The Zahir 5.2 - Democracy

the university of York’s culture magazine

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volume 5, issue 2 spring, 2010

volume 5, issue 2 Spring, 2010 the university of york’s culture magazine

the zahir zahir.org.uk

Music 21: Isobel Cowper-Coles faces a chorus of approval 22: Joe Walsh has the whole world in his hand 23: Tom West won’t be breaking out the guyliner 24: Chris Dietz on a tearful marriage Comments 25: Matilda Marshall Features:

26: Holly Phillips

2: Guy Wilson gets radical 3:Peter Hagen on Iran

6: Holly Phillips on Censorship

Welcome to the spring 2010 edition of The Zahir. We’re looking for new people to get involved in the next magazine, so if you’d like to write for us, proof read, help with advertising or web design, please email us at: zahir@yusu.org

7: Marnie Richards casts her i over the new way to read

Check out the website at: zahir.org.uk

8: Lewis Anton Earl turns the page of technology

We’re also on Facebook

Literature: 5: Justin Bailey gets criminal

9: Harriet Evans sticks up for genre fiction Film 10: Michael Tansini busts those blocks 12: Anya Benson nature

heads into the wilds of

13: Sharon Coleclough looks at the progress of film 14: Tom Shingler on film technology

We have an ongoing creative writing competition, with the prize of a block of cheese of your choice (within reasonable limits). Entries of no more than 800 words to zahir@yusu.org The Zahir is edited by: Editor: Siobhan Hurley Deputy Editor: Guy Wilson

Politics 15: Freddy Vanson goes to war on war

Film: Dan Moody

17: Dominic Mantle doesn’t want to lord it over us

Literature: Holly Phillips Music: Joe Walsh Politics: Sarah Dean

Arts 18: Oliver Fearon is Hogarthing the page

The Zahir is printed by Inprint Colour:

19: Kaite O’Loughlin doesn’t want to play

www.inprint-colour.co.uk

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Feature

Also in this section: Peter Hagen asks what the cost of democracy might be for Iran.

On The Tipping Point There is no perfect pickle, there are only perfect pickles. Well, we’re in a pickle now. “Who talks of boom and bust economics today?” A question posed by Tony Blair in 2007, around the time of his resignation. Back then it was Gordon Brown, on how those times were over. Now its everyone but the Prime Minister.

I’m sure when he’s not throwing his moral compass at you, he’s trying to keep on the course it sets for him. He got into politics after seeing the poverty in Kirkcaldy as the mining and textiles industry fell apart, feeling angry at the social injustice.

He’s a big football fan and apparently he’s a friendly witty guy, the kind you’d like to sit around and have a few beers with on a Friday evening. He’s even friends with J K Rowling. The problem for him is that none of this matters. The truth is that he’s a pretty terrible Prime Minister. Gordon Brown was Chancellor of the Exchequer for a little over ten years, leading us through a period of reasonable economic growth, where the government had money to burn. Despite this excellent economic climate, personal debt has roughly tripled under New Labour, and income inequality, the growth of which characterised the Thatcher government, has also risen.

Now the government is borrowing money at unsustainable rate, the highest peacetime borrowing requirement, like ever.

Many blame those pesky bankers for the recession. But we could also quite easily blame, ourselves, the British public for giving those bankers all our money without asking what the bankers were going to do with it.

For those of you that did ask, and put your money with banks like the Cooperative or Triodos, you pertinently won’t need to have been bailed out.

If we take another look, is there some individual to blame? New Labour, “are intensely relaxed about people getting

Writing with misplaced authority, Guy Wilson calls for a radical review of British democracy

Houses of Parliament Sauce

filthy rich,” as suggested by their cutting of corporation tax by about ten percent. Furthermore Gordon Brown has supported a deregulated mortgage market, where people are able to borrow well beyond their means. He’s also been asleep at the helm as derivatives markets have developed, failing to legislate to ensure reasonable levels of transparency. Just in case you bought the line that this is a ‘global recession’ that Gordon Brown was nowhere near at the time, here’s a quick summary of how the economic crisis happened. The recession was essentially triggered by the bursting of the house prices bubbles in the US, and partly the UK. The scale of the problem was disguised through a complex series of securities and financial innovations which meant that the risks weren’t accurately priced and the values of dodgy investments were massively overinflated. This lead to a stock market crash, and banks finding out lots of their assets weren’t really worth

anything like as much as they believed.

Seeing as London houses one of the three world financial centres, it sort of was our government’s responsibility to keep an eye out for this kind of thing. As the man in charge of the running the economy, I think its reasonable to expect Gordon Brown to keep watch over the housing and financial sectors. And its not like this was a surprise, everyone from Lord Stern, a well respected former government advisor on climate change, to Lib Dem hero Vince Cable, and even your mum, have been saying there might be a problem.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter if Gordon Brown leaves office. If you vote for either of the two main establishment parties, or a number of the smaller ones, you’re going to end up with same old government.

A man named Howard Moscowitz is a true radical. His ideas have revealed some of the the deep flaws in our society, and our political systems. This stems from how in the USA, up until the 1980s, the spaghetti sauce needs of one third of American’s wasn’t met. No one was supplying them with extra chunky spaghetti sauce. Ragu and Prego, the two main suppliers of the stuff had assumed that everyone had the same tastes in spaghetti sauce. The same basic assumption existed in the cola, pickle and mustard industries, among others. No one realised that different people have different spaghetti sauce needs, that different Americans want different sauces, roughly a third each wanting plain, spicy or extra chunky.

As you give people more sauce options, their satisfaction levels rise by a huge margin. The eminent journalist Malcolm Gladwell argues that Moscowitz’s work has “done as much to make Americans happy as perhaps anyone over the last twenty years or so.” Those who have read some of Gladwell’s books will be aware of the extensive list of astute sociological in-

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features sights he’s explored. The Moscowitz one, that there is very rarely a single right answer to any of society’s problems, is perhaps one of the most significant.

If you look around parliament, you’ll soon see that this is a place of conflict. Paintings of great military victories and leaders line the walls.

The chamber of the House of Commons is distinctly adversarial in its layout and design. The language politicians use is filled with warfare metaphors, with political ‘battle lines’ being drawn and talk of ‘bringing the fight’ to the opposition. The whole ideology of the system is of unitary power, in one god, one monarch and one government. Perhaps this is why UKIP’s Nigel Farage recently had a rather embarrassing hissy fit in the EU parliament, directed at the new European President, the truly awesome Herman Van Rompuy. Nigel just doesn’t understand the cooperation, or ideas of diversity of need and opinion that are required to successfully manage a confederation of twenty seven unique states.

Fundamentally the entire British political system is outdated. Its designed for an era of emerging nationalism, empires and power reserved exclusively for elites. The beauty of the system is supposed to be in its organic nature. Its lack of an entrenched constitution allows it to evolve with society, to adapt to an ever changing world.

But this evolution has stalled, while society has kept on moving, the political system hasn’t. If it doesn’t change it may find itself obsolete. What is needed is for an understanding of the ideas of people such as Moscowitz to be translated into our political system.

Just as people want different types of pickle, people want different types of education provision, or social care.

The Iron Chancellor in his solo rule led us into an economic mess that a team effort might well have avoided.

Of course for a society to function, it must retain various universal values and principles, but people must be free to make choices, and entitled to have those choices respected. If x proportion of people vote for party y, just because more voted for party z doesn’t mean the party y voters should be ignored. A democracy where a policy is designed to suit the wishes of one party, and one section of society, is no democracy at all. What is needed is a radical constitutional rethink to break up power monopolies, pluralism and subsidiarity to free people. Our politicians have bad hair and bad attitudes, and that won’t change until we shake up the system.

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Freedom or Death?

As the balance of power shifts, Peter Hagen cautions against rash action on Iran

T

he ruling elites of Iran are remitting power like shit remits a blanket. The good news is that there is no prospect of democracy, and the strong chance of an emerging military dictatorship. Consider facts rather than emotion.

In the months since the troubled election last June there is compelling evidence that power has shifted towards the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), which some have called a military takeover. The consensus has grown to the extent that Hillary Clinton admitted on 15th February that “…the supreme leader, the president, the parliament, is being supplanted [by the IRGC], and that Iran is moving toward a military dictatorship”.

On 4th October last year Mohammad Reza Naghdi was appointed as the chief of Basij, the quasi-decentralised militia of vigilante thugs used to suppress student demonstrations on the streets of Tehran. He is an IRGC man through and through, having risen through the ranks to become deputy chief of the sinisterly-named Al Quds intelligence bureau – but, significantly, no friend of the former IRGC officer, Ahmadinejad. In 2005, Naghdi was appointed head of a major anti-smuggling squad by the newlyelected president, but quickly incurred the wrath of his patron by accusing a big-time donor to the Ahmadinejad campaign of smuggling. He was fired within a week.

Moreover, Naghdi replaced Hossein Taeb. Despite holding command roles in the IRGC, Taeb is primarily a cleric who studied alongside the current Supreme Leader, Khamenei. So not only has there been a rejection of theocratic control in favour of a military hardliner, but the new chief is an enemy of the president to boot.

In addition it is reported that during

2009 the IRGC command has taken full control of Basij, who previously reported to the Supreme Leader or president.

A similar instance occurred when an intelligence chief who, by convention, reported to the Supreme Leader, was removed on 22nd August, 2009, giving that element of the IRGC greater freedom from bureaucratic and theocratic control.

But why is this a good thing? The first premise is how the IRGC work and what are their goals. Since the revolution in 1979, they have fought through surrogate organisations such as Hezbollah and Hamas, in response to perceived threats against Iran.

Throughout the 1980s they funded and managed a brutal campaign of car bombs, kidnappings and hijackings against Israeli and American targets, designed specifically to get those countries out of Lebanon.

It worked. After the 1983 bombings of the American Embassy in Beirut and then, more devastatingly, the Marine barracks, American troops were withdrawn. What distinguishes their form of asymmetrical warfare from the radical Sunni groups under the umbrella of Al-Qaeda is that the Shiite IRGC regard their tactics not as some religious calling inspired by beardy Sheiks shouting on the internet, but as a legitimate, effective and cheap battlefield weapon. It cost less than $2,000 to destroy the American barracks in 1983, killing 241 U.S. servicemen – the largest ‘terrorist’ attack against that country before 9/11. Unlike Al-Qaeda, they did not make their martyrs into pin-up boys for ideological recruitment, instead concealing their names. More recently they have moved away from suicide attacks in favour of supplying Hezbollah with Iranian-made Fajr rockets as well as older Russian versions.

