Rebecca Solnit Picks 13 Songs That Will Remind Us of Our Power to Change the World, Even in Seemingly Dark Times

Image by Shawn, via Flickr Com­mons

Apoc­a­lypses have always been pop­u­lar as mass belief and enter­tain­ment. Maybe it’s a col­lec­tive desire for ret­ri­bu­tion or redemp­tion, or a kind of ver­ti­go humans expe­ri­ence when star­ing into the abyss of the unknown. Bet­ter to end it all than live in neu­rot­ic uncer­tain­ty. Maybe we find it impos­si­ble to think of a future world exist­ing hun­dreds, thou­sands, mil­lions of years after our deaths. As Rebec­ca Sol­nit observes in Hope in the Dark: Untold His­to­ries, Wild Pos­si­bil­i­ties, “peo­ple have always been good at imag­in­ing the end of the world, which is much eas­i­er to pic­ture than the strange side­long paths of change in a world with­out end.” What if the world nev­er ends, but goes on for­ev­er, chang­ing and evolv­ing in unimag­in­able ways?

This is the baili­wick of sci­ence fic­tion, but also the domain of his­to­ry, a hind­sight view of cen­turies past when wars, tyran­ni­cal con­quests, famines, and dis­eases near­ly wiped out entire populations—when it seemed to them a near cer­tain­ty that noth­ing would or could sur­vive the present hor­ror. And yet it did.

This may be no con­so­la­tion to the vic­tims of vio­lence and plague, but the world has gone on for the liv­ing, peo­ple have adapt­ed and sur­vived, even under the cur­rent, very real threats of nuclear war and cat­a­stroph­ic cli­mate change. And through­out his­to­ry, both small and large groups of peo­ple have changed the world for the bet­ter, though it hard­ly seemed pos­si­ble at the time. Sol­nit’s book chron­i­cles these his­to­ries, and last year, she released a playlist as a com­pan­ion for the book.

Hope in the Dark makes good on its title through a col­lec­tion of essays about “every­thing,” writes Alice Gre­go­ry at The New York Times, “from the Zap­atis­tas to weath­er fore­cast­ing to the fall of the Berlin Wall.” The book is “part his­to­ry of pro­gres­sive suc­cess sto­ries, part extend­ed argu­ment for hope as a cat­a­lyst for action.” Sol­nit wrote the book in 2004, dur­ing the reelec­tion of George W. Bush—a time when pro­gres­sives despaired of ever see­ing the end of chick­en­hawk sabre-rat­tling, wars for prof­it, pri­va­ti­za­tion of the pub­lic sphere, envi­ron­men­tal degra­da­tion, theo­crat­ic polit­i­cal projects, cur­tail­ing of civ­il rights, or the dis­as­ter cap­i­tal­ism the admin­is­tra­tion whole­heart­ed­ly embraced (as Nao­mi Klein’s The Shock Doc­trine detailed). Plus ça change.…

In March of last year, Hay­mar­ket Books reis­sued Hope in the Dark, and on Novem­ber 10th, Sol­nit post­ed a link to a free down­load of the book on Face­book. It was down­loaded over 30,000 times in one week. Along with oth­er pro­gres­sive intel­lec­tu­als like Klein and Richard Rorty, Solnit—who became inter­na­tion­al­ly known for the term “mansplain­ing” in her essay, then book, Men Explain Things to Me—has now been cast as a “Cas­san­dra fig­ure of the left,” Gre­go­ry writes. But she rejects the dis­as­trous futil­i­ty inher­ent in that anal­o­gy:

If you think of a kind of ecol­o­gy of ideas, there are more than enough peo­ple telling us how hor­rif­ic and ter­ri­ble and bad every­thing is, and I don’t real­ly need to join that project. There’s a whole oth­er project of try­ing to coun­ter­bal­ance that — some­times we do win and this is how it worked in the past. Change is often unpre­dictable and indi­rect. We don’t know the future. We’ve changed the world many times, and remem­ber­ing that, that his­to­ry, is real­ly a source of pow­er to con­tin­ue and it doesn’t get talked about near­ly enough.

If we don’t hear enough talk about hope, maybe we need to hear more hope­ful music, Sol­nit sug­gests in her Hope in the Dark playlist. Thir­teen songs long, it moves between Bey­on­cé and The Clash, Iggy Pop and Ste­vie Nicks, Black Flag and Big Free­dia.

