.

Per­haps one of the most-ref­er­enced of dystopi­an nov­els in U.S. polit­i­cal dis­course, Sin­clair Lewis’ 1935 It Can’t Hap­pen Here, gave lit­tle but its title to the pop­u­lar lex­i­con. “Lewis,” writes Alexan­der Nazaryan in The New York­er, “was nev­er much of an artist, but what he lacked in style he made up for with social obser­va­tion.” The nov­el “envi­sioned how eas­i­ly,” Gendler says, “democ­ra­cy gives way to fas­cism.” The cri­sis point comes when the peo­ple want “safe­ty and con­ser­vatism again,” as Roo­sevelt observed that same year—a year in which “the promise of the New Deal,” Nazaryan remarks, “remained unful­filled for many.”

The irony of Lewis’ sce­nario is that those left behind by Roo­sevelt’s poli­cies are those who suf­fer most under the fic­tion­al pres­i­den­cy of author­i­tar­i­an Sen­a­tor Berzelius “Buzz” Win­drip. Mean­while, the more com­fort­able con­sole them­selves with hol­low denials: “it can’t hap­pen here.” Extreme eco­nom­ic inequal­i­ty and social strat­i­fi­ca­tion have been an essen­tial fea­ture of clas­si­cal utopi­an fic­tion since its first appear­ance in Plato’s Repub­lic. In the mod­ern lit­er­ary dystopia, the sci­ence, tech­nol­o­gy, and polit­i­cal mech­a­niza­tion that philoso­phers once cel­e­brat­ed become implaca­ble weapons of war against the cit­i­zen­ry.

For all the mal­leable bound­aries of the genre—which strays into sci­ence fic­tion, fan­ta­sy, sur­re­al­ism, and satire—dystopian fic­tions all have one uni­fy­ing theme: “At their heart,” says Gendler, “dystopias are cau­tion­ary tales, not about some par­tic­u­lar gov­ern­ment or tech­nol­o­gy, but the very idea that human­i­ty can be mold­ed into an ide­al shape.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Clock­work Orange Author Antho­ny Burgess Lists His Five Favorite Dystopi­an Nov­els: Orwell’s 1984, Huxley’s Island & More

Octavia Butler’s 1998 Dystopi­an Nov­el Fea­tures a Fascis­tic Pres­i­den­tial Can­di­date Who Promis­es to “Make Amer­i­ca Great Again”

Hux­ley to Orwell: My Hell­ish Vision of the Future is Bet­ter Than Yours (1949)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Hieronymus Bosch’s Medieval Painting, “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” Comes to Life in a Gigantic, Modern Animation

For the 500-year anniver­sary of Hierony­mus Bosch’s death, the MOTI Muse­um in Hol­land com­mis­sioned a mod­ern re-inter­pre­ta­tion of the Dutch painter’s famous medieval paint­ing, “The Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights” (cir­ca 1490). If you’re not famil­iar with Bosch’s enig­mat­ic cre­ation, explore these two items before you do any­thing else:

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of Hierony­mus Bosch’s Bewil­der­ing Mas­ter­piece The Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights

New App Lets You Explore Hierony­mus Bosch’s “The Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights” in Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty

Then check out the video above, which gives you a glimpse of the gigan­tic video instal­la­tion that’s on dis­play at the MOTI through Decem­ber 31st.

Here’s how the Dutch ani­ma­tors behind this project explain what’s unfold­ing before your eyes:

[We] cleared the orig­i­nal land­scape of the mid­dle pan­el of Bosch’s paint­ing and recon­struct­ed it into a hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry 4K ani­ma­tion. The crea­tures that pop­u­late this indoor play­ground embody the excess­es and desires of 21st cen­tu­ry West­ern civ­i­liza­tion. Con­sumerism, self­ish­ness, escapism, the lure of eroti­cism, van­i­ty and deca­dence. All char­ac­ters are metaphors for our soci­ety where lon­ers swarm their dig­i­tal dream world. They are sym­bol­ic reflec­tions of egos and an imag­i­na­tion of peo­ple as they see them­selves — unlike Bosch’s ver­sion, where all indi­vid­u­als more or less look the same. From a horny Hel­lo Kit­ty to a coke hunt­ing penis snake. From an incar­nate spy­bot to head­less fried chick­ens. These char­ac­ters, once pre­cise­ly paint­ed dream fig­ures, are now dig­i­tal­ly cre­at­ed 3D mod­els. All of them have been giv­en their own ani­ma­tion loop to wan­der through the land­scape. By plac­ing them alto­geth­er in this syn­thet­ic fres­co, the pic­ture is nev­er the same. What the ani­ma­tion and Bosch’s trip­tych have in com­mon is that you’ll hard­ly be able to take it all in, you can watch it for hours.

