Where is the Horse and the Rider

or 'Why you see few art-related posts on my page'

"Where is the horse and the rider?

Where is the horn that was blowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountains,

Like wind in the meadow

The days have come down in the West

Behind the hills into shadow..."

Where is the love of beauty? Where is breathtaking art and poignant song, and where are those who will seek them, praise them, cherish them, and show us how to see?

Like the brief, ephemeral art of our generation, they have been abruptly hidden from sight. Rinsed as from the slate -- no tablet of wax bearing the imprint of centuries' wisdom. Rather, the clean slate of a frontier school that started clean one day and started clean again the next.

Just as we are minimalists in ownership, we are minimalists in understanding or in seeking, in knowing and in wishing to know. And so we receive what we desire, we reap what we sow, which is so close now to nothingness. Where is the love of beauty, the devout appraisal of art? It is as it is in our hearts. Do we expect the tiny race of the people of culture to shower us with the Gospel while we wonder whether we are Princess Belle in her green dress or blue, or which Buzzfeed quiz will show us our best virtues?

Can you hear the overwhelming silence of the artists? I can hear the sea ceasing to sing, ceasing to whelm us over with the peace that she has given the imagination and the further peace that the imagination has given her. Did we think the artists would not starve? But they have all starved -- starved from a destruction of beauty in the world, a destruction of real living, of the seemingly invincible subject. The world has died, and art imitates life as life imitates art. Have you seen the imitation of death? I know that I have.

"The everlasting violence of that double passion with which God hates and loves the world" has come upon the artists in their silence. And as much as they have loved her, adorned and graced her with their innumerable lavishments, they wish nothing now but for her destruction, her punishment, her fall from pride into desolation and suffering and noisome darkness and fear. Repentance.

The fuel of the artist is life -- life that breeds more life -- life teeming and bursting at the seams -- life burgeoning unstoppably and never ceasing to unfold into new and eternal glories. Is it any wonder that the artists are silent, or that the lesser imitate death until it takes them.

Here is the demand of beauty: life. What prodigies have we killed, or allowed to die? No more.

The death of society is at hand. Were we more bitter towards the slaughter of our friends, we would have burned the fortresses of darkness and salted the earth, leaving the festering fields of evil forever barren.

We wish to intervene against the Islamic State in the Middle East. This is a just impulse. But, in our haste to tender retribution, do we forget the thousands slaughtered daily at home. Are the lives of countless children less worthy than the preservation of political potency in names: in "Yezidi", in "Christian", in "Shi'ite". Do we wish to save lives? Is that our intent? Or do we wish to save particular lives for particular reasons? Are the unborn not our brothers and sisters, and do they not live next door. Do they not die next door.

Can you justify your willingness to stop the IS against your unwillingness to stop the Abortionist State? Is it easier to fight a tyrant thousands of miles away?

The lauds of the poet fall silent. The artist in anger and desperation hurls his brush. Is there beauty in the world.

Can you justify not -- at the very least -- standing in prayer before the clinic, adjuring those who would be murderers to abandon their course? Rationalize, I beg you. Rationalize. Rationalize a way to avoid preventing murder when power is in your hands. I have dispensed with the arguments. I have had them all. I have heard them all. There is not one left with integrity. The truth cries out like a stone. It will not move.

The poet falls silent. The artist's heart roils and burns, and a black anger rises.

If you would have the soldiers stopped who terrorize in the name of Islam, but you will not place yourself in danger for your brother who perishes at the hands of the mercenary next door, the only judgement left to you is that of coward and liar.

Go out into the world. Go out. You have been sent out to bring the good news. The good news begins with the gospel of life. You must protect life, from conception to natural death. If you have not done this basic duty, this basic act for the ongoing creation of society, if you watch society crumble -- you too will fall with it.

Go out into the streets and pray, and beg God for mercy. I too will go with you. Come alive, and reject the systematic destruction of the human person. Overthrow the deathly edifice. This is our duty. It is undeniable. It is irrefutable. It is the supreme test of faith in our time -- the supreme evil, that which requires the most devout action in opposition.

If you wish to have good things, you must give, and you must first give life.

Where is the horse and the rider?

The beauty of the warrior lies in that which he defends.

Surviving Ideology

A cursory critique of the more public Slavoj Zizek

Marc Chagall

"The unexamined life is not worth living." -- Socrates via Plato (or Plato via Socrates) (or both)

In February, Slavoj Zizek wrote an article loosely attached to the unified protests in Bosnia-Herzogovina. Zizek paints a portrait in which "we see the demonstrators waving three flags side by side: Bosnian, Serb, Croat, expressing the will to ignore ethnic differences. ... What the Bosnian outburst confirms is that one cannot genuinely overcome ethnic passions by imposing a liberal agenda: what brought the protesters together is a radical demand for justice."

Zizek expresses the similarity of this moment with "the enemy soldiers fraternising across the trenches in the first world war", an "authentic emancipatory event".

Unfortunately, the auspices of this event are those of oppression. The "radical demand for justice" is very basic, very fundamental. These ethnic groups together sought "jobs, a decent life, an end to corruption", objects so universally valued that there are few upon the earth who would deny their significance. While such an event is certainly inspiring and reaffirmative of these essential desires of the human heart that bind us all together, regardless of our differences, it is yet not such a landmark as it may seem. 

Indeed, "the people of Bosnia have finally understood who their true enemy is: not other ethnic groups, but their own leaders who pretend to protect them from others", but it is only when their most inalienable rights are threatened that such unity is apparently possible. As above, they face a common enemy to life and livelihood itself.