While the selec­tions speak for them­selves, she offers brief com­men­tary on each of her choic­es in a post at Powell’s. Beyoncé’s “For­ma­tion,” Sol­nit writes, “refor­mu­lates, dig­ging deep into the past of sor­row and suf­fer­ing and injus­tice and pulling us all with her into a future that could be dif­fer­ent.” Pat­ti Smith’s anthem “Peo­ple Have the Pow­er” feels like hope, Sol­nit says: “it’s right about the pow­er we have, which oblig­es us to act, and which many duck by pre­tend­ing we’re help­less.” Maybe that’s what apoc­a­lypses are all about—making us feel small and pow­er­less in the face of impend­ing doom. But there are oth­er kinds of reli­gion, like that of Lee Williams’ “Steal My Joy.” It’s a “gor­geous gospel song,” writes Sol­nit. “Joys­teal­ers are every­where. Nev­er sur­ren­der to them.” That sounds like an ide­al exhor­ta­tion to imag­ine and fight for a bet­ter future.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

89 Essen­tial Songs from The Sum­mer of Love: A 50th Anniver­sary Playlist

The His­to­ry of Punk Rock in 200 Tracks: An 11-Hour Playlist Takes You From 1965 to 2016

Langston Hugh­es Cre­ates a List of His 100 Favorite Jazz Record­ings: Hear 80+ of Them in a Big Playlist

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

Bertrand Russell Reveals the 4 Human Desires That Make Our World: Acquisitiveness, Rivalry, Vanity & Love of Power

Con­trary to Aris­to­tle, the emi­nent logi­cian, philoso­pher, and activist Bertrand Rus­sell believed that virtue and moral­i­ty play lit­tle part in polit­i­cal life. Rather, what most dri­ves us to action, he argued, is self­ish desire. Rus­sel­l’s polit­i­cal phi­los­o­phy could seem almost Machi­avel­lian, most notably in his Nobel Prize speech 1950, in which he pro­claims that “all human activ­i­ty is prompt­ed by desire.” (Hear Rus­sell read an excerpt above.)

There is a whol­ly fal­la­cious the­o­ry advanced by some earnest moral­ists to the effect that it is pos­si­ble to resist desire in the inter­ests of duty and moral prin­ci­ple. I say this is fal­la­cious, not because no man ever acts from a sense of duty, but because duty has no hold on him unless he desires to be duti­ful. If you wish to know what men will do, you must know not only, or prin­ci­pal­ly, their mate­r­i­al cir­cum­stances, but rather the whole sys­tem of their desires with their rel­a­tive strengths.

Russell’s argu­ment about desire admits “there is no lim­it to the efforts that men will make, or to the vio­lence that they will dis­play” in the face of per­ceived scarci­ty, and his obser­va­tions recall not only the realpoli­tik of Machi­avel­li, but the insights of that most promi­nent the­o­rist of desire, Sig­mund Freud.

Man dif­fers from oth­er ani­mals in one very impor­tant respect, and that is that he has some desires which are, so to speak, infi­nite, which can nev­er be ful­ly grat­i­fied, and which would keep him rest­less even in Par­adise. The boa con­stric­tor, when he has had an ade­quate meal, goes to sleep, and does not wake until he needs anoth­er meal. Human beings, for the most part, are not like this. 

Rather than libidi­nous instincts, how­ev­er, Rus­sell names four main polit­i­cal desires that can­not be sat­is­fied: Acquis­i­tive­ness (“the wish to pos­sess as much as pos­si­ble), Rival­ry (“a much stronger motive”), Van­i­ty (“a motive of immense poten­cy”), and Love of Pow­er (“which out­weighs them all”). We may note the tremen­dous degree to which all four desires seem active­ly at work in shap­ing our cur­rent world. All four of these qual­i­ties greet us every morn­ing on our smart­phones and nev­er let up, day after day. But it has always been so to one degree or anoth­er, Rus­sell argues. The impor­tant thing is to be clear­sight­ed on the mat­ter. Although self­ish polit­i­cal desires can and large­ly are destruc­tive, they need not always be so.

Polit­i­cal desires like the love of pow­er may “have oth­er sides which are more desir­able.” Schol­ar­ly and sci­en­tif­ic endeav­ors may be “main­ly actu­at­ed by a love of pow­er.…. In pol­i­tics, also, a reformer may have just as strong a love of pow­er as a despot. It would be a com­plete mis­take to decry love of pow­er alto­geth­er as a motive.” “Rus­sell,” writes Maria Popo­va, is “a thinker of excep­tion­al sen­si­tiv­i­ty to nuance and to the dual­i­ties of which life is woven.” He cau­tions that we can­not sim­ply dis­miss our most pow­er­ful motive as “a whole­sale neg­a­tive dri­ver.”