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When they achieved the goal of getting America out of Lebanon – the only recent successful attempt of that kind – their bombings abated, only resuming in that country when Israel became too much of a threat to their interests. There is therefore a progression of maturity in their modes of operation, characterised by self-preservation, defending against America dominating its sphere of influence, and increasing security around its borders. It is also widely believed that the IRGC were involved in buying-off the Shiite Mahdi Army in Iraq, aiding the American withdrawal, and extending Iranian influence through the various Shia groups who will come to dominate popular elections through sheer force of numbers.

So, they are not suicidal; they employ effective tactics; and they have tangible goals which involve securing Iran as a regional superpower and, to this aim, getting America out of its sphere of influence as well as reducing the threat posed by Israel. What’s more, they act rationally according to these methods and in pursuit of these goals.

Compare the theocratic rulers, whose goals concern exporting the revolution abroad and establishing Iran’s position at the head of the Islamic world as a neo-caliphate and a Shia resurgence against a Sunni Saudi Arabia. During the 1980s, at the height of their ideological fervour, the rhetoric was of global revolution and crushing the enemies of Islam – not to mention the recent, sincere promise of Ahmadinejad to wipe Israel off the map. It’s a no-brainer to decide who we want with their finger on a future nuclear button. In many respects, Iran is becoming a regular military

dictatorship. With a weaponised nuke at their disposal, the IRGC, unlike the current Supreme Leader or president, could be relied upon to exploit it as a political tool rather than starting world war three. Remember: not suicidal, not stupid, not irrational.

The alternatives which are clung to

by Liberal commentators in the West – fuelled by the biased reports of exiles and defectors keen to see revolution or intervention – are a bloodless coup or the election of a moderate presidential candidate.

As for the first of these, a velvet revolution will never happen in Iran. The IRGC, with the help of the Basij, can field around a million personnel. The Basij are battle-hardened from the inferno of 1980-1988, and love to kick the shit out of students. The 125,000 professional IRGC are comprehensively tooled-up with hardware acquired from Russia and elsewhere, as well as Iran’s surprisingly developed military-industrial complex – and they also love to kick the shit out of students. They won’t give up without a fight, but much more disturbingly, with constant existential threat emanating from Israel as well as U.S. forces on two of its borders, the IRGC’s agenda carries more public opinion than we in the West care to admit. If Israel attempted a pre-emptive strike against nuclear facilities in Iran, we can be in no doubt that popular opinion would swing the IRGC’s way. Israeli jets would also have to fly through U.S. controlled airspace, implicating the superpower in any action.

Second option: democracy. If we ignore the comprehensive rigging used to shoe Ahmadinejad into power, and assume, wishfully, that his rival MirHossein Mousavi were to prevail in the

features

next election, the outlook is no better.

He is as radical a cleric as any in the Guiding Council, spinning the 1983 bombings as an ideological crusade when he stated “It was the beginning of the second stage of our revolution.

It was after that we discovered our true Islamic identity”. Let us not forget that he was Prime Minister at this time as well, meaning that he directly sanctioned bloody attacks against the West.

Then there are the fractured resistance movements exiled from Iran.

Whether they were to come to power by force – which is impossible – or by vote – which is also impossible – they are already crippled. Most prominent is the People’s Mujahedeen of Iran (PMOI), who were, until recently, proscribed by the UK and many others as a terrorist organisational – possibly in a bid to appease the regime in Iran, who are paranoid of all external opposition. They have been accused of serious human rights abuses and do no command anything like the level of popular support they would need to sustain government in Iran – which is not helped by their collaboration with Saddam Hussein during the Iran-Iraq war.

The alternatives, therefore, are: resurgence by the theocracy, who are inherently unstable; violent revolution; or an unelectable opposition who would represent either purely cosmetic change (Mousavi) or complete instability (any other resistance). With Iran already able to weaponise a dirty bomb, and soon a tactical nuclear warhead, we would be stupid not to take stability and a brutal but rational military dictatorship over any of those. So for the time being democracy will have to wait.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2 Also in this section: Marnie Richards and Lewis Anton Earl confront the e-reader, Harriet Evans on sticks up for the trashy novel

Literature

snapshots of a tainted world

A

t seven-twenty a single flash of hard white light shot out of Geiger’s house like a wave of summer lightning.

As the darkness folded back on it and ate it up a thin tinkling scream echoed out and lost itself among the rain drenched trees.

A double shooting – by gun and camera – electrifies the first half of Raymond Chandler’s 1939 debut novel, The Big Sleep. For a crime author whose reputation rests on his knack for the tough yet extravagantly quotable one-liner and the sophisticated use of a genre’s unsophisticated language, Chandler’s strangely beautiful description of his story’s first major incident may surprise. Really he was never a purveyor of crudely hard-boiled fiction. Even his most lurid moments are relayed with a wicked erudition that makes his writing seem far more dangerous than that of sleazier contemporaries like James M. Cain or Mickey Spillane. Through his protagonist, the canny P.I. Philip Marlowe, Chandler turns his attention on the grotesque rich rather than on a criminal underclass. It’s telling that in the world of The Big Sleep, a dead man is soon forgotten whilst Marlowe chases down a compromising photo of his wealthy client’s daughter instead.

He ends up breaking a pornography racket which blackmails its highclass customers. Even the respectable are involved in an economy of sordid looking, where photos shock more than corpses because they reflect back high society’s rottenness for all to see.

We soon lose track of the compromising photo as we are dizzied by Chandler’s thrillingly, impossibly convoluted plot. He characterised his novel as not a “whodunit” but

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Justin Bailey explores the criminal beauty of The Big Sleep

a “what the hell happened” kind of story, and always favoured the snapshot effect of a series of short, strong scenes over the sustained composure of a well-constructed narrative.

Chandler turns his attention on the grotesque rich rather than a criminal underclass

Chandler excelled in evoking a sense of atmosphere and milieu, relying for inspiration on his adoptive home town of Los Angeles. Though always a critic of a city he thought of as absurd and corrupt, Chandler ended up spending many decades of his life there, using it as the setting for all of his novels. LA would eventually reward his constancy by making him rich; he found lucrative work as a Hollywood scriptwriter in the years after The Big Sleep.

The author’s intense love-hate relationship with Los Angeles sets him in the company of a contemporary from another field; crime photographer Arthur Fellig, better known as his pseudonym “Weegee” for his supernatural ability to get to a murder scene before the police. Weegee was based in New York, and, like Chandler, had a taste for dark satire. His 1945 photographic exposé Naked City is rife with irony; images of school children straining to get a look at a corpse, or a hotdog factory burning to the ground. Weegee compared his New York to Toulouse-Lautrec’s Paris, and he seems to have watched the world with the same flâneur’s gaze. We can detect the same in Marlowe. He becomes Chandler’s proxy, quietly cataloguing the strange world around him with the occasional air of sardonic disdain. But at the end of the story we wonder whether Marlowe stands apart from the world he spies on at all. What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? ... You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now. For the author, we cannot look at a tainted world without becoming tainted by it.

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literature

a literature of transgression?

L

et’s face it: no one likes a corpsefucker. Indeed, the UK law enacted on 29th of January 2009 went so far as to criminalise the production and possession of images, including necrophiliac porn, which it defined as ‘extreme pornography’. Under this legislation ‘extreme pornography’ constitutes depictions of sexual interference with a corpse, life threatening acts, bestiality and serious injury to the anus, genitals or breasts. A cheer should surely go up from those of us who have a few problems with the pornification (and accompanying normalisation) of images of unqualified (and unequivocally gendered) cruelty.

But, before us dinosaurs-of-a-feminismpast crack open the champers, we must consider the impact that pornographic logic has on a much deeper and more culturally pervasive level. The niche forms of pornography which last year’s legislation prohibits depict illegal, rare and roundly condemned sexual practises. Bestiality, for example, is never going to generate a large enough culture to normalise its own paradigm. What goes unmentioned, however, is the normalised paradigm inherent in almost all mainstream, let alone extreme, Western porn: the eroticisation of masculine power and cruelty.

Before we commend ourselves on the not-so-radical exorcism of ancient taboo from our porn culture, we should first consider the implicit normalisation of other types of pornography, though superficially less shocking, no less epistemologically violent, which such an act of censorship dictates.

I take for my example Georges Bataille’s sexually transgressive novella The Story of the Eye. Packed into a neat 88 pages is a tale of two depraved ado-

Holly Phillips confronts the inherently violent structures of mainstream pornography

lescents and their ever graver acts of sexual deviancy. This tale of obsession and fetish culminates in a final act of transgression: the torture-murder of a priest.

A novella which was initially dismissed as mere pornography, The Story of the Eye has come under increasing critical scrutiny in the closing decades of the twentieth century. Critics who, like Ann Soukhanov, want to divine that ‘knowledge is to be found on the edge of [bodily] experience’ look to Bataille’s work for the exploration of the closeness of sex, violence and death which it details.

If this quest is not futile, what knowledge could a text like The Story of the Eye give us, what would be lost through its censorship? Worse, what existing paradigms of sexual inequality would its

hypothetical censorship legitimise?

In May 2006 the pornographic film Gag Factor 15 (released 2004) fell foul of US obscenity laws and was indicted by the US government. The images in this particular instalment of the Gag Factor series, films which depict the brutal deep throating of female actresses (the goal being to make the actress gag whilst her face is covered in mucus, saliva, vomit and eventually semen) coincided with the pictorial evidence of torture and sexual humiliation which emerged from the Abu Ghraib prison facility in Iraq in 2004.

Instalment number 15 transgressed, too poignantly it seems, the moral concerns and taboos of a world in disgust. But, what of Gag Factor 1? or Gag Factor 4? or Gag Factor 28 for that matter?

By making only that which is indubitably abhorrent in porn a target for censorship, the logic of sexual inequality and humiliation that the Gag Factor series is conditioned by remains intact. It emerges that 15 just went a bit too far. Indeed, the series won the AVN Industry Award for ‘Best Oral-Themed Series’ in 2003 and 2004.

Ultimately, the logic of “Gag Factor” is a rot which runs much deeper than the censorship of porn’s most revolting incarnation prescribes. This appetite for humiliating and violent pornography holds a mirror up to our violently patriarchal society. Censorship will not address demand for this type of material and will only drive the rot ever deeper still. The deserving target is surely not The Story of the Eye, nor, even for its abhorrence, Gag Factor 15; but the paradigm of gender inequality which informs porn’s mainstream manifestation and which is routinely granted a false ideological neutrality.

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literature

e-books: the end of paper and ink?