Zizek sees this as a beautiful alternative to the rise of fascism brought about by the "left's failure". But the situation in Bosnia-Herzogovina is merely a regression, the return to a point at which the examined life is not possible because humanity is deprived of certain requirements for society. Immediately antecedent to this crisis, Bosnia was "a country which, in the last decades, has become synonymous with ferocious ethnic cleansing".

It is difficult to say that such a unification of these ethnic groups is a step forward towards a true democracy, but it is possible that we who sit outside the conflict may observe the role of justice and change our ways. There is a simple lesson to learn: what draws the people together is justice. 

A word too often manipulated throughout history, but which still rings of a perfection beyond human attainability. If one were to approach every matter from the perspective of the man who seeks justice -- to give every person his/her due -- he would be difficult to ignore in argument or debate. This is the hope that Zizek's portrait reveals:

• The conflict between liberal permissiveness and fundamentalism is ultimately a false conflict – a vicious cycle of the two poles generating and presupposing each other. What Max Horkheimer said about fascism and capitalism back in the 1930s (that those who do not want to talk critically about capitalism should also keep quiet about fascism) should be applied to today's fundamentalism: those who do not want to talk critically about liberal democracy should also keep quiet about religious fundamentalism.

Justice is the gathering point, the place in which all clamor must cease. Justice recalls our duty to examine what we hold in common, in respect of which we must pursue a social resolution that renders men live, whole, and happy. It is much easier to listen to someone who is willing to discuss all points, and, measuring all holistically, come to a conclusion that suits all because it nods in every direction without bowing in any.

But with Zizek, too, we must give what is due. We must disagree that he understands what this justice is. We must disagree that "a new Dark Age is looming, with ethnic and religious passions exploding and Enlightenment values receding. These passions were lurking in the background all the time, but what is new is the outright shamelessness of their display."

For to highlight the "shamelessness" of even Islamist reactionaries while neglecting to note the desperately extreme moral depravity of the West is to fail to recognize that the looming "Dark Age" is one instigated by Enlightenment values, and met with the disgusted and frightened herd of ludditism. 

In fact, those pillars of Western Civilization which now recede are the learned Greeks and the Christians who bore them up out of decadence, the great philosophical, theological, and literary traditions that still cling with fingers faithful to the barren earth.

"Lurking in the background" of Zizek's global imagination is that same undiscerning tolerance that left the garden untended while the golden serpent danced and writhed, that subtlest beast of all the field, and left man in the dark for saying he could know God's mind and act in his stead.

As the aforementioned "simplistic liberal universalism long ago lost its innocence", so Zizek's statement in his article of May 6 that "only a transnational entity can manage" to "teach the superpowers, old and new, some manners" proffers a worldview that will only inevitably lose its innocence, hastening a wasteland of the dispossessed and disemboweled.

If the current panoply of armed superpowers assaults human dignity by playing puppet -- in Zizek's quotation of Popper, "hypothesizing" -- with smaller national and cultural entities, then how heavily will a global power (made up of who else but a narrowing cadre of superpower regimes) crush the lighted prism of the world.

The Sincerity of American Self-Loathing

Marcello Pera

The Italian philosopher and senator, Marcello Pera, in his essay "Relativism, Christianity, and the West," has written about the perhaps inappropriate self-loathing of Western Civilization -- its recantation of former beliefs sincerely held, its illness of toleration, its apologies for colonial wrongdoing.

Recognizing the legitimate problems present in the negative side effects of Western colonialism, Pera defends the great good that the West -- that's us -- has brought about in suffering countries. I am reminded, for example, of a statement by George Obama, Barack's brother, to the effect that South Africa is a well-organized state because of Western influence, while Kenya is in a condition of chaos because that influence is no longer present.

George Obama, who lives in an 8x8 shack, appreciates the benefits of Western culture. We know that his brother probably shares this opinion, if only subconsciously.

But this is the European picture of Westernesse that I am talking about, not the American.

The European West is necessarily insincere in its self-loathing. Or at least hypocritical.

On the one hand, it sustains large-scale humanitarian efforts, while on the other, it condemns its own self-righteousness -- particularly in the universities, where cultural contextualism is the new "Marseilles." Europe is embattled with itself, and we can only pray that its Christian roots win out in the end.

America, however, is an entirely different story. America is the dumber younger brother nevertheless attempting to emulate the older in his singular inner turmoil. America is addicted to the attractive aloofness and arrogance of its inattentive idol. It's why we like French things.

America puts on airs. It has pretensions to Europeanism, but it is hopelessly ignorant of the ideological troubles faced on the European continent, and so it is hopelessly doomed to ape them ineffectually. And this unrootedness of America, this disconnection from heritage, is bound up in the very reason for our founding: flee the system.

Unfortunately, when we fled society and culture for the wilderness, we fled society and culture for the wilderness.

Here, capitalism has lifted its dress for the bestialism of the frontier. Moneyed bestialism then decided to try on culture. And when the nouveau riche donned their borrowed spectacles, they found themselves disjointed and uncomfortable, but nevertheless unwilling to lay down that assumed arrogance that sweeps over the abyss with waxen wings.

Moneyed bestialism then aped the great empires of the continent, but instead of civilization left mostly burnt forests and oil interests. And when it had found that this was no longer the trend, it turned on itself -- not knowing why -- and began to slap its own wrists for all the wrong reasons. There was no sincere questioning of morals, only an arbitrary reformulation of morals to more adequately conform to both moneyed bestialism and blind idol-worship.

Idols, of course, are not the real thing. Europe, with its cognizant self, may pull out of its self-loathing with a redemptive re-imagining of the Western spirit and the values of that spirit.

America, alas, may be both solitary and sincere in its self-loathing when the "I-less" want overtakes it.