The real prob­lem, as Rus­sell sees it, lies in “cir­cum­stances in which pop­u­la­tions will fall below self­ish­ness, if self­ish­ness is inter­pret­ed as enlight­ened self-inter­est.” The phe­nom­e­non we observe of peo­ple “vot­ing against their inter­ests” is for Rus­sell an occa­sion “on which they are con­vinced that they are act­ing from ide­al­is­tic motives.”

Much that pass­es as ide­al­ism is dis­guised hatred or dis­guised love of pow­er. When you see large mass­es of men swayed by what appear to be noble motives, it is as well to look below the sur­face and ask your­self what it is that makes these motives effec­tive. It is part­ly because it is so easy to be tak­en in by a facade of nobil­i­ty that a psy­cho­log­i­cal inquiry, such as I have been attempt­ing, is worth mak­ing.

Rather than virtue or moral­i­ty, pol­i­tics most requires “intel­li­gence,” Rus­sell con­cludes, “a thing that can be fos­tered by known meth­ods of edu­ca­tion.” These are not the forms of edu­ca­tion we gen­er­al­ly receive: “Schools are out to teach patri­o­tism,” he says, “news­pa­pers are out to stir up excite­ment; and politi­cians are out to get re-elect­ed. None of the three, there­fore, can do any­thing towards sav­ing the human race from rec­i­p­ro­cal sui­cide.”

The Cold War threat of nuclear anni­hi­la­tion hangs heavy over Russell’s speech. As long as humans are gripped by hatred and fear of oth­ers and held in thrall to polit­i­cal delu­sions, he sug­gests, the pos­si­bil­i­ty of mutu­al­ly assured destruc­tion remains. On the oth­er hand, if we were hon­est about our desires, and “if men were actu­at­ed by self-inter­est,” Rus­sell writes, “which they are not.… if men desired their own hap­pi­ness as ardent­ly as they desired the mis­ery of their neigh­bors.… the whole human race would coop­er­ate.” Read the full text of Rus­sel­l’s Nobel speech here.

via Brain­Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Polit­i­cal Sci­ence Cours­es

7 Nobel Speech­es by 7 Great Writ­ers: Hem­ing­way, Faulkn­er, and More

Bertrand Rus­sell & Buck­min­ster Fuller on Why We Should Work Less, and Live & Learn More

Bertrand Rus­sell: The Every­day Ben­e­fit of Phi­los­o­phy Is That It Helps You Live with Uncer­tain­ty

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

Senator Al Franken Does a Pitch Perfect Imitation of Mick Jagger (1982)

If Sen­a­tor Al Franken won’t run for Pres­i­dent in 2020, per­haps he’d tem­per fans’ dis­ap­point­ment with a repeat of his ear­ly 80’s turn as Mick Jag­ger, above.

The per­for­mance took place at Stock­ton State, a pub­lic uni­ver­si­ty con­ve­nient­ly locat­ed in New Jersey–what the late Tom Davis, Franken’s long time Sat­ur­day Night Live writ­ing part­ner and Kei­th Richards to his Jag­ger called “the Blair Witch scrub forests twen­ty-five miles north of Atlantic City.”

Franken’s per­for­mance is an immer­sive tri­umph, espe­cial­ly for those who remem­ber his best known SNL char­ac­ter, the lisp­ing­ly upbeat Stu­art Smal­l­ey.

His Jag­ger is the oppo­site of Stuart–butch, preen­ing, ath­let­ic … a less than sober stu­dent fan in the Stock­ton State crowd might have drunk­en­ly won­dered if he or she had acci­den­tal­ly bought tick­ets to the Tat­too You tour. Those lips are pret­ty con­vinc­ing.

The cos­tum­ing is dead on too, and Franken did not take the route Chris Far­ley would lat­er take, lam­poon­ing the male strip­pers of Chip­pen­dales. He may not be Jag­ger-rangy, but he’s cer­tain­ly fit in an out­fit that leaves no room to hide.

As Davis recalled in his 2010 mem­oir, Thir­ty-Nine Years of Short-Term Mem­o­ry Loss: The Ear­ly Days of SNL from Some­one Who Was There:

As we start­ed “Under My Thumb,” Franken came run­ning out as Mick Jag­ger, wear­ing yel­low foot­ball pants and Capezios and was so good, it was scary. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, Franken and Davis at Stock­ton State nev­er sold very well… maybe it would be re-released if one of us became pres­i­dent, or shot a pres­i­dent.

