Was man, indeed, at once so powerful, so
virtuous and magnificent, yet so vicious and base?
He appeared at one time a mere scion of the
evil principle, and at another as all that can be
conceived of noble and godlike.
To be a great and virtuous man appeared the
highest honour that can befall a sensitive being;
to be base and vicious, as many on record have
been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition
more abject than that of the blind mole or harmless
worm. For a long time I could not conceive how
one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or
even why there were laws and governments; but
when I heard details of vice and bloodshed, my
wonder ceased, and I turned away with disgust
and loathing.

----------
I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure,
that had long appeared dead, revive within me.
Half surprised by the novelty of these sensations,
I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and
forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be
happy. Soft tears again bedewed my cheeks, and
I even raised my humid eyes with thankfulness
towards the blessed sun, which bestowed such joy
upon me.

----------

'Wretch!' I said, 'It is well that you come here to
whine over the desolation that you have made.
You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and
when they are consumed you sit among the ruins,
and lament the fall.
Hypocritical fiend! If he whom you mourn still lived,
still would he be the object, again would he become
the prey of your accursed vengeance.
It is not pity that you feel; you lament only because
the victim of your malignity is withdrawn from your
power.'
...in the realm of morals the role of Christianity
has been, at best, ambivalent.

Even leaving out of the account the remarkable
arrogance that assumed that the ways and morals
of others were inferior to those of Christians, and
that they therefore had every right, and could use
any means, to change them, the collision
between cultures - and the schizophrenia in the
mind of Christendom - had rendered the domain
of morals as chartless as the sea once was,
and as treacherous as the sea still is.

It is not too much to say that whoever wishes
to become a truly moral human being (and let us
not ask whether or not this is possible; I think
we must believe that is is possible) must first
divorce himself from all the prohibitions,
crimes, and hypocrisies of the Christian church.

If the concept of God has any validity or any use,
it can only be to make us larger, freer, and more
loving. If God cannot do this, then it is time we
got rid of Him.
I have never really had any clear idea why I
wanted to get tattooed except that I find tattoos
profoundly beautiful, alluring, joyful, strange and
interesting. In getting tattooed, we participate
(often unwittingly) in fascinating complex,
controversial, suppressed and entwined histories.
The meanings of tattoos may be deeply personal,
but they are also more than personal: signs in an
ancient and continually expanding network of signs.

Tattooing has been around for over five thousand
years and has developed across the extent of the
globe from the Artic to the Tierra del Fuego. Behind
the tattoo renaissance are long standing and culturally
significant practices involving magic, medicine,
community, ritual and spirituality. Tattoo history is also,
since at least the eighteenth century, a colonial history
in which tattoo practices have been subjected to
repression, as well as becoming caught up in less
violent global processes of cultural exchange. Today,
many indigenous tattoo traditions, especially in the
Pacific, have become resurgent after being demonised
and outlawed by imperial regimes, though there are
now also anxieties about the appropriation of socially
specific designs in our globalised mass culture.

----------

To be normal is to live with an unmarked skin;
to mark the skin is to announce yourself as a
deviant, quite possibly with criminal tendencies.
As large tracts of the world lose their ability to
support human life, those who can afford it will move
- those who cannot will die. But, to some neoliberal
thinkers, this is simply the price of progress.
The neoliberal economist Andrew Lilico is one
among many proposing that humanity will just have
to live with climate breakdown, as we 'can't afford'
to stop it happening.
He wrote a column for the Daily Telegraph titled
'We have failed to prevent global warming,
so we must adapt to it'.
... the two uses of 'we' in this headline referred
to different people. 'We, the owners of fossil fuel
plants or the profits that arise from them' can
accept no new taxation to encourage green energy,
or regulation to discourage the consumption of
fossil fuels. This 'we' cannot adapt even to the
slightest interruption of the profit pipeline. But the
other 'we', which turns out to mean 'they' - the
countless millions of people in the Global South -
can and must adapt to the loss of their homes,
their land and their lives.
When challenged on Twitter to explain how
people in the tropics might adapt to a world
in which 4°C of global warming had happened,
Lilico replied: 'I imagine tropics adapt to 4°C
world by being wastelands with few folk living
in them. Why's that not an option??'