Marnie Richards can’t make an emotional investment in an e-reader

A

t the end of January this year, Apple unveiled their latest creation: the ‘iPad’.

The US release of this tablet computer coincided with a new Apple iBookstore, with the large screen of the portable iPad perfect for reading e-books. This has been hailed as the start of the ‘e-book revolution’; however, does it mark the beginning of the end for traditional paper and ink?

E-readers do have their plus points. In terms of using them for academic work, it makes finding references infinitely easier – a simple search function finds quotes instantly. Definitely an advantage for essay writing students, but would this really be relevant to those who read books simply for pleasure? The size of the iPad is therefore an important factor: it measures 9.6” by 7.5”; admittedly thinner, but slightly larger than the average novel. Those wishing to study several texts whilst traveling may find the space-saving ability of e-readers useful, but the average one-book-at-a-time commuter would probably not.

Compared to traditional books, it is difficult to see a personal e-library as an investment. This may sound a little shallow, but every time I spend a ridiculous amount of money on a book, I feel safe in the knowledge than one day I will have a wonderful collection of literary classics. There is a visuality in a book collection that may be lost if simply reduced to a list of titles on a screen. Students may also appreciate the fact that newly-released e-books cost around 25% less than their printed equivalents, and a quick Ebay search reveals whole collections of e-books selling for just a couple of pounds.

However, one may not be able to donate e-books to friends or pass

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them down to your children, or sell them either; there is an economic and emotional market for secondhand books that simply may not exist for their electronic counterparts.

Besides, emailing a copy of your favourite text rather than physically giving someone your own edition would seem a little dishonest.

While the price of e-books can vary as enormously as that of traditional books, the price of e-readers themselves must also be taken into consideration. Whilst brand-new ebooks are slightly cheaper than traditional books, even the most basic e-readers retail at £150-300. The soon-to-be-announced UK price of the iPad is estimated at being between £350 and £700 depending on the model - out of the price range of almost all students. Financial issues, however, may be irrelevant; serious academic and reference texts are unlikely, in the near future at least, to be translated into electronic form, limiting the use of ereaders for students.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the emotional connection found with books in a physical form is not merely associated with the sheer pride of having a grand book collection, but also with particular books themselves. Personally, I think this is the true reason why e-books will never completely replace traditional books, and for me, they could never even compete.

Every time I settle down to my old, battered copy of Frankenstein, I find myself reminded of every other time I settled down to my old, battered copy of Frankenstein. I love the little notes written at the side, certain pages folded over, tea spillage stains and slight rips and tears all over.

In my opinion, that is the sign of a well-loved book, and I can’t imagine the effect on literature if this aspect of reading were to be lost. When it comes to my books, the worse the condition, the more times it’s been read and, therefore, the better it must be. And I don’t think the iPad would be able to take that much damage.

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literature

sensual delights of the e-reader

M

uch has been written about both the consumer and cultural implications of the new generation of e-readers.

The product’s market potential, social symbolism and physical features have been thoroughly dissected. But what of the fundamentally different sensual experience which the eBook offers the reader? The deritualisation of reading necessitated by the device, the starkness and abstraction of text it dictates, must surely begin interpenetrate with the text itself.

Perhaps, helping us to negotiate a new reading experience and sense of text; else, distancing us from that text which once yielded to our hands.

Despite advances in electronic paper and ink simulation, e-readers still display their text through somewhat harsh, blue-white screens. Fragile LED displays, batteries and circuit boards must be protected; an unyielding and inflexible case is currently the only solution. In a traditional book, however, the diffusion of light on the matte finish of the text, combined with a lower contrast between the dark-brown ink on creamy-yellow paper, gives a softer character to the book as a whole. Paper is comparatively warm to the touch and yields to pressure, the result being a far more tactile product that readers surely prefer to hold and carry. Traditional materials also seem to be more appropriate for, and sympathetic towards, traditional texts.

The use of these traditional materials also demands your attention and care. If not held open, a book will slowly fold closed again. If a book is dropped, you will lose your page, and the paper is torn and marked easily. A neglected e-book, however, is held in a state of suspended animation, and the ritual of opening the book when you start reading, and closing it when you finish, does not exist. The text of

Lewis Anton Earl explores the impact of the e-reader upon the experience of reading

Reading text in this distanced format may lesson the accomplishment of reading itself an e-book is also physically distanced from the reader. The display has a noticeable depth, and the case holds the text in an inaccessible compartment; reading it is like reading a book through a window with someone else turning the pages for you.

Reading text in this distanced format may also lessen the accomplishment of reading itself. A long book is physically impressive, as is seeing your bookmark migrate from one side to the other, or feeling the weight shift from your right to your left hand.

Although e-books have pages, this sense of completion is lacking. The same excitement cannot possibly be engendered by an obscure ‘345/347’ floating in top-left of screen as is felt in the thrill of less then a dozen pages in your right hand.

These strict sensory dictates, necessitated by the rigid physicality of the e-reader, may ultimately jar with authorial intention. Some works are deliberately dense with references, obscure allusions and multiple discourses. The e-book’s spatialisation of both page and text may act to render such intentional entanglement and flow falsely discreet. Famously, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land features copious, and arguably satirical, endnotes which rival the length of the poem itself. When read with an eBook, Eliot’s subversion of classical allusion, indeed the system of references itself, may be lost in the very instantaneousness of page transition that the e-reader offers.

Alternatively, the experience of reading the work of some authors may be enhanced by the intensified sense of decontextualisation which this device proscribes. Samuel Beckett, for example, was always keen to emphasis the unreality of his work.

This starkness of the e-book, it’s jarring transitions and deritualisation of reading, may have cohered with Beckett’s self categorisation as ‘an analyser, [who] tried to leave out as much as [he] could’. Indeed, perhaps in our post-modern (or there abouts) age, the e-book could prove that which Beckett pressed for: a ‘form [to] accommodates this mess.’

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literature

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

the lit delusion

P

eople are always surprised to discover that many of my favourite books belong to the much-derided fantasy sub-genre of fiction. “But,” they exclaim, “you’re an English Literature student – surely that stuff isn’t literature?”

Simply put, it is assumed that “literary” fiction, in the form of the short story, novella or novel, focuses on character, style and psychological depth, while genre or popular fiction is condemned for focusing solely on plot and narrative: creating a pageturner to please the masses. For some, the idea of students of English Literature enjoying popular fiction more than “literary” fiction can be difficult to believe.

Yet I shouldn’t give people less credit than they deserve: for the majority of people, enjoying genre fiction isn’t anything strange. What is strange is the insistence that genre fiction can have equal, and indeed, more literary merit than those works we consider u “literature” in the oldest, most traditional sense.

Ever since we were children, my sister and I were encouraged to read anything and everything we could get our hands on: despite growing up amongst the same books, my sister soon developed a preference for books she saw were concerned with “character”, while she couldn’t understand my fascination with those she saw as concerned only with “action”, especially after I began to appreciate poetry and wanted to study English.

Yet she hadn’t read half the “genre” novels that I had, and what she didn’t realise was that there was often more to a fantasy novel, for example, than simply good vs evil and other clichéd stereotypes. Of course, many was the time when I got halfway through the first chapter of a genre novel and thought to myself, okay, this is ridiculous – but for every one of these there were two that meant something more than simple plot.

Myths were the first stories, allegories of the goings-on in the universe around us, and genre fiction is arguably the natural evolution of these.

Myths unify shared perspectives,

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Harriet Evans demystifies our literary snobbery values and history, but most importantly, literature. Communal tales connect us to one another and to our surrounding environment, and the thread of communal themes connects us to other cultures, too. Yet somewhere along the line we decided to relegate a lower position in our culture for such stories, instead hailing stylistic marvels and the characterdepth of “literary” fiction.

Despite this, it is common to find depth of character in fantasy and other genre novels – how else could they continue to be so popular? We’ve created the conflicted villain, the doubtful hero, a female character that isn’t just a flakey love interest blown about passively by ‘fate’, and often an unconventional ending that leaves the reader surprised, bewildered even, just as much as any “literary” novel can.

But plot is also essential – as the creators of our myths knew. I once read that there are six universal plot systems: these included scenarios

such as, “man vs nature”, “man vs woman”… and then “Proust” – where nothing actually happens.

This reflects the drawback to socalled “literary” fiction: it may be the most amazingly written, most interestingly styled and most psychologically plausible book in the world – but if nothing happens, it cannot tell us anything about ourselves: unless something happens in the novel, however small or insignificant, to change the character and the reader, it cannot be considered worth reading.

Here I must mention a book – ironically, not one of my favourites, but one that I think shows the combination of plot and character, genre and “literary”, remarkably well. The Ten Thousand, a fantasy novel by Paul Kearney, published by Solaris is an admirable work. On the surface, the novel looks simply to be a story of war and politics in a fantastical world.

There are historical references to ancient Greece and Persia, but even these are not enough to make the work stand out as anything special in a market flooded by similar works.

The final scenes are what give it its complexity and depth: they shattered all my preconceptions of the fantasy genre and showed me something new – that just because a novel may look and read like “paraliterature”, there’s no reason why it can’t think like literature.

I am of the firm belief that there is no simple divide between works concerned with “how you write”(literary) and “what you write” (genre). I don’t think it’s possible for a successful book to be wholly one or the other, and so I don’t think there is any reason why the study of English Literature students should be excluded from all interesting and provoking works of fiction – regardless of their labelling.

John Updike, an American writer of so-called “literary fiction”, quashed the “literary” elitism used to pigeonhole his work by stating that he believed all his works, and therefore the works of every writer, to be literary: because “they are written in words”.

And we can’t really argue with that, can we?

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Film

Also in this section: Anya Benson looks at various representations of nature on film, Sharon Coleclough samples visions of the future and Tom Shingler looks as the development of film

Short and to the Point: How Hollywood Blockbusters changed during the “Noughties”

2

010 began with a cultural retrospective of the “Noughties”, with shows detailing the ‘100 most shocking incidents with celebrities and peanut butter’ that featured talking heads you’ve never heard of clogging up BBC3’s viewing schedule.

Such lists for films were usually unsatisfactory, with critics complaining about the dominance of CGI interspersed with titillating shots of the latest Hollywood starlet. A favourite clip was Megan Fox spread over a motorcycle managing to be both the most useless yet also most in-demand mechanic simultaneously.

However the majority of these ‘best of’ shows for films missed what has been a prevailing change in the mindset of Hollywood blockbusters, and how these films are portrayed, advertised and directed at target audiences.

