Tom Morello Responds to Angry Fans Who Suddenly Realize That Rage Against the Machine’s Music Is Political: “What Music of Mine DIDN’T Contain Political BS?”

I, Danc­ing Bear,” a song by an obscure folk artist who goes by the name Bir­d­engine, begins thus:

There are some things that I just do not care to know

It’s a love­ly lit­tle tune, if maudlin and macabre are your thing, a song one might almost call anti-polit­i­cal. It is the art of solip­sism, denial, an inward­ness that dances over the abyss of pure self, navel gaz­ing for its own sake. It is Kaf­ka-esque, pathet­ic, and hys­ter­i­cal. I love it.

My appre­ci­a­tion for this weird, out­sider New Roman­ti­cism does not entail a belief that art and cul­ture should be “apo­lit­i­cal,” what­ev­er that is.

Or that artists, writ­ers, musi­cians, actors, ath­letes, or whomev­er should shut up about pol­i­tics and stick to what they do best, talk about them­selves.

The idea that artists should avoid pol­i­tics seems so per­va­sive that fans of some of the most bla­tant­ly polit­i­cal, rad­i­cal artists have nev­er noticed the pol­i­tics, because, I guess, they just couldn’t be there.

One such fan just got dunked on, as they say, a whole bunch on Twit­ter when he raged against Tom Morel­lo for the “polit­i­cal bs.”

That’s Tom Morel­lo of Rage Against the Machine, whose debut 1992 album informed us that the police and the Klan work hand in hand, and that cops are the “cho­sen whites” for state-sanc­tioned mur­der. That Rage Against the Machine, who raged against the same Machine on every album: “Bam, here’s the plan; Moth­er­fuck Uncle Sam.”

The poor sod was burned so bad­ly he delet­ed his account, but the laughs at his expense kept com­ing. Even Morel­lo respond­ed.

Why? Because the dis­grun­tled for­mer fan is not just one lone crank who didn’t get it. Many peo­ple over the years have expressed out­rage at find­ing out there’s so much pol­i­tics in their cul­ture, even in a band like Rage that could not have been less sub­tle. Many, like for­mer lever-puller of the Machine, Paul Ryan, seem to have cyn­i­cal­ly missed the point and turned them into work­out music. Morel­lo’s had to point this out a lot. (Dit­to Spring­steen.)

This uncrit­i­cal con­sump­tion of cul­ture with­out a thought about icky polit­i­cal issues is maybe one rea­son we have a sep­a­rate polit­i­cal class, paid hand­some­ly to do the dirty work while the rest of us go shop­ping. It’s a recipe for mass igno­rance and fas­cism.

You might think me crazy if I told you that the CIA is part­ly respon­si­ble for our expec­ta­tion that art and cul­ture should be apo­lit­i­cal. The Agency did, after all, fol­low the lead of the New Crit­ics, who exclud­ed all out­side polit­i­cal and social con­sid­er­a­tions from art (so they said).

Influ­en­tial lit­er­ary edi­tors and writ­ing pro­gram direc­tors on the Agency pay­roll made sure to fall in line, pro­mot­ing a cer­tain kind of writ­ing that focused on the indi­vid­ual and ele­vat­ed psy­cho­log­i­cal con­flict over social con­cerns. This influ­ence, writes The Chron­i­cle of High­er Edu­ca­tion, “flat­tened lit­er­a­ture” and set the bound­aries for what was cul­tur­al­ly accept­able. (Still, CIA-fund­ed jour­nals like The Paris Review pub­lished dozens of “polit­i­cal” writ­ers like Richard Wright, Gabriel Gar­cia Mar­quez, and James Bald­win.)

Then there’s the whole busi­ness of Hol­ly­wood film as a source of Pen­ta­gon-fund­ed pro­pa­gan­da, sold as innocu­ous, apo­lit­i­cal enter­tain­ment….

When it comes to jour­nal­ism, an ide­al of objec­tiv­i­ty, like Emerson’s inno­cent, dis­em­bod­ied trans­par­ent eye, became a stan­dard only in the 20th cen­tu­ry, osten­si­bly to weed out polit­i­cal bias. But that ide­al serves the inter­ests of pow­er more often than not. If media rep­re­sents exist­ing pow­er rela­tion­ships with­out ques­tion­ing their legit­i­ma­cy, it can claim objec­tiv­i­ty and bal­ance; if it chal­lenges pow­er, it becomes too “polit­i­cal.”

The adjec­tive is weaponized against art and cul­ture that makes cer­tain peo­ple who have pow­er uncom­fort­able. Say­ing “I don’t like polit­i­cal bs in my cul­ture” is say­ing “I don’t care to know the pol­i­tics are there.”

If, after decades of pump­ing “Killing in the Name,” you final­ly noticed them, then all that’s hap­pened is you’ve final­ly noticed. Cul­ture has always includ­ed the polit­i­cal, whether those pol­i­tics are shaped by mon­archs or state agen­cies or shout­ed in rap met­al songs (just ask Ice‑T) and fought over on Twit­ter. Maybe now it’s just get­ting hard­er to look away.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pol­i­tics & Phi­los­o­phy of the Bauhaus Design Move­ment: A Short Intro­duc­tion

Hear a 4 Hour Playlist of Great Protest Songs: Bob Dylan, Nina Simone, Bob Mar­ley, Pub­lic Ene­my, Bil­ly Bragg & More

Love the Art, Hate the Artist: How to Approach the Art of Dis­graced Artists

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

Imagining the Martin Luther King and Malcolm X Debate That Never Happened

Amer­i­can his­to­ry as it’s usu­al­ly taught likes to focus on rival­ries, and there are many involv­ing big per­son­al­i­ties and major his­tor­i­cal stakes. Abra­ham Lin­coln and Stephen Dou­glas, Thomas Jef­fer­son and Alexan­der Hamil­ton, W.E.B. DuBois and Book­er T. Wash­ing­ton. These fig­ures are set up to rep­re­sent the “both sides” we expect of every polit­i­cal ques­tion. While the issues are over­sim­pli­fied (there are always more than two sides and pol­i­tics isn’t a sport) the fig­ures in ques­tion gen­uine­ly rep­re­sent­ed very dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives on pow­er and progress.