Know­ing that Davis, who died five years ago, would like­ly nev­er have pre­dict­ed the out­come of the recent elec­tion, and that Sen­a­tor Franken, out­spo­ken as he is, is in no posi­tion to joke about the sec­ond option, we sug­gest truf­fling up a used copy, if you’d like to see more.

And for comparison’s sake, here are the orig­i­nals per­form­ing to an are­na-sized crowd in Ari­zona in 1981:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mick Jag­ger Defends the Rights of the Indi­vid­ual After His Leg­endary 1967 Drug Bust

When Bowie & Jagger’s “Danc­ing in the Street” Music Video Becomes a Silent Film: Can the Worst Music Video Ever Get Even Worse?

When William S. Bur­roughs Appeared on Sat­ur­day Night Live: His First TV Appear­ance (1981)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Introducing the New PEN America Digital Archive: 1,500 Hours of Audio & Video Featuring 2,200 Eminent Writers

Image via Pen.Org

The recent­ly launched PEN Amer­i­ca Dig­i­tal Archive is an Aladdin’s cave of lit­er­ary trea­sures. An incred­i­ble amount of cul­tur­al pro­gram­ming has grown up around the orga­ni­za­tion’s com­mit­ment to cham­pi­oning writ­ers’ civ­il liberties–over 1,500 hours worth of audio and visu­al files.

Delve into this free, search­able archive for pre­vi­ous­ly inac­ces­si­ble lec­tures, read­ings, and dis­cus­sions fea­tur­ing the lead­ing writ­ers, intel­lec­tu­als, and artists of the last 50 years. Many of these New York City-based events were planned in response to the oppres­sion and hard­ship suf­fered by fel­low writ­ers around the world.

Feel­ing over­whelmed by this all-you-can-eat buf­fet for the mind? The archivists have your back with fea­tured col­lec­tions–an assort­ment of rau­cous, polit­i­cal con­ver­sa­tions from the 1986 PEN World Con­gress and a thir­ty year ret­ro­spec­tive of Toni Mor­ri­son.

We are lucky that Nobel Prize-win­ner Mor­ri­son, a vig­or­ous cul­tur­al observ­er and crit­ic, still walks among us. Also, that the archive affords us a chance to spend qual­i­ty time with so many great lit­er­ary emi­nences who no longer do:

John Stein­beck reads excerpts of The Grapes of Wrath and his short sto­ries, “The Snake,” “John­ny Bear,”  and “We’re Hold­ing Our Own.”

Jerzy Kosin­s­ki dis­cuss­es teach­ing, and the auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal ele­ments of his con­tro­ver­sial 1965 nov­el, The Paint­ed Bird.

Madeleine L’En­gle con­sid­ers myth, sci­ence, faith, and the con­nec­tion between art and fear.

Saul Bel­low tack­les how intel­lec­tu­als influ­ence and use tech­nol­o­gy, a par­tic­u­lar­ly inter­est­ing top­ic in light of the dystopi­an fiction’s cur­rent pop­u­lar­i­ty.

Nadine Gordimer relives the pub­li­ca­tion, ban­ning and swift unban­ning of her polit­i­cal his­tor­i­cal nov­el, Burg­er’s Daugh­ter.

Susan Son­tag uses a PEN Inter­na­tion­al Con­gress press con­fer­ence to draw atten­tion to ways in which the host coun­try, Korea, was falling short in regard to free­dom of expres­sion.

Gwen­dolyn Brooks reveals the back­sto­ry on her poems, includ­ing “The Lovers of the Poor,” and “We Real Cool.”

Begin your adven­tures in the PEN Amer­i­ca Dig­i­tal Archive here.

via Elec­tric Lit­er­a­ture

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Speech Bites: Nigel War­bur­ton, Host of Phi­los­o­phy Bites, Cre­ates a Spin Off Pod­cast Ded­i­cat­ed to Free­dom of Expres­sion

Great Writ­ers on Free Speech and the Envi­ron­ment

Penn Sound: Fan­tas­tic Audio Archive of Mod­ern & Con­tem­po­rary Poets

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Watch Iggy Pop & Debbie Harry Sing a Swelligant Version of Cole Porter’s “Did You Evah,” All to Raise Money for AIDS Research (1990)

Quick sur­vey: Who’s best fit to get at the heart of Cole Porter? The suave sophis­ti­cate who was born in a tux, mar­ti­ni glass clutched in his infant fist? Or punk roy­al­ty? “Well, Did You Evah!” from the 1939 Broad­way musi­cal DuBar­ry Was a Lady, is the brat­ti­er cousin of such Porter hits as “You’re the Top” and “Let’s Do It.” Frank Sina­tra and Bing Cros­by per­formed a boozy cov­er of it for the 1956 film High Soci­ety, but for my mon­ey, the defin­i­tive ver­sion is one Iggy Pop and Deb­bie Har­ry record­ed for a Cole Porter themed AIDS ben­e­fit album, Red Hot + Blue.