If you hap­pen to find your­self in Hol­land, you can expe­ri­ence the instal­la­tion first­hand (again before 12/31). Find direc­tions to the MOTI here.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rijksmu­se­um Dig­i­tizes & Makes Free Online 273,000 Works of Art, Mas­ter­pieces Includ­ed!

Down­load All 36 of Jan Vermeer’s Beau­ti­ful­ly Rare Paint­ings (Most in Stun­ning High Res­o­lu­tion)

Take a Mul­ti­me­dia Tour of the But­tock Song in Hierony­mus Bosch’s Paint­ing The Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights

Dis­cov­er 100 Impor­tant Paint­ings with Videos Cre­at­ed by Khan Acad­e­my & Google Art Project

Free Course: An Intro­duc­tion to the Art of the Ital­ian Renais­sance

1.8 Mil­lion Free Works of Art from World-Class Muse­ums: A Meta List of Great Art Avail­able Online

Down­load 464 Free Art Books from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

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New Animation Brings to Life a Lost 1974 Interview with Leonard Cohen, and Cohen Reading His Poem “Two Slept Together”

Leonard Cohen was graced with a dis­tinc­tive slow burn of a voice, a man­ly purr well suit­ed to the louche mys­ter­ies of his most famous lyrics.

His death prompt­ed a post-elec­tion out­pour­ing from his already crest­fall­en fans, who sought cathar­sis by shar­ing the myr­i­ad ways in which his music had touched their lives.

As Cohen remarked in a 1995 inter­view with the New York Times

Music is like bread. It is one of the fun­da­men­tal nour­ish­ments that we have avail­able, and there are many dif­fer­ent vari­eties and degrees and grades. A song that is use­ful, that touch­es some­body, must be mea­sured by that util­i­ty alone. ‘Cheap music’ is an unchar­i­ta­ble descrip­tion. If it touch­es you, it’s not cheap. From a cer­tain point of view, all our emo­tions are cheap, but those are the only ones we’ve got. It’s lone­li­ness and long­ing and desire and cel­e­bra­tion.

Rolling Stone dubbed Cohen the Poet Lau­re­ate Of Out­rage And Roman­tic Despair. It’s far from his only nick­name, but it man­ages to encom­pass most of the oth­er 325 that super fan Allan Showal­ter col­lect­ed for his Cohen­cen­tric site.

Have you used Cohen’s music to “illu­mi­nate or dig­ni­fy your court­ing” (to bor­row anoth­er phrase from that Times inter­view)?

If so, you deserve to know that those seduc­tive lyrics aren’t always what they seem.

For one thing, he nev­er got car­nal with Suzanne.

Dit­to the “Sis­ters of Mer­cy.” Turns out they real­ly “weren’t lovers like that.” Cohen var­ied the facts a bit over the years, when called upon to recount this song’s ori­gin sto­ry. The loca­tion of the ini­tial meet­ing was a mov­ing tar­get, and ear­ly on, van­i­ty, or per­haps a rep­u­ta­tion to uphold, caused him to omit a cer­tain crit­i­cal detail regard­ing the night spent with two young women he bumped into in snowy Edmon­ton.

The 1974 radio inter­view with Kath­leen Kendel, above—straight from the horse’s mouth, and fresh­ly ani­mat­ed for PBS’ Blank on Blank series—brings to mind that pil­lar of young male sex com­e­dy, the close-but-no-cig­ar erot­ic encounter.

PBS’ Blank on Blank ani­ma­tor, Patrick Smith, wise­ly employs a light­ly humor­ous touch in depict­ing Cohen’s wild imag­in­ing of the delights Bar­bara and Lor­raine had in store for him. Whether or not they looked like the Dou­blemint Twins is a ques­tion for the ages.