When it comes to the his­to­ry of the Civ­il Rights move­ment, we are giv­en anoth­er such rival­ry, between Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. and Mal­colm X. Their ideas and influ­ence are pit­ted against each oth­er as though they had shared a debate stage. In fact, the two lead­ers met only once, dur­ing Sen­ate debates on the Civ­il Rights Act of 1964. “King was step­ping out of a news con­fer­ence,” writes DeNeen L. Brown at The Wash­ing­ton Post, when Mal­colm X, dressed in an ele­gant black over­coat and wear­ing his sig­na­ture horn-rimmed glass­es, greet­ed him.”

“Well, Mal­colm, good to see you,” King said.

“Good to see you,” Mal­colm X replied.

Cam­eras clicked as the two men walked down the Sen­ate hall togeth­er.

“I’m throw­ing myself into the heart of the civ­il rights strug­gle,” Mal­colm X told King.

Lat­er, King would express his dis­agree­ment with Malcolm’s “polit­i­cal and philo­soph­i­cal views—at least inso­far as I under­stand where he now stands.” The com­ment allowed for an evo­lu­tion in X’s thought that would, in fact, occur that year, while lat­er events would push King in a far more rad­i­cal direc­tion. As Brown writes:

Although the two men held what appeared to be dia­met­ri­cal­ly oppos­ing views on the strug­gle for equal rights, schol­ars say by the end of their lives their ide­olo­gies were evolv­ing. King was becom­ing more mil­i­tant in his views of eco­nom­ic jus­tice for black peo­ple and more vocal in his crit­i­cism of the Viet­nam War. Mal­colm X, who had bro­ken with the Nation of Islam, had dra­mat­i­cal­ly changed his views on race dur­ing his 1964 pil­grim­age to Mec­ca.

“Much of Amer­i­ca did not know the rad­i­cal King—and too few know today,” writes Cor­nell West in his intro­duc­tion to The Rad­i­cal King, a col­lec­tion of less­er-known speech­es and writ­ings. But “the FBI and US gov­ern­ment did. They called him ‘the most dan­ger­ous man in Amer­i­ca.’” Mal­colm X’s extreme­ly harsh crit­i­cism of King as “a 20th-cen­tu­ry or mod­ern Uncle Tom” is even more unfair and unwar­rant­ed against this back­ground, espe­cial­ly giv­en the title of King’s final, unde­liv­ered, ser­mon: “Why Amer­i­ca May Go to Hell.”

In the years after X’s death, King fought for labor rights and advo­cat­ed for “a bet­ter dis­tri­b­u­tion of wealth,” writ­ing in 1966, “Amer­i­ca must move toward demo­c­ra­t­ic social­ism.” His anti-impe­ri­al­ist, anti-colo­nial stance alien­at­ed many for­mer sup­port­ers and enraged the gov­ern­ment, but “he refused to silence his voice in his quest for unarmed truth and uncon­di­tion­al love,” West writes. Maybe Malcolm’s unre­lent­ing crit­i­cisms played a part in King’s rad­i­cal­iza­tion.

The video “debate” above—actually a 9‑minute edit of their inter­view dis­cus­sions of each other—begins with one of Mal­colm X’s with­er­ing state­ments about King’s non­vi­o­lent resis­tance, which he char­ac­ter­izes as “defense­less­ness.” One can see, giv­en the ad hominem attacks, why King refused requests for a debate. Had it hap­pened, how­ev­er, it might have gone some­thing like this, with ques­tions focused sole­ly on vio­lence vs. non­vi­o­lence as effec­tive and/or moral­ly jus­ti­fi­able tac­tics for the Civ­il Rights strug­gle.

The nuances and sick­en­ing his­tor­i­cal ironies of the ques­tion get lost when dis­agree­ment is staged as a zero-sum prize­fight, as the Rocky theme in the intro not-so-sub­tly sug­gests it is. King, X, and vir­tu­al­ly every oth­er civ­il rights leader through­out his­to­ry, under­stood the prac­ti­cal impor­tance of self-defense in a vio­lent­ly racist state. “Even the paci­fist King was a firm advo­cate of black gun own­er­ship,” writes John Mer­field at Wis­con­sin Pub­lic Radio,” although he, like oth­ers, drew a sharp dis­tinc­tion between self-defense, which he saw as legit­i­mate, and polit­i­cal vio­lence, which he called fol­ly.”

King also staunch­ly refused to address the ques­tion of vio­lence out­side the larg­er ques­tion of jus­tice, with­out which, he said, there could be no peace. Move­ment lead­ers like Angela Davis who car­ried for­ward the rad­i­cal, anti-impe­ri­al­ist analy­sis of both the lat­er King and X would con­tin­ue to push against the sim­plis­tic ques­tion of whether vio­lence is jus­ti­fied as a response to bru­tal oppres­sion. In a famous inter­view clip above, she demon­strates the absur­di­ty of the idea that peo­ple sub­ject­ed to racial ter­ror­ism by the author­i­ties and groups pro­tect­ed by them should have to answer charges of com­mit­ting polit­i­cal vio­lence.