Some Porter clas­sics–“Every Time We Say Good­bye,” “So In Love”–demand sin­cer­i­ty. This one calls for a strong dose of the oppo­site, which Pop and Har­ry deliv­er, both vocal­ly and in the barn­storm­ing music video above. They’re dan­ger­ous, fun­ny, and any­thing but canned, weav­ing through rat-glam­my 1980s New York in thrift store fin­ery, with side trips to a ceme­tery and a farm where Pop smooches a goat.

As Alex Cox, who brought fur­ther punk pedi­gree to the project as the direc­tor of Sid and Nancy and Repo Man told Spin: “Iggy had always want­ed to make a video with ani­mals and Deb­bie had always want­ed to pub­licly burn lin­gerie so I let them.”

They also filled Pop’s palms with stig­ma­ta and ants, and swapped Porter’s cham­pagne for a case of gener­ic dog food.

There are a few minor tweaks to the lyrics (“What cocks!”) and the stars inject the pat­ter with a glee­ful­ly louche down­town sen­si­bil­i­ty. Mars ris­es behind the Twin Tow­ers, for a swelli­gant­ly off-beat pack­age that raised a lot of mon­ey for AIDS research and aware­ness. Oth­er gems from the project:

“It’s All Right with Me” per­formed by Tom Waits, direct­ed by Jim Jar­musch

“Night and Day” per­formed by U2, direct­ed by Wim Wen­ders

“Don’t Fence Me In” per­formed and direct­ed by David Byrne

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Iggy Pop Sings Edith Piaf’s “La Vie En Rose” in an Art­ful­ly Ani­mat­ed Video

Tom Waits For No One: Watch the Pio­neer­ing Ani­mat­ed Tom Waits Music Video from 1979

Talk­ing Heads Fea­tured on The South Bank Show in 1979: How the Ground­break­ing New Wave Band Made Nor­mal­i­ty Strange Again

Bill Mur­ray Reads Great Poet­ry by Bil­ly Collins, Cole Porter, and Sarah Man­gu­so

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Hunter S. Thompson Chillingly Predicts the Future, Telling Studs Terkel About the Coming Revenge of the Economically & Technologically “Obsolete” (1967)

Image  via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Half a cen­tu­ry ago, Hunter S. Thomp­son got his big jour­nal­is­tic break with a book called Hel­l’s Angels: The Strange and Ter­ri­ble Saga of the Out­law Motor­cy­cle Gangs. In it he pro­vid­ed a curi­ous and fear­ful pub­lic with a look into the inner work­ings of one of the most out­ward­ly men­ac­ing social move­ments of the day, based on knowl­edge gained not by mere­ly observ­ing the Hel­l’s Angels but by get­ting on a hog and spend­ing a year as a qua­si-mem­ber him­self. This gave him oppor­tu­ni­ty both to devel­op what would become his style of “gonzo jour­nal­ism” in the long form and to catch an ear­ly glimpse of big­ger trou­ble ahead in Amer­i­ca.

“To see the Hell’s Angels as care­tak­ers of the old ‘indi­vid­u­al­ist’ tra­di­tion ‘that made this coun­try great’ is only a pain­less way to get around see­ing them for what they real­ly are,” Thomp­son writes in that book, call­ing them “the first wave of a future that noth­ing in our his­to­ry has pre­pared us to cope with. The Angels are pro­to­types. Their lack of edu­ca­tion has not only ren­dered them com­plete­ly use­less in a high­ly tech­ni­cal econ­o­my, but it has also giv­en them the leisure to cul­ti­vate a pow­er­ful resent­ment… and to trans­late it into a destruc­tive cult which the mass media insists on por­tray­ing as a sort of iso­lat­ed odd­i­ty” des­tined for extinc­tion.

Studs Terkel, after read­ing that pas­sage out loud in a 1967 inter­view with Thomp­son (stream it online here), calls it “the key” to the entire book. “Here we have tech­nol­o­gy, we have the com­put­er, we have labor-sav­ing devices,” he says to Thomp­son, but we also “have the need for more and more col­lege edu­ca­tion for almost any kind of job, and we have this tremen­dous mass of young who find them­selves obso­lete.” But Thomp­son replies that the real con­se­quences have only start­ed to man­i­fest: “The peo­ple who are being left out and put behind won’t be obvi­ous for years. Christ only knows what’ll hap­pen in, say, 1985 — a mil­lion Hel­l’s Angels. They won’t be wear­ing the col­ors; they’ll be peo­ple who are just look­ing for vengeance because they’ve been left behind.”