Without doubt the most influential event of the last decade was 9/11, the destruction of the World Trade Centre in New York and the hijacking of four planes by Islamic fundamentalists. The United States had previously been basking in a decade of halcyon balminess, convinced of its own superiority after the collapse of the Soviet Union. In the blockbusters of the nineties such as Die Hard with a Vengeance (1995), Independence Day (1996), Men in Black (1997) Deep Impact (1998) and Armageddon (1998), the threats that face the United States are not from any nation or religion, but from a mixture of crazed individuals with no rational motive, extraterrestrial foes or nature itself.

The unexpected brutality of the 9/11 attacks reminded America that there were people in the world still opposed to materialism and capitalism. The result was a cultural shift in Hollywood; evil was now ideological instead of national, without borders, affecting

Michael Tansini outlines emerging and evolving themes in Hollywood

citizens rather than the military.

This manifested itself in Hollywood in many different ways. At first films were unwilling to deal with the attacks in anything less than an oblique manner. Arguably the most notable early success in this age of uncertainty was Peter Jackson’s adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien’s trilogy The Lord of the Rings (2001-2003). Though in production since the mid 90s, its tale of evil being defeated against overwhelming odds in the face of corruption struck

A favourite was Megan Fox spread over a motorcycle, managing to be both the most useless and also most in demand mechanic simultaneously. a chord with its audience. The resulting slew of super-hero movies can be attributed to a public desperate for escapism, with clearly defined heroes and villains in the face of terrorism

and the resulting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Eventually blockbusters comparable to those of the nineties emerged, but radically altered.

Whereas previously heroes had fought for their country safe in the certainty they knew friend from foe, the identity of the enemy was now uncertain, fluid, and in the case of The Bourne Ultimatum (2007), within the United States government itself. Terrorists attacked on multiple platforms, engaging in guerilla warfare as well as targeting new infrastructure such as the internet.

The internet was at the forefront of a cultural shift in how people viewed their entertainment during the noughties, suddenly transformed from something geeks were bullied for at school into a worldwide phenomenon. The resulting mass of data being constantly uploaded and shared became a financial headache for Hollywood, epitomised by the infuriating ‘You wouldn’t steal a car…’ piracy adverts (one must ask how many people bought or downloaded films illegally not to have to sit through the tedium). As a result audiences became fragmented, and so advertising changed to catch target groups. The most common tactic is ‘viral marketing’; using a watchable clip to create buzz on the internet, with Cloverfield (2008) being one of the more impressive examples . Starting with a shakily shot scene involving the Statue of Liberty’s head and a lot of screaming, the films marketing strategy went beyond conventional posters and trailers, constructing interactive fake sites, products and treasure hunts, the combination of which lead to a fair, though not excessively impressive opening box office total. The success of viral marketing has proved to be hit and miss, with films like Snakes on a Plane (2006) generating enormous word-of-mouth (to the extent some articles heralded it at as a media

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film revolution with fan interaction in the script) by promising Samuel Johnson, a plane with some snakes. The film performed badly, mainly because the premise was rubbish. Viral marketing still stands or falls on the quality of the film.

One other, more disturbing aspect of audience fragmentation are soulless movies that Hollywood churns out with minimal characterisation, as shown by the Saw (2004 - ?) and ‘torture porn’ franchise aimed at a mainly teenage demographic. Horror films from the 70s and 80s were undeniably gory, but still managed to incorporate messages of social equality, with any novel idea erased in the face of bloody deaths that could be taking place in a video game. The films are now tired, and in the case of the Saw franchise so irredeemably awful that it is possible they are only earning money by the association of boobs and blood; like Pavlov’s dogs but with dismemberment.

This is the overall focus of Hollywood: the abandonment of challenging fare in the hope of its survival in dumb fun. The whole focus of marketing is now on the opening weekend – indeed the advertising is driven so they can claim a record opening box office. Witness the truly awful X Men: The Last Stand (2006) which claimed a record Labor Day box office total and was thus deemed a success, despite containing plot and dialogue so catatonically bad that Vinnie Jones wasn’t the worst part of the film. Com-

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2 pare this to King Kong (2005) which, although too long and homage-laden was a well-made remake. However, because receipts were only above average it was seen as a moderate failure. Although intelligent, successful films exist – witness Little Miss Sunshine (2006) being propelled from indie smash to $100 million plus overall revenue – the mindless ba-

nality of Transformers (2007) is still the order of the day. The one glint of hope in this regard is James Cameron’s Avatar (2009). Though it is far too similar to Dancing With Wolves (1990) with giant smurfs instead of Native Americans (as South Park has kindly pointed out) its receipts have been consistent week-in week-out instead of the first weekend spike then plummet. The new utilisation of 3D promises a new future in cinema, but cynicism wonders how much 3D is an exciting new transition or a shabby justification for an extra two pounds

on a cinema ticket. Let’s hope Avatar is an indicator of the forthcoming rule, rather than exception. claim a record opening box office. Witness the truly awful X Men: The Last Stand (2006) which claimed a record Labor Day box office total and was thus deemed a success, despite containing plot and dialogue so catatonically bad that Vinnie Jones wasn’t the worst part of the film. Compare this to King Kong (2005) which, although too long and homage-laden was a wellmade remake. However, because receipts were only above average it was seen as a moderate failure. Although intelligent, successful films exist – witness Little Miss Sunshine (2006) being propelled from indie smash to $100 million plus overall revenue – the mindless banality of Transformers (2007) is still the order of the day.

The one glint of hope in this regard is James Cameron’s Avatar (2009).

Though it is far too similar to Dancing With Wolves (1990) with giant smurfs instead of Native Americans (as South Park has kindly pointed out) its receipts have been consistent week-in week-out instead of the first weekend spike then plummet. The new utilisation of 3D promises a new future in cinema, but cynicism wonders how much 3D is an exciting new transition or a shabby justification for an extra two pounds on a cinema ticket. Let’s hope Avatar is an indicator of the forthcoming rule, rather than exception.

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

film

Nature’s Voice

T

he representations of nature we are used to in our world – or at least, in our political world – are of something silent and peaceful, isolated from the realities of human lives. It is depicted through gentle forests where we can be ‘alone’, vast oceans threatened by our decadent lifestyles, or as an endless planet that acts something like a giant storehouse, containing valuable resources for humans to use as we wish.

Discussions about nature within popular discourse comprise a multitude of perspectives and political inclinations, arising within the contexts of governments, the media, and activist groups.

Despite our clear preoccupation with the subject, discussions remain strikingly similar in frame: nature, as an entity, is to be protected, used, appreciated – terms that, if applied to human communities, imply paternalistic and/ or colonialist impulses.

But what if nature could speak? What if it could scream, or fight?

What if the tables (re-)turned, and dominating nature was not encoded as a question of ethics, but one of possibility?

In recent years a number of fantasy and science fiction films have taken on this issue, endeavouring to re-imagine a relationship between humanity and nature where the latter also has a voice. It threatens, taunts, cries and haunts its human other. James Cameron’s Avatar (2009) is perhaps the most recent example; the theme is also common in Japanese animated films such as Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke (1997) and Spirited Away (2001), and Keiichi Sugiyama’s Origin: Spirits of the Past (2006). It can be traced in Disney’s Prince Caspian (2008), and even (arguably) the characters of Calypso in Pirates of the Caribbean (2007). In these films nature rejects its over-determined role as defended object or coveted resource. The climactic battle of Avatar shows the planet itself rising against the invaders that seek to destroy and dominate it. In a similar fashion, Princess Mononoke displays a host of animal gods who fight to defend their territory against resource-hungry humans. Such religion-infused conflicts may represent something crucial to our de-animated

Anya Benson discusses nature’s voice as an impossible imagining world: they turn a silent subject without strength, agency, or moral consideration into a powerful force – one with desires, even demands.

And those demands are undeniably political in their expression. In the majority of these films, nature does not simply come ‘alive’; it becomes an activist for a crucial cause, usually its own self-preservation. Nature here has claimed – sometimes violently – what is beyond the imagining of most other popular discourses. It is through this unlikely activism that the representa-

tions of nature within these films raise fascinating questions about our political systems. A fundamental requirement of democracy is that many voices, even when opposing or contradictory, can be heard and recognised. Whatever other limitations might emerge, the democratic model relies on individual expression in a form acknowledged by

governing bodies. Without a voice that humans can hear, nature in our world exists necessarily outside of political systems.

Films like Avatar or Origin represent, often alongside disturbingly conservative sentiments, vivid imaginings of unheard voices. We are presented with compelling stories where impossible fantasy offsets deep political salience: trees and animals have tired of continual threat from uninformed or cruel humans, so they fight back and create spaces of their own. Sometimes they remain pitiable; for example, a scene in Spirited Away in which a human girl must purify a river god corrupted by pollution seems more tragic than liberating.

It must be noted that these fantasies are far from ideal. ‘Nature’ remains tenaciously sheltered in mystery throughout all the films mentioned, yet it invariably becomes anthropomorphised to some extent, assuming desires and demands generally reflective of what we would expect from a human group. Inscribing a recognisable political presence onto abstract environmental or religious concepts possibly requires the addition of identifiable human traits, but such anthropomorphism limits our imaginings to the realm of the familiar. We should also question storylines that require the filmmakers to assume the role of speaker for the voiceless, and recognise that these representations may simply further the political agendas of the filmmakers, or create an excuse to film impressive battle scenes.

Despite this, these films ask us to imagine, and imagining gives birth to vital questions.

Whose voices are absent from our democracies? Can true democracies exist when so many voices are left out of both human communities fighting for recognition, and non-human beings who could never conceivably demand recognition?

And what if they could demand?

What would they fight for? Would they fight at all? Ultimately, our impossible imaginings may leave us with impossible questions: how can we incorporate into our political systems a recognition of that which exists outside politics?

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

film

through a different lense

“W

e are all interested in the future, for that is where we are going to spend the rest of our lives” - so speaks Criswell in Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer-Space (1959). Criswell is indeed correct, but what future is a question film makers have experimented with for decades. From the beginning of narrative cinema with Georges Méliès through to visions of an alternate/future reality as offered within James Cameron’s Avatar (2009), technology has governed these visions in a number of palpable ways.