The his­to­ry of racist killings is a long “unbro­ken line,” said Davis more recent­ly dur­ing the Fer­gu­son upris­ing. While Civ­il Rights lead­ers of the 20th cen­tu­ry may have dis­agreed about the right response, all of them agreed it had to end imme­di­ate­ly if the coun­try is to sur­vive and the promise of true free­dom to be real­ized.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Mal­colm X Debate at Oxford, Quot­ing Lines from Shakespeare’s Ham­let (1964)

Mar­tin Luther King Jr. Explains the Impor­tance of Jazz: Hear the Speech He Gave at the First Berlin Jazz Fes­ti­val (1964)

Ava DuVernay’s Sel­ma Is Now Free to Stream Online: Watch the Award-Win­ning Director’s Film About Mar­tin Luther King’s 1965 Vot­ing-Rights March

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

Gil Scott-Heron Spells Out Why “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”

Con­sid­er the influ­ence of tele­vi­sion, even in the dig­i­tal age. Con­sid­er the pow­er that net­works like Fox and CNN con­tin­ue to wield over that neb­u­lous thing called pub­lic opin­ion; the con­tin­ued dom­i­nance of NBC and CBS. These giants don’t real­ly inform so much as sell pack­aged ide­o­log­i­cal con­tent paid for and approved by cor­po­rate spon­sors. There’s real­ly no need to update poet and musi­cian Gil Scott-Heron’s rad­i­cal, 1971 clas­sic “The Rev­o­lu­tion Will Not Be Tele­vised,” unless we want­ed to change the names. His voice still speaks direct­ly to the moment we live in.

We exist on a con­tin­u­um of con­di­tions that have wors­ened since the late 1960s—despite promis­es and appear­ances to the contrary—until they have become intol­er­a­ble. Scott-Heron wrote and sang about those con­di­tions since his fiery 1970 debut.

“Dubbed the ‘God­fa­ther of Rap,’” notes Brook­lyn Rail in a 2007 inter­view, “Scott-Heron has become a ubiq­ui­tous and prac­ti­cal­ly de rigueur influ­ence for every­one from hip hop­pers and indie rock­ers to aging literati and dyed-in-the-wool aca­d­e­mics.”

One might think Scott-Heron’s clas­sic spo­ken-word tes­ta­ment “The Rev­o­lu­tion Will Not Be Tele­vised” speaks for itself by now, but it still cre­ates con­fu­sion in part because peo­ple still mis­con­strue the nature of the medi­um. Why can’t you sit at home and watch jour­nal­ists cov­er protests and revolts on TV? If you think you’re see­ing “the Rev­o­lu­tion” instead of curat­ed, maybe spu­ri­ous, con­tent designed to tell a sto­ry and gin up views, you’re fool­ing your­self.

But Scott-Heron also had some­thing else in mind—you can’t see the rev­o­lu­tion on TV because you can’t see it at all. As he says above in a 1990s inter­view:

The first change that takes place is in your mind. You have to change your mind before you change the way you live and the way you move. The thing that’s going to change peo­ple is some­thing that nobody will ever be able to cap­ture on film. It’s just some­thing that you see and you’ll think, “Oh I’m on the wrong page,” or “I’m on I’m on the right page but the wrong note. And I’ve got to get in sync with every­one else to find out what’s hap­pen­ing in this coun­try.”

If we real­ize we’re out of sync with what’s real­ly hap­pen­ing, we can­not find out more on tele­vi­sion. The infor­ma­tion is where the bat­tles are being fought, at street lev­el, and in the mech­a­nisms of the legal process. “I think that the Black Amer­i­cans are the only real die-hard Amer­i­cans here,” Scott-Heron goes on, “because we’re the only ones who’ve car­ried the process through the process…. We’re the ones who marched… we’re the ones who tried to go through the courts. Being born Amer­i­can didn’t seem to mat­ter.” It still doesn’t, as we see in the killings of George Floyd and Bre­on­na Tay­lor and so many before them, and in the griev­ous injuries and deaths from uncon­sti­tu­tion­al, mil­i­tary-grade police esca­la­tions nation­wide since.

Scott-Heron asked us to ques­tion the nar­ra­tives. “How do they know?” he sang in “There’s a War Going On” at Wood­stock 94, above. How do the self-appoint­ed guardians of infor­ma­tion know what’s real­ly going on? Tele­vi­sion spreads igno­rance and mis­in­for­ma­tion, as does radio and, of course, social media. This much we should know. But we’ve mis­in­ter­pret­ed “The Rev­o­lu­tion Will Not Be Tele­vised” if we think it’s real­ly about mass media, Scott-Heron always main­tained. Before we can engage mean­ing­ful­ly with cur­rent events, a rev­o­lu­tion­ary change must hap­pen from the inside out. No one’s broad­cast­ing the truths we first, most need to hear.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gil Scott-Heron, God­fa­ther of Rap, Rest in Peace

Nina Simone’s Live Per­for­mances of Her Poignant Civ­il Rights Protest Songs

How Nina Simone Became Hip Hop’s “Secret Weapon”: From Lau­ryn Hill to Jay Z and Kanye West

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

Saul Alinsky’s 13 Tried-and-True Rules for Creating Meaningful Social Change

Saul David Alin­sky died 36 years before the elec­tion of Barack Oba­ma and Hilary Clin­ton’s first attempt for the pres­i­den­cy. But many fever­ish screeds on social media, talk radio, and YouTube might have made one think he lurked behind these politi­cians like Rasputin. Spo­ken of by many on the right as a ser­vant of the dev­il, “Amer­i­can Joseph Goebbels,” and “dan­ger­ous har­bin­ger of insur­rec­tion,” Alin­sky devel­oped a rep­u­ta­tion for insid­i­ous­ness that may exceed his influ­ence, con­sid­er­able though it may be.