The Angels, wrote Susan McWilliams in a much-cir­cu­lat­ed Nation piece late last year, “were clunky and out­classed and scorned, just like the Harley-David­sons they chose to dri­ve.” And “just as there was no ratio­nal way to defend Harleys against for­eign-made chop­pers, the Angels saw no ratio­nal grounds on which to defend their own skills or loy­al­ties against the emerg­ing new world order of the late 20th cen­tu­ry.” The result? An “eth­ic of total retal­i­a­tion. The Angels, rather than grace­ful­ly accept­ing their place as losers in an increas­ing­ly tech­ni­cal, intel­lec­tu­al, glob­al, inclu­sive, pro­gres­sive Amer­i­can soci­ety, stuck up their fin­gers at the whole enter­prise. If you can’t win, you can at least scare the bejeesus out of the guy wear­ing the medal.”

Six years lat­er, Terkel invit­ed Thomp­son back into his stu­dio for anoth­er inter­view (click here to lis­ten) that fol­lowed straight on from the first. Osten­si­bly there to talk about Thomp­son’s book Fear and Loathing on the Cam­paign Trail ’72 (which fol­lowed his best-known work, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas), the two, hav­ing cracked open a beer, get into what the Studs Terkel Radio Archive blog describes as “the sense of sur­re­al­ism in ‘real’ life,” which becomes “a very seri­ous con­ver­sa­tion about the direc­tion in which our coun­try was head­ing. After Thomp­son recount­ed his expe­ri­ence of talk­ing to Richard Nixon about foot­ball” — the only sub­ject per­mit­ted — “Studs responds, ‘Isn’t this what we’re faced with now? … That fan­ta­sy and fact become one.’ ”

What’s a reporter to do in such an envi­ron­ment? Terkel seems to see in Thomp­son the per­fect kind of “sub­jec­tive” jour­nal­ist, one “who can make lit­er­al what is psy­chic in our lives,” for a time that has lost its own objec­tiv­i­ty. “Has there ever been any such thing as objec­tive jour­nal­ism?” he asks. “It’s prob­a­bly the high­est kind of jour­nal­ism, if you can do it.” Thomp­son replies. “Nobody I know has ever done it, and I don’t have time to learn it.” But the dis­tinc­tive suite of jour­nal­is­tic skills he did pos­sess primed him to per­ceive cer­tain real­i­ties — and per­ceive them with a dis­tinc­tive vivid­ness — that have only become more real in the decades since. What, for instance, did he learn from cov­er­ing the 1972 pres­i­den­tial cam­paign? “Pow­er cor­rupts… but it’s also a fan­tas­tic high.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New Ani­ma­tion: Hunter S. Thomp­son Talks with Studs Terkel About the Hell’s Angels & The Out­law Life

Hunter S. Thomp­son Gets Con­front­ed by The Hell’s Angels: Where’s Our Two Kegs of Beer? (1967)

Hunter S. Thompson’s Con­spir­a­to­r­i­al 9/11 Inter­view: “The Pub­lic Ver­sion of the News is Nev­er Real­ly What Hap­pened”

Hunter S. Thomp­son Gets in a Gun­fight with His Neigh­bor & Dis­pens­es Polit­i­cal Wis­dom: “In a Democ­ra­cy, You Have to Be a Play­er”

Read 18 Lost Sto­ries From Hunter S. Thompson’s For­got­ten Stint As a For­eign Cor­re­spon­dent

Read 11 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, 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.

John Wayne Recites and Explains the Pledge of Allegiance (1972)

Back in 1972, John Wayne record­ed a spo­ken word album called Amer­i­ca, Why I Love Her, described as “a series of heart­felt, patri­ot­ic speech­es over a bed of stir­ring music.” You can stream the entire album below (or over on Spo­ti­fy). Above, we’re fea­tur­ing the 8th track on the release, Wayne’s recita­tion and exe­ge­sis of the Pledge of Alle­giance. Some will find it corny, oth­ers rous­ing. Per­son­al­ly, I’m not a fan of syrupy nation­al­ism. But I’ll give Wayne’s inter­pre­ta­tion this–his take rec­og­nizes Amer­i­ca as a place of inclu­sive­ness and open­ness, giv­ing every­one equal access to its oppor­tu­ni­ties and insti­tu­tions. Com­pare it with the nation­al­ist rhetoric you hear today, and, you might find your­self long­ing for John Wayne’s sun­nier Amer­i­ca.