One might think that posing the question “what will happen next” would provide a creative resource infinite in possibilities, but many film makers have felt that any visions of the future should be grounded within the present environment. This relationship to the “now” produces in some cases a curious attachment in terms of the miséen-scene, and an inability to future gaze when it comes down to hardware and connectivity. Although virtuosic in its vision and scope, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927) depicts cars and flying machines which clearly reflect their early 20th century counterparts, while the city (more easily defined, guided and manipulated) offers glimpses of massive sky scrapers, whilst also providing inspiration for future films like The Fifth Element (1997) in terms of its setting and overall construction. Metropolis manages the feat which eluded many filmmakers in the intervening years; to see the new and shining juxtaposed with the old and tarnished (the Tower of Babel and the Cathedral). There is optimism in Lang’s view that not everything will be destroyed; we will in the future surely build around, within and alongside existing structures, as well as clearing the old for some of the new. The futures he has created for Metropolis and Frau im Mond (1929) display the impact of contemporary filmmaking technology in realising their environments, with what

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Sharon Coleclough derives meaning from vivid imaginings of the future

can be created now cinematically effecting how the future will be imagined visually. Attached to this is an interesting perpetuation of the social norms of the film’s production period, mixed with a feeling of whether the future has indeed been captured in a palatable and understandable form. Stanley Ku-

What can be created now cinematically affects how the future will be imagined visually. brick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) is a wonderful example of the futuristic gaze tamed by attachment to the now; women know their place and buttons control all (with the assistance of some neon and dials). Although based on the shared knowledge of a huge number of companies and identified at the time as one of the soundest visions of future life, there is much that conclusively an-

chors 2001 to its time of creation.

The time of creation also gives opportunity to the exploration of contemporary fears. Much is made of the futures’ dystopic possibilities, indeed without such a battle there would sometimes be no narrative. Films have dwelled on the range of fears which have plagued contemporary audiences, from the effect of nuclear war found in Soylent Green (1973) and the price to be paid for acceding to the management of machines motivating The Terminator (1984), to the consequences of genetic engineering in Gattaca (1997) and the ever tempting consideration of space exploration even Georges Méliès considered this one! Present and future visions collide in Soylent Green which offers a strangely pertinent perspective with no affirmative ending or utopian equality. Literature is dead, food is scarce, and the devastation felt from over population and the greenhouse effect is seen in the city’s slums. The film offers an interesting and unexpected exploration of these now familiar themes, given the time of production. Also relatable and less pessimistic are the opportunities of escape afforded by virtual space; what we cannot achieve in reality, we will subsubstitute for its pixel driven parallel. With Avatar and a reboot of Tron expected in 2010, it seems the future could also hold a computer driven reality both literally and metaphorically given today’s reliance on the microchip. As CGI dominates the film world’s identification and creation of the future, we can see the effect again of attachment to now offered in the “then”. Although it makes the impossible possible it still attaches us as filmgoers to a moment; a time when CGI and in turn digital offered and controlled our perceptions, potentially becoming it’s own realisation of tomorrow.

Whether we will see the stars and travel within a utopian possibility is unknown, but it is clear that cinema’s relationship with the future will continue as long as we have a hope that technology will in the end offer something more.

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

film

visions of the future

M

ost of us have been to Alton Towers and visited the 3D cinema which makes the middle of your forehead tingle and ended up leaving less than impressed, but 3D has evolved in a big way. With films like Avatar becoming the biggest grossing film of all time, it would be foolish to ignore the significant impact this new craze could have in the film industry (before it inevitably gets replaced with something better in a couple of years).

With Channel 4’s rather disappointing 3D week I was ready to give up on adding another dimension to my telly, but that wasn’t the ‘true’ 3D of today. Long gone are the days of the kitsch red and green cardboard glasses that always fall off, now we have a stylish, tinted pair of plastic glasses making everyone in the audience look like celebrities or like they’re watching a rocket launch.

The film isn’t plagued with a garish red and green anymore, and the 3D aspect of production is more involved with giving the illusion of perspective within the screen, rather than things coming out of it.

But why the sudden interest in 3D cinema? If we look at the last big boom in the film industry, it happened in 1930’s Hollywood during the Great Depression. We have just come out of recession now, so the reason 3D is so big could be because it’s a good way to escape the horrors of our penniless society (although at £8 a ticket it’s probably not the most economical way to do it). It could also be a way to combat internet piracy; turning a film into an experience that can’t be replicated on your laptop at home makes downloading a far inferior option. Whatever the reason, it seems like 3D is beginning to establish itself nicely into cinemas across the country.

The Golden era of 3D film was the 1950’s, in the days where most films involved people being terrorised by a 10,000ft woman or giant squids from beneath the deep. The first colour 3D films began to come out, and while it may look comically poor to our modern selves, at the

Tom Shingler traces the contours of visual technology

time it was the pinnacle of technology and wowed the masses over in America. Fast-forward to the 80’s during the next 3D boom when IMAX was born, which gave the public a new way of seeing 3D: on a huge high definition screen with incredibly loud audio. Now 3D is back in its third reincarnation, revamped with technology that James Cameron had to wait twelve years for. Steven Spielberg is even in the process of making a 3D television you don’t need glasses in order to experience, so it may soon become a household norm; we could all be talking on our 3D phones and watching videos on our 3D iPods in a matter of years.

Is 3D really anything to get excited about though? It’s not really 3D; the film doesn’t surround and

immerse the viewer simulating real life, it just makes the things in the distance look like they actually are in the distance. However, big business is certainly interested, investing millions of dollars into the 3D industry. It only costs five million to convert a film into the 3D format and usually brings in around an extra fifty million profit, meaning producers are on board as well; the final Harry Potter films are both being shown in 3D, and it could soon be the case that every major feature is released with a 3D counterpart.

Three dimensions may be enough for now, but what might its successor be? Futuroscope in France is basically a cinema theme park (it’s unfortunately as fun as it sounds) that has been showing films similar to Avatar in technological terms for years. Their ‘4D’ cinemas have been imitated by theme parks across the world, which attempt to add another dimension of realism by strapping you into a chair that relentlessly jolts you around throughout the film as you are sprayed in the face with water and blinded by flashing strobe lights whenever something exciting is about to happen.

I hope this isn’t the direction film will eventually take; you can imagine your grandchildren thinking you are very boring and old fashioned for wanting to watch a film sitting in a normal chair eating popcorn without having to prepare yourself for a nonstop two hour event which will probably leave you bruised and disillusioned for days after.

It really is amazing how fast we have progressed in visual technology recently. It took us thirty years to go from black and white to colour, then another thirty to turn digital, but just ten years to develop a penchant for high definition, on demand viewing, and now 3D. It’s a good job the TV’s themselves are getting bigger as well; TV has become HDTV, and if Spielberg gets his way, every television on earth will soon have 3DHDTV emblazoned across the bottom of their screen.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Politics

Also in this section: Dominic Mantle on cleaning out the cabinet.

Up in arms As arms manufacturer BAE systems faces a record fine relating to the allegedly corrupt Al-Yamamah arms deal, Freddy Vanson makes a passionate critique of the arms industry

T

he arms industry is one of the biggest global industries; the world spends some $1,000 billion annually on the military and military expenditure out strips nearly every other sector of business, more than anything we spend on public services and welfare institutions. In more recent years, annual sales of arms have risen to around $50-60 billion. Big business treats war, and the deaths of millions, as another ‘market’ to be exploited for profit.

The military industrial complex is just another arena of business, an opportunity for corporate oligarchies to increase financial revenue.

Often, the only thing that matters in the trade deals brokered between arms companies and any militia is that they have the money to pay for the expensive weapons.

The cost to life, the many murdered with these arms, is rarely factored in the cost of production.

You’ll find the people (normally white, middle-aged, corporate men) claiming that we need to spend millions of pounds on weapons, for ‘national security’ reasons, are often the same people paid off and propped up by business and military elites.

It’s these same sorts of people, earning a living from the arms trade, who claim that the world would be a safer place if everyone had a firearm; that peace and equality can only come from building more tanks, bombs and nuclear weapons. And yet it’s funny how you’ll rarely see the

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people making most of the blood money fighting on the front line.

But away from the sanitised commercial media outlets, and with little investigation, you will find that when businessmen say ‘defence’ industry they really mean attack industry. It’s also intriguing how little we hear or read about acts of ‘state terrorism’, the wars waged for commercial ventures. Not surprisingly it’s mostly well paid government lobbyists and military analysts from arms companies behind the commercial propaganda machine powering a global industry

of war.

The invasion of Iraq and the occupation of Palestine have earned large companies like BAE Systems huge sums of money from arms sales to American, British and Israeli forces. Not to mention the sales to all the various armed services of other corrupt governments. The U.K is the 4th largest arms supplier in the world with sales in arms close to $27 billion (2008), a large proportion going to developing nations. Some people make billions of pounds from arms sales, whilst the vast majority of people are left for dead, or live in abject poverty, surrounded by a world of war and violence.

The arms trade perpetuates

cycles of war to make ever greater profits; this is the ugly truth we choose to ignore. The term ‘defence industry’ is a complete hoax, a scam to have us believe we need weapons of mass destruction for our own security, a trick to con us into believing it’s in our interests to waste vast amounts of public money on stock piles of nuclear weaponry.

It is common knowledge that large corporations don’t particularly care who they sell to, they are indiscriminate arms dealers selling to whoever bids the highest price. Arms companies take stock of local antagonisms and global rivalries between differing factions and sell to both sides of the map to maximise profit. Not to mention all the corruption that goes with it, illegal arms deals, bribery and government payoffs.

Without the many millions of arms around the globe, disproportionately sold to the side with more wealth and power, mass genocide could not happen on the scale it has done. The massacre of many thousands of Palestinian and Lebanese women and children in Beirut between 198287 is just one such case. We are still witnessing a mass-genocide taking place in Gaza today because of a well-equipped Israeli military, supported by British and U.S governments.

To solve the problem of ‘terrorism’ we need to plough money, time and dedication into public services and community development projects, not just

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

nationally but globally. Surely things such as free education for all children, better health services and greater employment opportunities, good working conditions and fair pay, a more equal distribution of wealth are the real answer.

Ending the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and upholding civil liberties and human rights through democratic judicial structures seem more reasonable suggestions to make when attempting to tackle inequality and injustice. This could be set into motion as social policy, instead of in an arms industry and a foreign policy of war.

Most ordinary people seek freedom from military oppression and tyrannical leaders. Much of the world’s poor have struggled for generations to be free from the chains of violence, exploitation, discrimination, prejudice and a lack of opportunities. They have been oppressed at every turn by the military invasions of imperialist empires seeking to gain the riches of the land. Arms companies have capitalised on this, selling cheap weapons to desperately poor communities having to arm themselves against imperial invaders.

Many rightly argue that the growth of the arms industry can only result in larger numbers of

mass-murder victims and many more bloody wars over territory and resources; hence disarmament is the only way forward. A symbolic act that would say to the world we don’t want to invest in an immoral industry of armed warfare.