But lib­er­als and left­ists have no spe­cial pur­chase on Alinsky’s lega­cy. As one thought­ful, elo­quent pun­dit recent­ly wrote, “the Right has tak­en Saul Alinsky’s Rules for Rad­i­cals and shoved it up where #TheRe­sis­tance don’t shine.” Not long before this charm­ing appro­pri­a­tion, Alinsky’s 1971 man­u­al of polit­i­cal war­fare found its way into the hands of some of the same Tea Par­ty orga­niz­ers who had made his name syn­ony­mous with every­thing they despised about the left. (See Alin­sky court his Lucifer­ian com­par­isons in the 1966 inter­view above.)

But Alin­sky wrote Rules for Rad­i­cals for his demo­graph­ic. From the 30s to the 70s, he orga­nized poor, work­ing peo­ple in Chica­go and oth­er cities and addressed coun­ter­cul­tur­al and civ­il rights activists nation­wide. The open­ing para­graph of the book makes it per­fect­ly clear who his read­ers are:

What fol­lows is for those who want to change the world from what it is to what they believe it should be. The Prince was writ­ten by Machi­avel­li for the Haves on how to hold pow­er. Rules for Rad­i­cals is writ­ten for the Have-Nots on how to take it away.

Alin­sky’s ref­er­ence to Machi­avel­li sets read­ers up for a high degree of ruth­less­ness and realpoli­tik, and the book does not dis­ap­point. If you’re look­ing for Anar­chist Cook­book-lev­el rad­i­cal­ism, you’d best look else­where. While Alin­sky talked tough, in an hon­est Chica­go way, he did not rec­om­mend vio­lence in his man­u­al. In the Pro­logue, he denounces “parts of the far left who have gone so far in the polit­i­cal cir­cle that they are now all but indis­tin­guish­able from the extreme right.” In recent rev­o­lu­tion­ary vio­lence, he writes, “we are deal­ing with peo­ple who are mere­ly hid­ing psy­chosis behind a polit­i­cal mask.”

Rules for Rad­i­cals rec­om­mends most­ly work­ing with­in the system—though in the twist­ed way Machi­avel­li is reput­ed to have done (whether or not he’s been inter­pret­ed fair­ly). Below, you’ll find Alinsky’s list of 13 “Rules for Rad­i­cals,” offered with his pro­vi­so that polit­i­cal activism can­not be a self-serv­ing enter­prise: “Peo­ple can­not be free unless they are will­ing to sac­ri­fice some of their inter­ests to guar­an­tee the free­dom of oth­ers. The price of democ­ra­cy is the ongo­ing pur­suit of the com­mon good by all of the peo­ple.”

1. “Pow­er is not only what you have, but what the ene­my thinks you have.” Pow­er is derived from 2 main sources – mon­ey and peo­ple. “Have-Nots” must build pow­er from flesh and blood.
2. “Nev­er go out­side the exper­tise of your peo­ple.” It results in con­fu­sion, fear and retreat. Feel­ing secure adds to the back­bone of any­one.
3. “When­ev­er pos­si­ble, go out­side the exper­tise of the ene­my.” Look for ways to increase inse­cu­ri­ty, anx­i­ety and uncer­tain­ty.
4. “Make the ene­my live up to its own book of rules.” If the rule is that every let­ter gets a reply, send 30,000 let­ters. You can kill them with this because no one can pos­si­bly obey all of their own rules.
5. “Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon.” There is no defense. It’s irra­tional. It’s infu­ri­at­ing. It also works as a key pres­sure point to force the ene­my into con­ces­sions.
6. “A good tac­tic is one your peo­ple enjoy.” They’ll keep doing it with­out urg­ing and come back to do more. They’re doing their thing, and will even sug­gest bet­ter ones.
7. “A tac­tic that drags on too long becomes a drag.” Don’t become old news.
8. “Keep the pres­sure on. Nev­er let up.” Keep try­ing new things to keep the oppo­si­tion off bal­ance. As the oppo­si­tion mas­ters one approach, hit them from the flank with some­thing new.
9. “The threat is usu­al­ly more ter­ri­fy­ing than the thing itself.” Imag­i­na­tion and ego can dream up many more con­se­quences than any activist.
10. “The major premise for tac­tics is the devel­op­ment of oper­a­tions that will main­tain a con­stant pres­sure upon the oppo­si­tion.” It is this unceas­ing pres­sure that results in the reac­tions from the oppo­si­tion that are essen­tial for the suc­cess of the cam­paign.
11. “If you push a neg­a­tive hard enough, it will push through and become a pos­i­tive.” Vio­lence from the oth­er side can win the pub­lic to your side because the pub­lic sym­pa­thizes with the under­dog.
12. “The price of a suc­cess­ful attack is a con­struc­tive alter­na­tive.” Nev­er let the ene­my score points because you’re caught with­out a solu­tion to the prob­lem.
13. “Pick the tar­get, freeze it, per­son­al­ize it, and polar­ize it.” Cut off the sup­port net­work and iso­late the tar­get from sym­pa­thy. Go after peo­ple and not insti­tu­tions; peo­ple hurt faster than insti­tu­tions.