“I pledge alle­giance to the flag”

What do those words mean to you? To me they say, “Thank
you, Amer­i­ca, for your strength, your courage and your
freedom…which has been a bea­con to the world for two
hun­dred years.”

“Of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca”

Whose bright stars are fifty states…each bear­ing its
own stamp of indi­vid­u­al­i­ty. People…two hun­dred
mil­lion strong…people who have come to her from all
cor­ners of the earth.

“And to the repub­lic for which it stands”

A land of laws…with an inge­nious sys­tem of checks and
bal­ances that allows no man to become a tyrant…and
lets no group prevail…if their pow­er is not tem­pered
with a real con­cern for the governed…A land where the
right of dis­sent and of free speech is jeal­ous­ly
guarded…where the bal­lot box is the sword…and the
peo­ple its wield­er.

“One nation under God”

A land where free­dom of wor­ship is a cor­ner­stone of her
being…A land graced with tem­ples and church­es,
syn­a­gogues and altars that rise in pro­fu­sion to embrace
all the reli­gions of the world.

“Indi­vis­i­ble”

A land forged by the hot steel of raw courage…and
formed forever…by the awful cru­cible of civ­il war.

“With lib­er­ty”

Where man in pur­suit of an hon­est life will not be
denied his chance…where her cit­i­zens move freely
with­in her vast bor­ders with­out hin­drance or fear…A
land brim­ming with opportunity…where free­dom of
choice is the guide for all.

“And jus­tice”

The courts of our land are open to all. Its wheels of
jus­tice grind for all causes…all peo­ple. They look to
every avenue for justice…every con­cern of the
law…and they tem­per their rea­son­ing with mer­cy…

“For all!”

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George Orwell Reviews We, the Russian Dystopian Novel That Noam Chomsky Considers “More Perceptive” Than Brave New World & 1984

We know George Orwell’s 1984 and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, at least by rep­u­ta­tion, and we’ve heard both ref­er­ences tossed around with alarm­ing fre­quen­cy this past year. Before these water­shed dystopi­an nov­els, pub­lished over a decade apart (1949 and 1932, respec­tive­ly), came an ear­li­er book, one tru­ly “most rel­e­vant to our time,” writes Michael Bren­dan Dougher­ty: Yevge­ny Zamyatin’s We, writ­ten in 1923 and set “1,000 years after a rev­o­lu­tion that brought the One State into pow­er.” The nov­el had a sig­nif­i­cant influ­ence on Orwell’s more famous polit­i­cal dystopia. And we have a good sense of Orwell’s indebt­ed­ness to the Russ­ian writer.

Three years before the pub­li­ca­tion of 1984, Orwell pub­lished a review of Zamyatin’s book, hav­ing “at last got my hands on a copy… sev­er­al years after hear­ing of its exis­tence.” Orwell describes the nov­el as “one of the lit­er­ary curiosi­ties of this book-burn­ing age” and spends a good part of his brief com­men­tary com­par­ing We to Huxley’s nov­el. “[T]he resem­blance with Brave New World is strik­ing,” he writes. “But though Zamyatin’s book is less well put together—it has a rather weak and episod­ic plot which is too com­plex to summarise—it has a polit­i­cal point which the oth­er lacks.” The ear­li­er Russ­ian nov­el, writes Orwell, in 1946, “is on the whole more rel­e­vant to our own sit­u­a­tion.”

Part of what Orwell found con­vinc­ing in Zamyatin’s “less well put togeth­er” book was the fact that under­neath the tech­no­crat­ic total­i­tar­i­an state he depicts, “many of the ancient human instincts are still there” rather than hav­ing been erad­i­cat­ed by eugen­ics and med­ica­tion. (Although cit­i­zens in We are lobot­o­mized, more or less, if they rebel.) “It may well be,” Orwell goes on to say, “that Zamy­atin did not intend the Sovi­et regime to be the spe­cial tar­get of his satire.” He did write the book many years before the Stal­in­ist dic­ta­tor­ship that inspired Orwell’s dystopias. “What Zamy­atin seems to be aim­ing at is not any par­tic­u­lar coun­try but the implied aims of indus­tri­al civ­i­liza­tion.”