The ani­ma­tion kicks off with a read­ing of his 1964 poem, “Two Went to Sleep,” an ellip­ti­cal jour­ney into the realm of the uncon­scious, a set­ting that pre­oc­cu­pied Cohen the poet. (See the far less pla­ton­ic-seem­ing “My Lady Can Sleep” and “Now of Sleep­ing” for starters…)

You can hear the inter­view Blank on Blank excerpt­ed for the above ani­ma­tion in its entire­ty here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Leonard Cohen’s Final Inter­view: Record­ed by David Rem­nick of The New York­er

How Leonard Cohen’s Stint As a Bud­dhist Monk Can Help You Live an Enlight­ened Life

Ani­mat­ed Video: John­ny Cash Explains Why Music Became a Reli­gious Call­ing

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er, Leonard Cohen fan and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is open­ing in New York City in March 2017. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The 10 Favorite Films of Rainer Werner Fassbinder

Despite liv­ing for only 37 years, and with­in that hav­ing a career that last­ed for only fif­teen, the Ger­man auteur Rain­er Wern­er Fass­binder cre­at­ed so pro­lif­i­cal­ly that his final list of accom­plish­ments includes direct­ing forty fea­ture films, three shorts, and two tele­vi­sion series, as well as appear­ing in 36 dif­fer­ent roles as an actor — to say noth­ing of his works in oth­er media and his con­sid­er­able influ­ence on sub­se­quent gen­er­a­tions of film­mak­ers around the world. Sheer pro­duc­tiv­i­ty aside, many of these works have either stood the test of time, like The Bit­ter Tears of Petra von Kant and Berlin Alexan­der­platz or, like philo­soph­i­cal sci­ence fic­tion World on a Wire, enjoyed recent redis­cov­er­ies.

What could have inspired in Fass­binder such unre­lent­ing cre­ativ­i­ty? His list of ten favorite films, drawn up a year before his death in 1982, pro­vides some clues. “Fassbinder’s very favorite was Visconti’s The Damned, a visu­al­ly sump­tu­ous panora­ma of soci­etal col­lapse and decay in Third Reich Ger­many and no doubt an influ­ence on the Ger­man auteur’s own “BRD Tril­o­gy,” in par­tic­u­lar the bawdy, bor­del­lo-set Lola,” writes Indiewire’s Ryan Lat­tanzio. He also “loved Max Ophuls’ 1955 Lola Montes, the sad sto­ry of a kept woman shot in the kind of glo­ri­ous­ly ren­dered col­or Fass­binder would lat­er employ in his own work. As with many top 10 lists com­piled by con­fronta­tion­al film­mak­ers, Pasolini’s beau­ti­ful­ly ugly descent into hell Salò was also close to his heart.”

Fass­binder’s final favorite-films list runs, in full, as fol­lows:

  1. The Damned (1969, Dir: Luchi­no Vis­con­ti)
  2. The Naked And the Dead (1958, Dir: Raoul Walsh)
  3. Lola Montes (1955, Dir: Max Ophuls)
  4. Flamin­go Road (1949, Dir: Michael Cur­tiz)
  5. Salò, or the 120 Days Of Sodom (1975, Dir: Pier Pao­lo Pasoli­ni)
  6. Gen­tle­men Pre­fer Blondes (1953, Dir: Howard Hawks)
  7. Dis­hon­ored (1931, Dir: Josef von Stern­berg)
  8. The Night Of The Hunter (1955, Dir: Charles Laughton)
  9. John­ny Gui­tar (1954, Dir: Nicholas Ray)
  10. The Red Snow­ball Tree (1973, Dir: Vasili Shuk­shin)

If one qual­i­ty unites all of Fass­binder’s motion pic­tures of choice, from all the afore­men­tioned to the stark, near-Expres­sion­ist noir of Night of the Hunter to the super­hu­man­ly snap­py com­e­dy of Gen­tle­men Pre­fer Blondes to the West­ern genre rein­ven­tion, high­ly appre­ci­at­ed in Europe, of John­ny Gui­tar, it might well be vivid­ness. All of these movies, each in their own way, allowed Fass­binder to release the vivid­ness — and cin­e­ma his­to­ry has remem­bered him as a mas­ter of the vivid as well as the vis­cer­al — res­i­dent in his imag­i­na­tion. Alas, no mat­ter how much he man­aged to real­ize, a great deal more of it sure­ly passed away with him.

via Indiewire

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Aki­ra Kurosawa’s List of His 100 Favorite Movies

Woody Allen Lists the Great­est Films of All Time: Includes Clas­sics by Bergman, Truf­faut & Felli­ni

Mar­tin Scors­ese Reveals His 12 Favorite Movies (and Writes a New Essay on Film Preser­va­tion)

Stan­ley Kubrick’s List of Top 10 Films (The First and Only List He Ever Cre­at­ed)

Andrei Tarkovsky Cre­ates a List of His 10 Favorite Films (1972)

Susan Sontag’s 50 Favorite Films (and Her Own Cin­e­mat­ic Cre­ations)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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