----------
By comparison to the pre-neoliberal trend,
the bottom 90 percent lost $47 trillion between
1975 and 2018. Conversely, between 1990 and 2020
the wealth of US billionaires, adjusted for inflation,
increased roughly twelvefold. There's a similar story
in other nations. In the UK, wages have stagnated,
while the costs of living - especially housing - have
soared. Since the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic,
the world's ten richest men have doubled their wealth,
while an additional 163 million people have been
pushed below the poverty line.

----------

"Neoliberalism ... has generated economic growth
by pushing workers to the limit, accelerating
resource extraction, and inflating asset values and
household debt. It is an incendiary device - burning
through human relationships and the fabric of our
planet, faster and more ruthlessly than Keynesianism
did. For while neoliberal capitalism continues to loot
the South to enrich the North, it also loots the future
to enrich the present.
"I'd rather be myself," he said. "Myself and nasty.
Not somebody else, however jolly."

----------

"But if you know about God, why don't you tell them?"
asked the Savage indignantly.
"Why don't you give them these books about God?"

"For the same reason as we don't give them Othello:
they're old; they're about God hundreds of years ago.
Not about God now."

"But God doesn't change."

"Men do, though."

----------
'It's the complete physiological equivalent of fear and
rage. All the tonic effects of murdering Desdemona
and being murdered by Othello, without any of the
inconveniences.'

'But I like the inconveniences.'

'We don't,' said the Controller.
'We prefer to do things comfortably.'

'But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want
poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I
want goodness, I want sin.'

'In fact,' said Mustapha Mond, 'you're claiming
the right to be unhappy.'

'All right then,' said the Savage defiantly,
'I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.'

'Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly
and impotent; the right to have syphilis and
cancer; the right to have too little to eat;
the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant
apprehension of what may happen tomorrow;
the right to catch typhoid; the right to be
tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.'

There was a long silence.
'I claim them all,' said the Savage at last.
There was nothing forbidden or banned about
them, they were just things she had for some
reason avoided doing. She felt like doing them
all now, immediately. On the other hand she didn't
feel like rushing to get home, or doing any single
one of them straight away. Instead she walked
slowly along delighting in every step her little
shoes took along the dry pavement. She walked
past shops that were not yet locked up, but she
didn't go into any of them to buy the food or the
things she needed. She walked past some theatre
posters but didn't read a single one, even though
in her present mood she wanted to read them.
And so she just walked, walked on and on.
This was her delight. It was all there was to
her pleasure. And occasionally she smiled.

----------
...you were born after the Revolution, but they
haven't put you in prison. Well, have you lost your
faith in socialism, or haven't you?'

Kostogolotov smiled vaguely.
'I don't know. Things got so tough out there, you
sometimes went further than you wanted to, out of
sheer fury.'

Shulubin freed the hand he had been using to prop
himself up on the bench. With this hand, now
enfeebled by disease, he clung to Oleg's shoulder.
'Young Man,' he said, 'don't ever make this mistake.
Don't ever blame socialism for the suffering and the
cruel years you've lived through. However you think
about it, history has rejected capitalism once and for
all!'

'Well, out there, out there in the camps, we used to
argue that there was a lot of good in private enterprise.
It makes life easier, you see. You can always get
everything. You know where to find things.'