Alinsky’s rules can and have been used for anti-demo­c­ra­t­ic designs. But he defines the U.S. as a “soci­ety pred­i­cat­ed on vol­un­tarism.” His vision of democ­ra­cy leans heav­i­ly on that of keen out­side observ­er of ear­ly Amer­i­ca, Alex­is de Toc­queville, the French philoso­pher who “grave­ly warned,” writes Alin­sky, “that unless indi­vid­ual cit­i­zens were reg­u­lar­ly involved in the action of gov­ern­ing them­selves, self-gov­ern­ment would pass from the scene.”

Note: This post orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site in 2017. In this moment of protest, we’re bring­ing it back.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Noam Chom­sky Explains the Best Way for Ordi­nary Peo­ple to Make Change in the World, Even When It Seems Daunt­ing

Read the CIA’s Sim­ple Sab­o­tage Field Man­u­al: A Time­less Guide to Sub­vert­ing Any Orga­ni­za­tion with “Pur­pose­ful Stu­pid­i­ty” (1944)

David Byrne Curates a Playlist of Great Protest Songs Writ­ten Over the Past 60 Years: Stream Them Online

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

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Take Hannah Arendt’s Final Exam for Her 1961 Course “On Revolution”

After her analy­sis of total­i­tar­i­an­ism in Nazi Ger­many and Stalin’s Sovi­et Union, Han­nah Arendt turned her schol­ar­ly atten­tion to the sub­ject of revolution—namely, to the French and Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tions. How­ev­er, the first chap­ter of her 1963 book On Rev­o­lu­tion opens with a para­phrase of Lenin about her own time: “Wars and rev­o­lu­tions… have thus far deter­mined the phys­iog­no­my of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry.”

Arendt wrote the book on the thresh­old of many wars and rev­o­lu­tions yet to come, but she was not par­tic­u­lar­ly sym­pa­thet­ic to the left­ist turn of the 1960s. On Rev­o­lu­tion favors the Amer­i­can Colonists over the French Sans Culottes and Jacobins. The book is in part an intel­lec­tu­al con­tri­bu­tion to anti-Com­mu­nism, one of many ide­olo­gies, Arendt writes, that “have lost con­tact with the major real­i­ties of our world”?

What are those real­i­ties? “War and rev­o­lu­tion,” she argues, “have out­lived all their ide­o­log­i­cal jus­ti­fi­ca­tions… no cause is left but the most ancient of all, the one, in fact, that from the begin­ning of our his­to­ry has deter­mined the very exis­tence of pol­i­tics, the cause of free­dom ver­sus tyran­ny.” This sounds like pam­phle­teer­ing, but Arendt did not use such abstrac­tions light­ly. As one of the fore­most schol­ars of ancient Greek and mod­ern Euro­pean phi­los­o­phy, she was emi­nent­ly qual­i­fied to define her terms.

Her stu­dents, on the oth­er hand, might have strug­gled with such weighty con­cepts as “rev­o­lu­tion,” “rights, “free­dom,” etc. which can so eas­i­ly become mean­ing­less slo­gans with­out sub­stan­tive elab­o­ra­tion and “con­tact with real­i­ty.” Arendt was a thor­ough teacher. Once her stu­dents left her class, they sure­ly had a bet­ter grasp on the intel­lec­tu­al his­to­ry of lib­er­al democ­ra­cy. Such under­stand­ing con­sti­tut­ed Arendt’s life’s work, and it was through teach­ing that she devel­oped and refined the ideas that became On Rev­o­lu­tion.

Arendt began research for the book at Prince­ton, where she was appoint­ed the first woman to serve as a full pro­fes­sor in 1953. Through­out the 50s and ear­ly 60s, she taught at Berke­ley, Colum­bia, Cor­nell, the Uni­ver­si­ty of Chica­go, and North­west­ern before join­ing the fac­ul­ty of the New School. In 1961, she taught a North­west­ern sem­i­nar called “On Rev­o­lu­tion.” Just above, you can see the course’s final exam. (View it in a larg­er for­mat here.) If you’re won­der­ing why she gave the test in March, per­haps it’s because the fol­low­ing month, she board­ed a plane to cov­er the Adolf Eich­mann tri­al for The New York­er.

What did Arendt want to make sure that her stu­dents under­stood before she left? See a tran­scrip­tion of the exam ques­tions below. We see the two poles of her lat­er argu­ment com­ing into focus, the French and the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion­ary ideas. The lat­ter exam­ple has been seen by many crit­i­cal philoso­phers as hard­ly rev­o­lu­tion­ary at all, giv­en that it was pri­mar­i­ly waged in the inter­ests of mer­chants and slave-own­ing plan­ta­tion own­ers. It was, as one his­to­ri­an puts it, “a rev­o­lu­tion in favor of gov­ern­ment.”

This crit­i­cism is like­ly the basis of Arendt’s final ques­tion on the test. But in her eru­dite argu­ment, the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion is foun­da­tion­al to use of “rev­o­lu­tion” as a polit­i­cal term of art. As Arendt writes in a late 60s lec­ture, re-dis­cov­ered in 2017, “pri­or to the two great rev­o­lu­tions at the end of the 18th cen­tu­ry and the spe­cif­ic sense it then acquired, the word ‘rev­o­lu­tion’ was hard­ly promi­nent in the vocab­u­lary of polit­i­cal thought or prac­tice.” Rather, it main­ly had astro­log­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance.