It is our right to live free from tyranny and exploitation, it is wrong and undemocratic for small elite groups to use brutal ‘force’ to wield political and economic power over a working class - in other words to use violent military attacks to suppress democratization and a voice for those deprived of basic human rights to a decent quality of life.

Yet the arms industry only serves to exasperate political rivalry and social antagonisms.

Stirring up tensions and creating a market for intolerance, where education might heal the mental scars of oppression and inclusion might mend the rifts between members of society.

Every day we take for granted the civil liberties we are afforded by years of dedicated campaigning and protesting. To achieve the basic rights to a fair trial before the law and the minimum wage, welfare services and benefit schemes, a national health service and the vote many lost their lives. But when weapons are used to quell an opposition

politics

campaigning for social justice and the right to live free from domination, arms companies are only too happy to supply arms to any political authority keeping them in business.

When it’s from our bank accounts that money is ending up in the pockets of large arms companies, and us who profit from war, we must act. When our governments and business institutions decide to spend billions of tax payers’ money on military weapons, like Apache helicopters worth at least £49,000,000 (which produce a great many casualties and fatalities) we must stop this corruption and profligacy. And when the British government sells arms to corrupt military regimes, like Hawk Jets to the Suharto regime of Indonesia used to kill thousands in East Timor, I think it is our moral duty to speak out.

An arms industry that produces and distributes greater numbers of technologically advanced weaponry is not going to stop people fighting, but investing in education, jobs and a more equal distribution of wealth and power might. The increased manufacture and distribution of weapons in the name of profit is a disgrace to humanity and is jeopardising the possibility of a world without unnecessary violence.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

politics

How many unelected Lords can you fit in a Cabinet?

Dominic Mantle asks what the effect of having too Mandy lords can be on democracy

T

oday one of the most influential politicians in the country, Peter Mandelson is treated as a near cult figure by the media. He initially contributed to the landslide electoral victory of New Labour in 1997, and he has now twice come back from the political dead. Fair enough, you might say, everybody deserves a third chance. The problem is that Gordon Brown, in his eagerness to attract a kiss of life for his ailing premiership, with his October 2008 reshuffle in which Mandelson rose yet again, decided that the fact his former enemy was no longer an MP need not be an obstacle. He was instead handed an emergency life peerage, a huge and still growing amount of power and several long-winded titles. However, First Secretary of State, Secretary of State for Business, Innovation and Skills, etc, etc Mandelson is not the only Cabinet member who sits in the Lords rather than the Commons. As of another desperate reshuffle in June 2009, four others, Lords Adonis and Drayson and Baronesses Scotland and Royall, now also variously attend cabinet meetings. Since that time, a very important question has been hanging in the air, and few have raised their hands to ask it. Is the practice of including Lords in the Government, and especially the Cabinet, compatible with the concept of democracy?

It is certainly surprising that there has not been more of a debate about the ramifications for claims of Britain being a democratic polity whilst Brown is using Lords in his Cabinet.

This would seem to be down to some notion that the House of Lords is just as good as the Commons but with the furniture moved around a bit and generally older, occasionally moribund

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The Lords in this exhibit have been removed for cleaning.

They will be returned shortly.

people sitting on it. In fact there is another obvious but vital difference; Lords are unelected. They exist as an anachronism, in some cases also a bastion of privilege, and do so at the behest of politicians rather than the people. While over the centuries the Commons has come to assume the most powerful role in Parliament in place of the Monarchy, rightfully reflecting their respective mandates to legislate, the Lords has retained a great deal of power, illustrated perfectly by the present-day role or indeed roles of Mandelson. It has also come to serve as a means for a Prime Minister to legitimise their promotion of unelected individuals to power, through the creation of peerages.

It was reported that Gordon Brown would not have been able to complete the aforementioned Cabinet reshuffles without resorting to offering jobs to Lords, but it is arguable he should not have been able to do so. Many former ministers sitting in the Commons including Hazel Blears, James Purnell and Caroline Flint had resigned in protest at Brown’s leadership style and over fears that, under it, Labour is heading for electoral oblivion, leaving him with few credible alternatives. But what are crucial are the comparative amounts of power that Cabinet members and MPs hold.

In exchange for his loyalty, Blairite credentials and political nous, Mandelson was awarded a place at the very top of government. He is a member of 35 of the 43 Cabinet committees and sub-committees, more even than the Prime Minister. Though he has been an MP before and more recently an EU commissioner, he is unelected in his most recent incarnation. The average MP, on the other hand, though necessarily elected, wields a fraction of his decision making power.

It is curious then that, while the media, speaking on behalf of the people, of course, are so determined that our democratic values be upheld in other areas of life such as television phone-in competitions, little mention has been made of our predicament. In his final address last year to a Labour Party conference before the 2010 general election, the Prime Minister did very briefly suggest, probably for the ensuing applause, that he intended to create a democratic and accountable second parliamentary chamber, which would offer a belated resolution to the problem. However, neither Labour or the Tories are likely to do so following the election, and any manifesto claims to the contrary must unfortunately be treated with cynicism.

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Arts

Also in this section: Katie O’Loughlin brings Men of the World back down to Leeds.

‘An oeuvre you can’t refuse’

O

n a typical walk around camonly implied, yet the admiring solpus we are often bombarded dier could be her next customer. A with a whole host of political sociepair of gambling men quarrel as the Oliver Fearon explores ties all vying for your individual alwinner reaches for his winnings. Inlegiance and support. On an occaside the Royal Oak, two politicians Hogarth’s picture of 18th voraciously devour large quantities sion they may even advertise a free dinner or offer a complementary of food, punned by Hogarth as he Century politics wine reception. These generous likens their bestial consumption to incentives can all be very enticthat of the animal kingdom in the ing. These offerings, however, are depiction of the feasting Lion. The nothing in comscene is based parison with loosely around William Hogathe turbulent rth’s paintings Oxfordshire of bribery and election of 1754; corruption that we see a mob provide a caplaying siege to tivating picture the Whig headof eighteenth quarters in the century political distance that apscandal. Hogaparently does not rth’s 1755 oil disturb those in painting, and the foreground later engraving, of the picture.

‘Canvassing for At this stage the Votes’ rather political climate humorously ilhad already delustrates the scended into exartful deceptreme violence tion of political and is given a propaganda, visual metaphor which ubiquiin the form of tously adorned approaching Hogarth’s sostorm clouds. ciety. The poHogarth’s keen Before photography, artists like Hogarth made litical unrest and no doubt extensive use of taxidermists. is immediately coldly humorous discernible outperception of his side the Royal Oak Inn, where a sized as the Local Tory candidate, society was one that has continually coerced farmer sweats underneath to the left of the farmer, purchases influenced political satirists to the a satirical propaganda sign depict- expensive trinkets to appease his present day. ‘Canvassing for Votes’ ing the follies of the Whigs. A direct lascivious desires; found in the fer- is the second painting in a series of link can be read between sign and vent onlookers from the balcony. four that chronologically document transaction; the satirical gesture Indeed the message of the picture a parodic election of a member of of the Whig on the sign as Punch is clear: anything can be obtained parliament. The entire story can be (of Punch and Judy) buying votes at the right price. enjoyed at York Art Gallery. There, with coins from his wheelbarrow, Equally as significant is Hoga- in the South Gallery, you can view a is hypocritically similar and di- rth’s commentary on the social complete set of original engravings rectly above the Tory’s injection conditions of the times. The self- of ‘The Election Entertainment’ into the bribing of the farmer. Yet concerned proletariat is as indul- series. The engraved medium enthe greedy farmer is not at all hum- gent as the politician: on the far hances Hogarth’s narration with a ble in his way, as he holds out his left we see a soldier spying an at- richly dramatic angle, and states hands to receive both bribes. The tractive young maiden who counts the artist’s bold observations of his hypocrisy is only further empha- her hard earned wage. Her trade is sensationally, tumultuous society.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

arts

‘Only a one-nighter’ After seeing a flat production, Kaite O’Loughlin argues Godber needs to expand his horizons and his characters John Godber’s 2002 play Men of the World has been praised as both clever and perceptive. Yet its performance at York Theatre Royal, by the Hull Truck Theatre Company, exposed its ultimate short-sightedness. Godber’s capacity for perception is ultimately limited to recognising and recreating simplistic northern stereotypes. Three actors play bus drivers who have worked together in the same travel company for years. Their tenure with the company and experience of its passengers constitutes the entirety of their personas and the play’s action. These three middle aged weary northerners, two male and one female, narrate their experiences, directly addressing the audience.

They frequently impersonate their charges to animate their anecdotes. The play is meant to be funny and moving as it provides an accurate depiction of these people’s lives (drivers and passengers alike) and acts as a synecdoche for the particular type of people they represent- from Yorkshire, past the point of middle age, working class. But this is the problem. It relies on the idea of a type, determined by class, place and age which has given rise to common reference points and experiences.

The characters Godber has written, both his protagonists and the passengers they recreate, are recognisable because they are composed of trite clichés and common stereotypes. He achieves comic moments through use of

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catchphrases, scatological references, and common reference points, such as place and brand names. All of which call upon recognition rather than perception, familiarity and identification not insight and realisation.

The audience can identify the characters as old, neurotic, irrational, complaining; they are endowed with familiar traits giv-

Not so Godber

ing the impression that they are realistic and well drawn but they are far from well observed fully formed human beings. They are one dimensional, superficial, simply excuses for cheap gags.

The characters break wind, complain of spurious physical ailments, leer at female sixth formers, go out to smoke. The list of inane common day occurrences goes on, it could provide an apt synopsis of the entire play.

Godber’s social realism lacks the imagination of his fellow ob-

servers of everyday life. Peter Kay references familiar experiences in his anecdotal stand-up but recounts these experiences with creativity, adding a new dimension to everyday phenomena.

While The Royle Family perceptively portrays the absurdities of domestic familial life through naturalistic acting, fly-on-thewall filming and genuinely witty characters. It too uses the key apparatus of effective satire: recognition, but its portrayal of recognisable characters, conversation and situations are insightful and imaginative thus the viewer experiences a heightened sense of awareness of the absurdity of these characters’ behaviour.

The logic, attitudes and humour of the characters is familiar but their portrayal is unique to them and is therefore truly anecdotal. Men of the World relies on simply parading certain familiar features of archetypal characters rather than revealing them in a new way, as such its portrayals are mundane and tiresome.

The comic techniques of the play add to the sense that its effect is purely formal; the audience recognises something that is supposedly funny and laughs.