'You know, that's a philistine's way of reasoning. It's
true that private enterprise is extremely flexible, but
it's good only within very narrow limits. If private
enterprise isn't held in an iron grip it gives birth to
people who are no better than beasts, those
stock-exchange people with greedy appetites
completely beyond restraint. Capitalism was doomed
ethically before it was doomed economically, a long
time ago.'
People on the side of The People always ended up
disappointed, in any case. They found that The People
tended not to be grateful or appreciative or forward-
thinking or obedient. The People tended to be small-
minded and conservative and not very clever and were
even distrustful of cleverness. And so the children of the
revolution were faced with the age-old problem: it wasn't
that you had the wrong kind of government, which was
obvious, but that you had the wrong kind of people. As
soon as you saw people as things to be measured, they
didn't measure up. What would run through the streets
soon enough wouldn't be a revolution or a riot. It'd be
people who were frightened and panicking. It was what
happened when the machinery of city life faltered, the
wheels stopped turning and all the little rules broke
down. And when that happened, humans were worse
than sheep. Sheep just ran; they didn't try to bite
the sheep next to them.

----------
Vimes nodded at the woodwork, and went out to
stretch his legs and get some lunch. It was waiting
for him, on a tray, around the neck of a man.
Quite a young man, now, but there was something
about his expression, as of a rat who was expecting
cheese right around the corner, and had been
expecting cheese around the last corner too,
and the corner before that, and, although the world
had turned out so far to be full of corners and yet
completely innocent of any cheese at all, was
nevertheless quite certain that, just around the corner,
cheese awaited.

----------

The Sam Vimes "Boots" Theory of Economic Injustice runs
thus: At the time of Men at Arms, Samuel Vimes earned
thirty-eight dollars a month as a Captain of the Watch,
plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots,
the sort that would last years and years, cost fifty
dollars. This was beyond his pocket and the most he
could hope for was an affordable pair of boots costing
ten dollars, which might with luck last a year or so
before he would need to resort to makeshift cardboard
insoles so as to prolong the moment of shelling out
another ten dollars. Therefore over a period of ten
years, he might have paid out a hundred dollars on boots,
twice as much as the man who could afford fifty dollars
up front ten years before. And he would still have wet feet.
Freedom in capitalist society always remains
about the same as it was in the ancient Greek
republics: freedom for the slaveowners. Owing to
the conditions of capitalist exploitation, the
modern wage slaves are so crushed by want and
poverty that "they cannot be bothered with
democracy," "cannot be bothered with politics";
in the ordinary, peaceful course of events,
the majority of the population is debarred
from participation in public and political life.

----------
Democracy for an insignificant minority,
democracy for the rich: this is the democratise
of capitalist society. If we look more closely
into the mechanism of capitalist democracy, we
shall see everywhere, both in the 'petty'
- supposedly petty - details of the suffrage
(residential qualification, exclusion of women, etc.)
and in the techniques of the representative of
institutions, in the real obstacles to the right of
assembly (public buildings are not for 'beggars'!)
as well as in the purely capitalist organisation
of the daily press and so on and so forth, we shall
see restriction upon democracy. These restrictions,
exclusion, exceptions, obstacles for the poor, seem
petty, especially in the eyes of anyone who has
never known want himself and never been in close
contact with the oppressed classes in their mass
life (and nine-tenths, if not ninety-nine hundredths,
of bourgeois publicists and politicians are of such
a kind); but the sum total of these restrictions
excludes and shoves out the poor from politics,
from active participation in democracy.

Marx graded the essence of capitalist democracy
magnificently when in analysing the experience of
the Commune, he spoke as follows: the oppressed
are allowed once every few years to decide which
particular representatives of the oppressing class
shall represent and repress them in parliament!
I remember that dinner table with extraordinary
vividness even now. My dear wife's sweet anxious
face peering at me from under the pink lamp shade,
the white cloth with its silver and glass table
furniture - for in those days even philosophical
writers had many little luxuries - the crimson-purple
wine in my glass, are photographically distinct.
At the end of it I sat, tempering nuts with a cigarette,
regretting Ogilvy's rashness, and denouncing the
shortsighted timidity of the Martians. So some
respectable dodo in the Mauritius might have
lorded it in his nest, and discussed the arrival of
that shipful of pitiless sailors in want of animal food.

"We will peck them to death tomorrow, my dear."

----------
Perhaps I am a man of exceptional moods.
I do not know how far my experience is common.
At times I suffer from the strangest sense of
detachment from myself and the world about me;
I seem to watch it all from the outside, from
somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time,
out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of
it all. This feeling was very strong upon me
that night.