Arendt saw all sub­se­quent world rev­o­lu­tions as par­tak­ing of the twinned log­ics of the 18th cen­tu­ry. “Its polit­i­cal usage was metaphor­i­cal,” she says, “describ­ing a move­ment back into some pre-estab­lished point, and hence a motion, a swing­ing back to a pre-ordained order.” Gen­er­al­ly, that order has been pre-ordained by the rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies them­selves. See if your under­stand­ing of rev­o­lu­tion­ary his­to­ry is up to Arendt’s ped­a­gog­i­cal stan­dards, below, and get a more com­pre­hen­sive his­to­ry of rev­o­lu­tion from the read­ings on recent course syl­labus­es here, here, and here.

 

Answer at least five of the fol­low­ing ques­tions:

  1. What is the ori­gin of the word “rev­o­lu­tion”?

How was the word orig­i­nal­ly used in polit­i­cal lan­guage?

  1. Iden­ti­fy the fol­low­ing dates:

The 14th of July

The 9th of Ther­mi­dore

The 18th of Bru­maire

  1. Who wrote The Rights of Man?

Who wrote Reflec­tions on the French Rev­o­lu­tion?

What was the con­nec­tion between the two books?

  1. Who was Creve­coeur? Give title of his book.
  2. Enu­mer­ate some authors and books that played a role in the rev­o­lu­tions?
  3. What is the dif­fer­ence between abso­lutism and a “lim­it­ed monar­chy”?
  4. Who is the author of The Spir­it of the Laws?
  5. Which author had the great­est influ­ence on the men of the French Rev­o­lu­tion?
  6. What is meant by the phrase “state of nature”?
  7. The fol­low­ing words are of Greek ori­gin; give their Eng­lish equiv­a­lent: monarchy—oligarchy—aristocracy—democracy.

Write a short essay of no more than four pages on one of the fol­low­ing top­ics:

  1. It is a main the­sis of R.R. Palmer’s The Age of the Demo­c­ra­t­ic Rev­o­lu­tion that “the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion was an event with­in an Atlantic civ­i­liza­tion as a whole.” Explain and dis­cuss.

  2. Clin­ton Rossiter asserts that “America’s debt to the idea of social con­tract is so huge as to defy mea­sure­ment.” Explain and dis­cuss.

  3. Dif­fer­ences and sim­i­lar­i­ties between the Amer­i­can and the French Rev­o­lu­tion.

  4. Con­nect on pos­si­ble mean­ings of the phrase: Pur­suit of hap­pi­ness.

  5. Describe Melville’s atti­tude to the French Rev­o­lu­tion in Bil­ly Budd.

  6. The Amer­i­can Revolution—was there any?

via Saman­tha Hill

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Han­nah Arendt Explains How Pro­pa­gan­da Uses Lies to Erode All Truth & Moral­i­ty: Insights from The Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism

Han­nah Arendt Explains Why Democ­ra­cies Need to Safe­guard the Free Press & Truth … to Defend Them­selves Against Dic­ta­tors and Their Lies

Large Archive of Han­nah Arendt’s Papers Dig­i­tized by the Library of Con­gress: Read Her Lec­tures, Drafts of Arti­cles, Notes & Cor­re­spon­dence

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

Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #40 on #MeToo Depictions in TV and Film


These sto­ries are all heav­i­ly watched, which means they’re enter­tain­ing: The 2019 film Bomb­shell (about the pre­da­tions of Roger Ailes), Apple TV’s The Morn­ing Show (about a dis­graced anchor), and Net­flix’s Unbe­liev­able (about report­ing rape) and 13 Rea­sons Why (about teen sui­cide result­ing from sex­u­al assault). But what’s “enter­tain­ing” about sex­u­al assault and harass­ment? What makes for a sen­si­tive as opposed to a sen­sa­tion­al­ized por­tray­al?

Eri­ca, Mark, and Bri­an con­sid­er which sto­ries work and why. How much diver­gence from true events is allow­able in Bomb­shell or Con­fir­ma­tion (about Ani­ta Hill)? By hav­ing char­ac­ters inter­pret their sit­u­a­tions (Eri­ca gives an exam­ple from the show Sex Edu­ca­tion), are writ­ers essen­tial­ly telling audi­ences how to feel about their own expe­ri­ences? Should cer­tain depic­tions be ruled out as poten­tial­ly trig­ger­ing, or is it good to “bring to light” what­ev­er ter­ri­ble things actu­al­ly hap­pen in the world? Should shows delve into the psy­chol­o­gy of the per­pe­tra­tor (maybe even treat­ing him as a pro­tag­o­nist), or must the mes­sage be whol­ly and unam­bigu­ous­ly about the vic­tim? 

Art is about risk-tak­ing and cap­tur­ing dif­fi­cult ambi­gu­i­ties; this does­n’t sound much like a pub­lic ser­vice mes­sage. So what respon­si­bil­i­ty to do show cre­ators have to con­sult pro­fes­sion­als about how to present dif­fi­cult top­ics like this?

We drew on some arti­cles to help us look at these ques­tions:

Here’s that weird scene where Jen­nifer Anis­ton and Bil­ly Crudup sing on The Morn­ing Show.

If this top­ic is too depress­ing, check out our episode #39 from last week about what to watch on TV dur­ing quar­an­tine:

Learn more at prettymuchpop.com. This episode includes bonus dis­cus­sion that you can only hear by sup­port­ing the pod­cast at patreon.com/prettymuchpop. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts or start with the first episode.