Godber uses predictable reversals to create comedy, such as “Happy Larry” being a “grumpy old sod”, and the bathetic line: “You’d think they were going round the world. Look at this lot! (indicating luggage) It’s only a one-nighter in Scarborough!”. This technique of juxtaposing a glamorous concept with the reality of the charac-

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

arts

A bus driver, with a leather sweater-vest. Possibly drunk.

ters unassuming environment to create a comic moment is used often. The comedy of the play is achieved through recycling such tired formulas. The oldest bus driver, Larry has a catchphrase- “nearly there”- which is another weak contrivance. It is

Godber’s social realism lacks the imagination of his fellow observers of everyday life unlike Jim Royle’s catchphrase: “my arse”, which does not feel like a mechanism chosen to illicit laughter when used, but a natural inflection of his personality. Larry’s “nearly there” is commented on by his colleagues to depict his character: “Nearly there? That’s what they ought to call him, he’s forever saying it”, and therefore feels like an arbitrary attribute designed to give

depth to his persona through reference to specific detail. Yet the saying does not animate his character in particular by revealing anything unique about him as all share the weary joyless outlook this phrase denotes.

It could be used by the bus drivers, the characters, even the audience who may well be looking forward to the relief of the play’s denouement.

It is the bus drivers who create the other characters through their narration, they are therefore responsible for the opinion the audience forms of them which is clearly intended to be ironic. However, they lack the capacity to comment on their subjects through an implicit attitude in their acting, a sort of Brechtian gestus, as they are the same as the characters they describe. They use the same clichés- “for as long as anybody can remember”, “what that bloke doesn’t know about Mario isn’t worth knowing”- moan at the same things and lack self awareness. As such their recreation of their passengers lacks a motive.

Their condescension towards

the travellers feels mechanical.

It simply serves the purpose of pointing out the humour of their passengers for the audience.

Their disrespect is pointless. Irreverence only has bite when directed towards those for whom respect is usually reserved.

The comedy is achieved through recycling tired formulas and using weak catchphrases When directed at the dour inconsequential subjects of the play it is weak and ineffective.

Despite its good intentions, Men of the World is similarly weak and ineffective. Its humour and characterisations are superficial and unimaginative. They rely too heavy on common references and stereotypes rather than adding anything new and inventive to the theatrical landscape.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Music

Also in this section: Joe Walsh works those feet, Tom West rips off those skinny jeans and Chris Dietz on the pains of love

Can You Handel It? Isobel Cowper-Coles considers the significance of one of Handel’s most well-known works

D

uring my choir rehearsal on Wednesday night, I was bemused to discover a somewhat unusual addition to our repertoire.

The tune I knew very well, it being that of Handel’s Messiah. However, the words had been changed, creating a piece that was effectively making fun of the original version. Or rather, making fun of the numerous choirs who chose to perform this work year after year, making the Messiah one of the most common British choral works.

It led me to wonder why it is still viable for choirs to do a performance of this choral work nearly every Christmas. Do they feel an affinity for the piece, or are they just adhering to the obligation of tradition?

Whatever the reason, there is no sign whatsoever of audiences tiring of the piece.

The libretto is drawn from the Bible by Charles Jennens, a literary scholar of Oxford, and interprets the Christian doctrine of the Messiah – that is, Jesus Christ. The main events of Christ’s life, from his birth to his death and resurrection, and his final triumph over death and sin, were selected somewhat randomly to enhance Handel’s musical settings. However, the most commonly-sung version today comprises only the first three parts of the oratorio, with the Hallelujah chorus being almost universally recognised.

The piece was originally performed at Lent but since Handel’s death it has been common practice for it to be sung in Advent, despite its devotion to the death and resurrection of Christ.

So why does this inherently religious choral work have such a secure place in today’s increasingly secular and commercialised society?

This at first seems a rather foolish question. We still enjoy carol singing and seasonal services such as Christingle and Easter Sunday. However, the steadily-decreasing rate of church attendance, and the disregard for the

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true religious meaning of Christmas should surely confine this choral piece to the long-gone past, when Sundays of consolidation with the Bible.

What has prevented this is that the Messiah in fact places very little emphasis on the religious meaning of its narrative. It is a dramatic piece, which appeals to the wider audience through its expression of a wide range of universally-felt emotions. It leaves

audience uplifted, something which Handel achieves through his unique technique of word painting (where the melody reflects the meaning of the words) and use of memorable tunes.

His intuitive sense of what audiences would enjoy has meant that this work has never stopped being performed.

He can also be seen as the innovator of many conventions that are commonplace today. The first performance of the Messiah, and indeed many others, were in aid of charitable causes, something unusual for the eighteenth century. Handel displayed furtherfore-sightedness in deciding to use a woman to sing the lower

female part, instead of the castrati which was customary. This was met with great disapproval at the time, as women who appeared on stage were thought to be of dubious reputation.

1742 saw the first performance of the work in Dublin. Handel considered it too risky to be performed in London, in view of the Bishop of London’s outrage that cathedral choristers had sung his earlier oratorio ‘Esther’.

Many people disapproved of Handel’s work, seeing it as profane and subversive.

This is almost certainly what has ensured Handel’s enduring popularity into the twenty-first century.

But there are deeper reasons for its enduring affiliation with the British people.

Born and trained in Germany, and achieving musical mastery and success in Italy suggests that Handel chose Britain as the nation on which to bestow the bulk of his musical masterpieces.

He was very popular with the Royal Family, and the many stories surrounding the tradition of standing for the Hallelujah chorus point towards King George IV as being the founder of this.

The Messiah is a permanent feature of our Christmas season, but Handel is also seen as a key figure in British patriotism and culture. The large number of people who are not regular churchor classical concert-goers, but attend a performance of Handel’s Messiah every year suggests that the British people feel a strong affinity towards this German-born composer who chose Britain as his home for nearly five decades. There are many possible reasons for the continuing popularity of the Messiah, which I can leave you as the reader to ponder over.

What I want to end on is the optimistic thought that in thirty years’ time, three centuries after the first performance, Handel’s Messiah will be still be a feature of the festive season enjoyed by just as wide an audience.

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

music

The Warm Heart of Africa L

et’s face it, music says a lot about how cultural you are. I have always wanted to be a man who could appreciate classical music, but I fear I’m not wholesome enough an individual, since despite my efforts it still leaves me cold. However, the introduction to a completely different genre of music, African music, has changed my life forever. Now I exude culture: I wear cravats, I drink port, I have a monocle which frequently falls off when faced with the youth of today. Essentially what I’m trying to say is: I am culture.

Alright, maybe I’m not quite the personification, but I certainly feel more cultural after having listened to such definitive music as that hailing from Africa. African artists embrace their culture in a way different to bands of the West. Western music lacks the distinctive instruments and political upheaval that has consumed African society for many years, both of which are elements fundamental to their music. This is not to say that I do not like our own music, simply that different elements fuel the different genres, and it is interesting to view a wide scope of what the world has to offer.

Babatunde Olatunji was an African percussion master who incorporated jazz, African culture and social activism into his music. Raised in Africa, he moved to America in 1950. Here, he made waves in Harlem, garnering recognition for his unique sound, created through a blend of his own and the American culture. His music is hard to get hold of now, though he is still much loved and thought of as a pioneer for many other African artists after him. His music is heavily driven by percussion, “Takuta” beinga prime example of his use of native percus-

Joe Walsh travels the world with his iPod sion instruments, whilst combining this autochthonic sound with the specifically western saxophone, drums and trumpet. This blend allowed for a deeper sound which spoke to its listeners of the time. Olatunji was also renowned for his political speeches: his song, Aiye Mire, is an impassioned beat poem driven by his objection to the nuclear weapons of the modern era, based on the moral that: “It is most important that we all come together and make sure that all the destructive weapons in the arsenals of the great powers are completely destroyed”. Preachy, idealistic – yes.

But a beautiful ideal nonetheless.

Olatunji died in 2003, but his music inspired many other African artists. An African band that are still running today is Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou, a funk band originally started in 1960 which had a great influence upon the afropop and afrocuban scene in the West. They fuse funk with their native language, though usually incorporating only western instruments. They are still touring, the band never dying despite the loss of many of their members – including Lohante Eskill, an early lead singer of the band who makes their earlier songs better than their more recent works for his unerring enthusiasm on stage and his James Brown-like

voice. The more modern African artists are how I was introduced to this genre – initially Esau Mwamwaya, a man who worked with Belgian producer duo “Radioclit” to create the band “The Very Best”. It is modern afro-western pop, spoken in both English and Chichewa (the language of Malawi), and featuring collaborations with various artists. Their first album, “Esau Mwamwaya and Radioclit are The Very Best”, is available for free online, so it is certainly worth a gander. It pays homage to M.I.A and Vampire Weekend, integrating their songs with Mwamwaya’s native culture. It is an incredible album, followed up by another cracking record – songs like “Warm Heart of Africa”, “Kamphopo” and “Salota” are particular favourites. A similar collaboration is that of Extra Golden – two Americans and two Kenyans. In my eyes, it is hard for any African band of the same genre to beat The Very Best, but it is still worth a listen to forge your own opinion. Further still, the duo Amadou and Mariam, a blind couple who supported Blur on tour last year, show no signs of slowing down, creating their own sub-genre that has become known as “Afro-blues”.

When I find a new song that I can’t stop playing, I am excited. When I find a new band that I can’t get enough of, I can barely contain myself. But when a whole genre of which I was previously ignorant presents itself to me, I feel like I am being hugged by a puppy made of sunshine.

And as we all know, that’s just about the greatest feeling in the world.

It just frustrates me that I barely know a word any of them are saying.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

music

Getting Emotional

T

he emo scene has been over-run.

The fact is that now most people would class My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco as emo bands, whilst classing The Jazz June as a record from the 1950’s, or referring to Harriet the Spy as simply a kid’s book.

This warped view of a great variation of punk is due in part to the limited production of vinyl records, which feature amazing hand-made sleeves and inserts, and as such are restricted to label mail order catalogues and gig sales. Emo never gained widespread mainstream recognition, despite the success of bands like Sunny Day Real Estate, Jawbreaker and Jimmy Eat World, who were originally associated with the scene before they turned into a pop-punk band to get big. Emos certainly never wore skinny jeans, black clothes or guyliner, and definitely did not promote self-harm or suicide..