----------

I went to a box-room at the top of the house
and locked myself in, in order to be alone
with my aching miseries.
The factory extends around me like a back-drop.
I seldom perceive it as a whole, and I can
hardly fit together the few details which
I know. Where am I? Who am I? Is it really
possible to get men in their right minds to
accept this kind of life: to get them to
come through a huge door, to cross these
enormous workshops, to stand between
neighbouring positions, to run through
prescribed work, to bargain over the price
of sweat, to collect a wage fixed by others,
to go home and then return the next day to
exactly the same situation? Is it really
possible to make them believe - here, at home,
everywhere - the assertions in the subtitles
of this alien film, that everyone must accept
what is beyond the comprehension of their senses,
that we must live like this?

----------
Perhaps, in some places, this enemy science
really does have the means of escaping sabotage,
and reckoning what we are capable of, here and now,
as wage workers, implementing an alien will.
But it has no idea of what we would or could do in
its place, on our own account.

Our sabotage is nothing other than a refusal to give
away our knowledge and experience: the form which
it takes is to falsify them. But can one still talk of
being scientific when the workers see science as
their enemy? ... We reduce the effectiveness of new
technology as much as we can, and we sabotage its
further development.
My workmates don't think much of measures taken to
alleviate work, because they're always accompanied by
an increase in production, or at least a reduction in
pay. The technology of norms has absolutely no place
for methods which lessen the compulsion to produce
without also cutting back wages. If they could invent
a new machine that was less demanding, the worker
would have to service three at the same time;
when an apparatus is introduced which only requires
half an hour's work, someone will have to do this
half-hour as part of what he's doing already. The
eight hours must be worked without rest or respite.
The first goal of a technical science under the
control of workers would be an increase in production
that reduced the amount of work necessary to bring it
about. Of course, that would be possible only if what
happens to profits also came under their control.
The ideological blackmail that has been
in place since the original Live Aid concerts
in 1985 has insisted that 'caring individuals'
could end famine directly, without the need
for any kind of political solution or systemic
reorganisation. It is necessary to act straight
away, we were told; politics has to be suspended
in the name of ethical immediacy. Bono's Product
Red brand wanted to dispense even with the
philanthropic intermediary. 'Philanthropy is like
hippy music, holding hands', Bono proclaimed.
'Red is more like punk rock, hip hop, this should
feel like hard commerce'. The point was not to
offer an alternative to capitalism - on the
contrary, Product Red's 'punk rock' or 'hip hop'
character consisted in its 'realistic' acceptance
that capitalism is the only game in town. No, the
aim was only to ensure that some of the proceeds
of particular transactions went to good causes.
The fantasy being that western consumerism, far
from being intrinsically implicated in systemic
global inequalities, could itself solve them.
All we have to do is buy the right products.

----------
Time after time, the villain in Hollywood
films will turn out to be the 'evil corporation'.
Far from undermining capitalist realism, this
gestural anti-capitalism actually reinforces it.
Take Disney/ Pixar's Wall-E (2008). The film shows
an earth so despoiled that human beings are no
longer capable of inhabiting it. We're left in
no doubt that consumer capitalism and corporations
- or rather one mega-corporation, Buy n Large -
is responsible for this depredation; and when we
eventually see the human beings in offworld
exile, they are infantile and obese, interacting
via screen interfaces, carried around in large
motorised chairs, and supping indeterminate slop
from cups.
What we have here is a vision of control and
communication much as Jean Baudrillard understood
it, in which subjugation no longer takes the form
of a subordination to an extrinsic spectacle, but
rather invites us to interact and participate ...
But this kind of irony feeds rather than challenges
capitalist realism. A film like Wall-E exemplifies
what Robert Pfaller has called 'interpassivity':
the film performs our anti-capitalism for us,
allowing us to continue to consume with impunity.
... So long as we believe (in our hearts) that
capitalism is bad, we are free to continue to
participate in capitalist exchange.
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