Bernie Sanders Time as an Educational Filmmaker: Watch His Documentary on Socialist Activist Eugene V. Debs (1979)

If you grew up in the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca, you’ll remem­ber the name Eugene V. Debs from his­to­ry class. And if you grew up dur­ing a cer­tain era in the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca, you might have learned about Debs from Bernie Sanders. Try to recall one of Debs’ speech­es; if you hear it in Sanders’ dis­tinc­tive Brook­lyn accent, you have at some point or anoth­er seen Eugene V. Debs: Trade Union­ist, Social­ist, Rev­o­lu­tion­ary. A film-strip slideshow with an accom­pa­ny­ing audio track, it came out in 1979 as a prod­uct of the Amer­i­can People’s His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety, Sanders’ own pro­duc­tion com­pa­ny.

That ven­ture con­sti­tutes just one chap­ter of a sto­ried life and career, which includes peri­ods as a high-school track star, a folk singer, and the may­or of Burling­ton, Ver­mont. Now that Sanders, junior Unit­ed States Sen­a­tor from Ver­mont since 2007, has pulled ahead in the race for the Demo­c­ra­t­ic nom­i­na­tion in the 2020 pres­i­den­tial elec­tion, peo­ple want to know what he’s all about — and he has long been giv­en, cer­tain­ly by the stan­dards of U.S. politi­cians, to clear and fre­quent expres­sion of what he’s all about. He has made no secret, for exam­ple, of his admi­ra­tion for Debs, a social­ist polit­i­cal activist who five times ran for Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States. You can see it come through in Eugene V. Debs: Trade Union­ist, Social­ist, Rev­o­lu­tion­ary, which Jacobin mag­a­zine has recon­struct­ed and made avail­able on Youtube.

Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Nathan Smith writes that the doc­u­men­tary frames Debs “as a lost prophet before explain­ing how he end­ed up where he did ide­o­log­i­cal­ly. It opens with Debs’s final pres­i­den­tial cam­paign, con­duct­ed in 1920 from prison. If a mil­lion peo­ple vot­ed for this man while he was behind bars, if more peo­ple went to hear him speak than Pres­i­dent Taft, then how could his­to­ry have for­got­ten him?” Sanders explains Debs’ social­ism “as a response to issues which still res­onate today: the exploita­tion of work­ing peo­ple, seg­re­ga­tion and vio­lent racism, vot­ing rights, and the sup­pres­sion of free speech and dis­sent dur­ing World War I.” More so than see Sanders’ admi­ra­tion for Debs — Jacobin hav­ing had to use visu­als oth­er than the ones on the film strip at the time — you can hear it: as in all the shoe­string pro­duc­tions of the Amer­i­can People’s His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety’s shoe­string pro­duc­tions, Sanders him­self plays the roles of the his­tor­i­cal char­ac­ters involved.

In this case, that means we hear Sanders give Debs’ speech­es, and in cer­tain moments we view­ers of 2020 could eas­i­ly mis­take Debs’ indict­ments of the dis­tri­b­u­tion of wealth, goods, and the means of pro­duc­tion in Amer­i­ca as Sanders’ own. A self-described social­ist, Sanders has in his polit­i­cal career placed him­self in Debs’ tra­di­tion, and hav­ing made a doc­u­men­tary like this more than 40 years ago shores up that image. The Wash­ing­ton Post’s Philip Bump points out that, before becom­ing a U.S. sen­a­tor, Sanders did a cou­ple more act­ing jobs in fea­ture films, once as a man stingy with Hal­loween can­dy and once as a Dodgers-obsessed rab­bi. As much as those roles might have suit­ed his demeanor, it’s safe to say he played Eugene V. Debs with more con­vic­tion.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bernie Sanders: I Will Be an Arts Pres­i­dent

Spike Lee Inter­views Bernie Sanders: Two Guys from Brook­lyn Talk About Edu­ca­tion, Inequal­i­ty & More

Bernie Sanders Sings “This Land is Your Land” on the Endear­ing­ly Bad Spo­ken Word Album, We Shall Over­come

Allen Ginsberg’s Hand­writ­ten Poem For Bernie Sanders, “Burling­ton Snow” (1986)

Albert Ein­stein Writes the 1949 Essay “Why Social­ism?” and Attempts to Find a Solu­tion to the “Grave Evils of Cap­i­tal­ism”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Bertrand Russell’s Prison Letters Are Now Digitized & Put Online (1918 — 1961)

Boethius, Hen­ry David Thore­au, Anto­nio Gram­sci, Mar­tin Luther King, Jr…. It’s pos­si­ble, if one tried, to draw oth­er com­par­isons between these dis­parate fig­ures, but read­ers famil­iar with the work of all four will imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nize their most obvi­ous lit­er­ary com­mon­al­i­ty: all wrote some of their most impas­sioned and per­sua­sive work while unjust­ly con­fined to a cell.

In the case of Bertrand Rus­sell, how­ev­er, per­haps one of the most famous fig­ures in 20th cen­tu­ry phi­los­o­phy and intel­lec­tu­al life more gen­er­al­ly, peri­ods of incar­cer­a­tion in Brix­ton prison in 1918 and, forty-three years lat­er, in 1961, play a min­i­mal role in the larg­er dra­ma of his writ­ing life, despite the fact that he did a good deal of writ­ing, includ­ing some sig­nif­i­cant philo­soph­i­cal work, behind bars.

Even schol­ars well-read in Russell’s work may have lit­tle knowl­edge of his prison writ­ing, and for good rea­son: most of it has been inac­ces­si­ble. “Now, for the first time,” writes Eri­ca Balch at McMas­ter University’s Brighter World blog, “Russell’s prison letters—part of McMaster’s Bertrand Rus­sell Archives—are being made avail­able online through a new dig­i­ti­za­tion project devel­oped by the Bertrand Rus­sell Research Cen­tre. Com­plete with detailed anno­ta­tions and ful­ly search­able text, the project is pro­vid­ing schol­ars from around the world with access to these rarely seen mate­ri­als.”