In the inter­view at the top of the post (with clum­sy sub­ti­tles), Noam Chom­sky makes some sim­i­lar obser­va­tions, and declares We the supe­ri­or book to both Brave New World and 1984 (which he pro­nounces “obvi­ous and wood­en”). Zamy­atin was “more per­cep­tive” than Orwell or Hux­ley, says Chom­sky. He “was talk­ing about the real world…. I think he sensed what a total­i­tar­i­an sys­tem is like,” pro­ject­ing an over­whelm­ing­ly con­trol­ling sur­veil­lance state in We before such a thing exist­ed in the form it would in Orwell’s time. The nov­el will remind us of the many dystopi­an sce­nar­ios that have pop­u­lat­ed fic­tion and film in the almost 100 years since its pub­li­ca­tion. As Dougher­ty con­cise­ly sum­ma­rizes it, in We:

Cit­i­zens are known only by their num­ber, and the sto­ry’s pro­tag­o­nist is D‑503, an engi­neer work­ing on a space­ship that aims to bring the glo­ri­ous prin­ci­ples of the Rev­o­lu­tion to space. This world is ruled by the Bene­fac­tor, and presided over by the Guardians. They spy on cit­i­zens, who all live in apart­ments made of glass so that they can be per­fect­ly observed. Trust in the sys­tem is absolute.

Equal­i­ty is enforced, to the point of dis­fig­ur­ing the phys­i­cal­ly beau­ti­ful. Beau­ty — as well as its com­pan­ion, art — are a kind of heresy in the One State, because “to be orig­i­nal means to dis­tin­guish your­self from oth­ers. It fol­lows that to be orig­i­nal is to vio­late the prin­ci­ple of equal­i­ty.”

Zamy­atin sure­ly drew from ear­li­er dystopias, as well as the clas­si­cal utopia of Plato’s Repub­lic. But an even more imme­di­ate influ­ence, curi­ous­ly, was his time spent in Eng­land just before the Rev­o­lu­tion. Like his main char­ac­ter, Zamy­atin began his career as an engineer—a ship­builder, in fact, the craft he stud­ied at St. Peters­burg Poly­tech­ni­cal Uni­ver­si­ty. He was sent to New­cas­tle in 1916, writes Yolan­da Del­ga­do, “to super­vise the con­struc­tion of ice­break­ers for the Russ­ian gov­ern­ment. How­ev­er, by the time the ships actu­al­ly reached Rus­sia, they belonged to the new authorities—the Bol­she­viks…. [I]n an iron­ic twist, Zamy­atin, one of the most out­spo­ken ear­ly crit­ics of the Sovi­et regime, actu­al­ly designed the first Sovi­et ice­break­ers.”

While Zamy­atin wrote We in response to the Sovi­et takeover, his style and sci-fi set­ting was great­ly inspired by his immer­sion in Eng­lish cul­ture. His two years abroad “great­ly influ­enced him,” from his dress to his speech, earn­ing him the nick­name “the Eng­lish­man.” He became so flu­ent in Eng­lish that he found work as an “edi­tor and trans­la­tor of for­eign authors such as H.G. Wells, Jack Lon­don, and Sheri­dan.” (Dur­ing his sojourn in Eng­land, writes Orwell, Zamy­atin “had writ­ten some blis­ter­ing satires on Eng­lish life.”) Upon return­ing to Rus­sia, Zamy­atin quick­ly became one of the “very first dis­si­dents.” We was banned by the Sovi­et cen­sors in 1921, and that year the author pub­lished an essay called “I Fear,” in which he described the strug­gles of Russ­ian artists under the new regime, writ­ing, “the con­di­tions under which we live are tear­ing us to pieces.”

Even­tu­al­ly smug­gling the man­u­script of We to New York, Zamy­atin was able to get the nov­el pub­lished in 1923, incur­ring the wrath of the Sovi­et author­i­ties. He was “ostra­cized… demo­nized in the press, black­list­ed from pub­lish­ing and kicked out of the Union of Sovi­et Writ­ers.” Zamy­atin was unapolo­getic, writ­ing Stal­in to ask that he be allowed to leave the coun­try. Stal­in not only grant­ed the request, allow­ing Zamy­atin to set­tle in Paris, but allowed him back into the Union of Sovi­et Writ­ers in 1934, an unusu­al turn of events indeed. Just above, you can see a Ger­man film adap­ta­tion of We (turn on closed cap­tions to watch it with Eng­lish sub­ti­tles). And you can read Orwell’s full review of We here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Hear the Very First Adap­ta­tion of George Orwell’s 1984 in a Radio Play Star­ring David Niv­en (1949)

Hear Aldous Hux­ley Read Brave New World. Plus 84 Clas­sic Radio Dra­mas from CBS Radio Work­shop (1956–57)

George Orwell’s 1984 Is Now the #1 Best­selling Book on Ama­zon

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

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