The con­tents of the let­ters reveal oth­er rea­sons that Russell’s prison writ­ing isn’t bet­ter known. He did plen­ty of impas­sioned and per­sua­sive writ­ing for the pub­lic out­side of a prison cell—publishing fiery books, essays, and lec­tures against war and pro­pa­gan­da and in defense of free thought through­out his life. Behind bars, how­ev­er, Russell’s writ­ing turned almost sole­ly pro­fes­sion­al and per­son­al, in let­ters addressed pri­mar­i­ly to “his then lover Lady Con­stance Malle­son (known as ‘Colette’) and his for­mer lover, aris­to­crat and socialite Lady Otto­line Mor­rell.”

The 105 let­ters “reveal the pri­vate thoughts of one of the 20th century’s most pub­lic fig­ures and pro­vide an inter­est­ing win­dow on Russell’s inner life,” says Andrew Bone, Senior Research Asso­ciate at McMaster’s Bertrand Rus­sell Research Cen­tre.  Most of the let­ters “were writ­ten in secret,” Balch notes, “and smug­gled out of Brix­ton by Russell’s friends, con­cealed between the uncut pages of books.” Rus­sell was only allowed one let­ter per week; offi­cial­ly sanc­tioned cor­re­spon­dence is writ­ten on prison sta­tion­ary and bears the Brix­ton governor’s ini­tials.

A life­long paci­fist, Rus­sell was first jailed for six months in 1918 for a speech oppos­ing U.S. entry into World War I. “I found prison in many ways quite agree­able,” he lat­er wrote in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy. “I had no engage­ments, no dif­fi­cult deci­sions to make, no fear of callers, no inter­rup­tions to my work. I read enor­mous­ly; I wrote a book, ‘Intro­duc­tion to Math­e­mat­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy’… and began the work for ‘Analy­sis of Mind,’” a project that nev­er reached fruition. In 1961, at age 89, he was jailed for sev­en days for par­tic­i­pat­ing in a Lon­don anti-nuclear demon­stra­tion.

Dur­ing his first stay as a pris­on­er of Brixton’s “first divi­sion,” Rus­sell was “allowed to fur­nish his cell, wear civil­ian clothes, pur­chase catered food, and most impor­tant­ly, be exempt­ed from prison work while he pur­sued his pro­fes­sion as an author,” as the Bertrand Rus­sell Research Cen­tre points out. It’s lit­tle won­der he looked for­ward to the expe­ri­ence as a “hol­i­day from respon­si­bil­i­ty,” he wrote in a let­ter to his broth­er, Frank, four days after he began his sen­tence.

Rus­sell may not have suffered—or acquired a height­ened sense of polit­i­cal urgency—while behind bars (at one point he was heard laugh­ing out loud and had to be remind­ed by the war­den that “prison is a place of pun­ish­ment”). But his prison let­ters offer sig­nif­i­cant insight into not only the deeply emo­tion­al rela­tion­ships he had with Malle­son and Mor­rell, but also his rela­tion­ship with oth­er mem­bers of the famous Blooms­bury group and “lit­er­ary celebri­ties such as D.H. Lawrence, and T.S. Eliot,” writes Balch, “many of whom are ref­er­enced in the let­ters.”

The 104 let­ters from 1918, includ­ing Russell’s cor­re­spon­dence with his broth­er, his pub­lish­er, The Nation mag­a­zine and oth­ers, are all avail­able in orig­i­nal scans with tran­scrip­tions and anno­ta­tions at the McMas­ter Uni­ver­si­ty Bertrand Rus­sell Research Cen­tre site. The final let­ter, num­ber 105, the sole piece of cor­re­spon­dence from Russell’s week­long stay in Brix­ton in 1961, is addressed to his wife Edith.

My Dar­ling,

The lawyer’s nice young man brought me cheer­ing news of you and told me I could write to you, which I had not known. Every one here treats me kind­ly and the only thing I mind is being away from you. At all odd min­utes I have the illu­sion that you are there, and for­get that if I sneeze it won’t dis­turb you. I am enjoy­ing Madame de Staël immense­ly, hav­ing at last got round to read­ing her. At odd moments I argue the­ol­o­gy with the chap­lain and med­i­cine with the Doc­tor, and so the time pass­es eas­i­ly. But sep­a­ra­tion from you is quite hor­rid, Dear­est Love, it will be heav­en­ly when we are togeth­er again. Take care of your­self, Beloved.

B.

As in most of the ear­li­er let­ters, Rus­sell avoids pol­i­tics and keeps things per­son­al. But as in near­ly all of his writ­ing, the prose is live­ly, evoca­tive, and poignant, reveal­ing much about the per­son­al­i­ty behind it. While these let­ters may nev­er achieve the sta­tus of great lit­er­a­ture, by virtue of their pri­vate nature and their minor role in Russell’s major canon, that does not mean they aren’t a joy to read, for stu­dents of Bertrand Rus­sell and any­one else who appre­ci­ates the work­ings of a bril­liant philo­soph­i­cal and eth­i­cal mind. Enter the Brix­ton Let­ter archive here.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Bertrand Russell’s Advice For How (Not) to Grow Old: “Make Your Inter­ests Grad­u­al­ly Wider and More Imper­son­al”

Bertrand Rus­sell Author­i­ty and the Indi­vid­ual (1948) 

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

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