In the late 1980’s, punk-rock bands began to spring up in Washington D.C, playing a chaotic yet melodic breed of post-hardcore that became known as ‘emotional hardcore’ or ‘emocore’. Influenced by punk and hardcore bands of the time like Quicksand and Hüsker Dü, these bands sang tales of regret, isolation and despair. It struck a chord with the disillusioned American youth of the 1990’s, who abandoned the grunge scene and sought this alternative underground. Hailing from Maryland, Moss Icon helped to pioneer the soft-hard dynamic that defines many emo and screamo songs.

The heyday of the scene was in the early- to mid-90’s in house gigs all over mid-western America. Bands like Mineral, Christie Front Drive, The Promise Ring, Jejune and Rainer Maria honed the brash hallmarks of emocore into intricate melodies that sparkled with hope, whilst preserving the raw emotion of their precursors.

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Tom West combats our ill-informed conceptions of the emo genre Parallel to this, in several other States the emo scene was gaining momentum: on the west coast, Evergreen, heavily influenced by Maryland punk band The Hated, produced some of the finest music of the period, releasing their incredibly rare “Seven Songs LP” (only 600 were pressed and half were left on the roadside on tour).

Crying became a feature of many live shows at around this time: during the most intense moment of a song the singer would often break down, overcome by emotion along with members of the crowd, something which led to the stigma attached to emo music.

Screamo was a term introduced to refer to emo bands which incorporated screaming into their songs, such as Antioch Arrow and Portraits of Past, usually at the breakdown of a song.

With a style deeply rooted in both hardcore and emo, screamo also drew heavily on post-punk bands like PiL and Joy Division, applying the same discordance and sparse anxiety to equally great effect. Some of the more frenzied bands were influenced heavily by grindcore and power-violence, forging an abrasive version of screamo that appealed to both the emo and hardcore crowd.

Taking the loud-quiet contrast that the emo band Slint excelled at, and combining it with sincere lyrics and a

scratched Bessie Smith record,Indian Summer crafted long songs that built up gradually until the climax, each member of the band tearing into their instruments in a jarring crescendo of gut wrenching screams and driving noise. Their seminal 7” releases are compiled on the discography Science, 9 untitled tracks that are known by their fan-created names. This album represents all that is beautiful and fantastic about screamo music.

Members of the band went on to form other influential bands from the scene including Shroomunion, Sinker and Amber Inn. Although the 90’s saw the peak of emo and screamo, the principles continue to this day through countless fansites and blogs, even on homeground. Warwickshire band What Price, Wonderland? is one of the best current British bands who fall under the umbrella of emo, grinding out a stripped-down brand of posthardcore. Kids Return From Exeter released “Tongue Tied LP” in 2007, which sold out from every distributor at an unprecedented speed and is considered amongst the finest albums of the genre.

The advances in ‘garage band’ production now shine through on modern emo records. But the majority of real emo and screamo records from the 80s and 90s were recorded on a shoestring budget and released on small labels that catered to the same scene, so many emo records from the early years are out of print and have been for many years. Any bands’ back catalogues are doomed to be preserved as poor quality vinyl-rip MP3s, uploaded by gloating collectors on fansites.

For fans of post-hardcore, punk and the supposedly ‘openminded’/’diverse’, I tell you now: try some real emo.

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

music

An Affair of the Heart Chris Dietz shares the painful experience of British band The Wedding Present

I

’ve often wondered whether I am alone in believing The Wedding Present’s Seamonsters to be a perfect concept album. To find out, I have compiled a chronology of events that are described in the 1991 masterpiece, with the hope of opening up the issue for debate. Criminally underrated, Seamonsters is a gripping tale of an affair between two unavailable adults. As distressing as it is engaging, the story is told with such passion and originality that I am astounded that it is talked about so little. David Gedge offers a naïve slant on a subject that can often be relayed in an incongruous manner, and hearing the tale from a broken male challenges perfectly the stereotype of the heartless adulterer. Indeed, whilst millions have identified with specific moments in The Smiths’ illustrious back catalogue, Morrissey’s glib fascination with the quaint and whimsical arguably undermines the sincerity of their finest albums. This could not be said of Seamonsters – where Morrissey drinks the whiskey of unrequited love on the rocks, Gedge swigs straight from the bottle.

We join the narrator reflecting on his lover’s decision to end their affair.

His lamentations over the presents that she can’t accept immediately invoke sympathy – feelings which are compounded by his vulnerable reluctance (or inability) to express himself in Dalliance (‘It’s not fair, after all you’ve done / that I’m so... / I still want to kiss you’). The crescendo that culminates in a tirade of drums and thick guitars illustrates both frustration and despair.

After wallowing, our rejuvenated protagonist meets his lover. He dares her to tell her husband, but she fails to embrace this carefree spirit. He reassures her that ‘nothing can go wrong, if you’re not here too long’ but then requests she ‘stay all night’ – longing to unveil their love in a manner that is reckless, but irrevocable. Invoking within the listener a desire to observe such an immoral act is one of the band’s great feats, akin to those summoned by J.G. Ballard and Georges Bataille in their great novels Crash and Story of the Eye. The curtain falls before any confrontation is realised, and our protagonist

is becoming more desperate in his reliance on this woman (‘Because I can’t fall asleep, even in my own bed / Until you’re near’). Whilst he acknowledges his adoration, the actual intercourse is portrayed parasitically: ‘There’s nothing I won’t do to feel your body sliding / All around me’, before he rages at the climax: ‘You suck it all right out of me’.

Emotions cool before the narrator bemoans a period of enforced abstinence in Blonde. The sense of loneliness, coupled with the shame of being ‘that naïve’ is easy to identify with.

Yet, he stands by his words, realising his anger in a blast of cacophonic drums that subside before the song calmly concludes (as it began) with reflective drums and a simple guitar.

The product of this deliberation is Rotterdam, an apologetic lament over the irreversibility of time. He regrets saying ‘so much yesterday’ that he shouldn’t have. ‘I know you’re sad / Believe me, I’m feeling bad / If I could change everything then I would do’ he hopelessly explains.

An anticlimactic shadow is cast over Lovenest. The affair has been brushed aside by his wife, with the revelation not having had the desired effect (‘I told her all about you and I don’t think she even cared’). This leads to confused feelings as he idealises the affair – paradoxically admitting that with his wife he ‘can’t help thinking back to, well, the way we were / Then I start feeling guilty lying next to her’.

The mood changes as Corduroy’s bouncy chorus is skilfully juxtaposed by sporadic distorted noise (shamelessly appropriated by Health in their 2009 album Get Colour). This music corresponds perfectly with the lyrics – strong is the temptation to live in denial. Our narrator rains promises: ‘And now I’ve kissed you, I’ll show you

how I’ve missed you’, before alluding to past heartache (‘It’snot from that day, I threw all those away’). This flashback is a smart lyrical device, foreshadowing further pain ‘I worshipped you once before, and you slammed thedoor’.

The lyrics of Carolyn are difficult to decipher, perhaps accentuating the ambiguity over which woman is being let go. ‘I don’t want to break your heart / But we just can’t turn the clock back’ the protagonist sings before following the repeated line of ‘don’t wait up for me’ with an authoritative ‘No more’.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately regrets this decision, worrying that the spurned woman went with another man to the Heather, ‘where we used to lie down when we were together’.

In an archetypal case of not-knowing-what-you’ve-got-till-it’s-gone, he cries, ‘I didn’t know how much I’d miss you until now / I didn’t know how much you mean to me somehow’.

Octopussy is an unconscious acknowledgement of man’s hopeless yearning for an emotional crutch.

Freudian themes are alluded to as he exaggerates the necessity of this woman’s existence. The conclusion of this album is a triumph of ambiguity – allowing the listener to feel optimistic, or the exact opposite. Personally, I infer an impending doom, as the reminiscence of their first encounter suggests that short-lived happiness has been and gone. After admitting that she ought to take away his hand, the narrator falls into a blissful state of apathy – paralysed by his emotions (‘We don’t have to go anywhere let’s just sit and talk / About the usual things / I couldn’t move anyway’).

Any album so emotionally charged, examining the distinction between love and lust, couldn’t (in my eyes) end happily. It just wouldn’t be right.

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the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Comments

Got something to say about an article? We’d love to hear from you, so send your views to zahir@yusu.org

Getting Down and Dirty with “From Page Three to Playboy Pencil Cases”

“P

ornography is not entitled to an unchallenged status of acceptance” writes Holly Phillips, and I am inclined to agree. Her article was not, however, an effective challenge to the problems of pornography. Ignorant at best and deceptive at worst, “From Page Three” simplified and flattened out the differences between different types of porn. It also backed up claims with incorrect statistics, the most deceptive and dangerous of these being her citation to apparently relevant facts: “Statistics show that a disproportionate amount of the women in porn are survivors of childhood sex abuse. A study of sex workers conducted by Melissa Farley and Jaqueline Lynne in Vancouver in 2004 found that 82% of their respondents ‘reported a history of childhood sex abuse’.” A quick check on Wikipedia shows that Farley and Lynne interviewed prostitutes, a fact of which Phillips is evidently aware because of her decision to call the women “sex workers” and “respondents.” I hasten to add that prostitutes and porn stars are not the same thing. The difference is a crucial one: in America, in Britain and across the world women are legally allowed to have sex for money on camera. The legality of the act means that it is far more likely to be a career people choose for themselves.

Phillips predicted “a succession of experiential proporn testimony (…) from sexually empowered young undergraduates” and in some ways she was correct.

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Matilda Marshall provides her response to the normalisation of pornography I am not, however, writing an “experiential” opposition to her deeply affected tract: “And whether it be eating shit, being ejaculated on, spit roasted, double penetrated, bound, tied, whipped, or anything else from the seemingly bottomless capacity

The legality of the act means that it is far more likely to be a career people choose for themselves

that the pornographic imagination has for degradation.” Eating shit is not comparable to BDSM practices, nor to double penetration, nor to being ejaculated on, since only one of these activities will give you e-coli poisoning. Phillips lumps all sexual practice together. Perhaps the list should also include a perverse blowjob, the footsie under the table, even the dreadful acting. It can be very difficult to draw lines. She closes by writing that it is only the poor and the desperate who end up being forced to do porn. I refer her to a recent film from current TV about kink.com; the most main-stream producer of hardcore pornography: http://current.com/items/91434188_porn2-0.htm. Ironically, the women producing some of the most hardcore pornography are highly educated and working in the safest environments. In fact, the pattern follows that hardcore porn is actually safer as it is more stringently monitored because of the controversy it provokes. As pornography slides into public consciousness it becomes a site of discussion and, as a result, more safe.

The highly emotional rhetoric of the article combined by a distinct brushing over of facts suggests to me that Phillips had a bad experience with the abusive film “two girls, one cup” and decided to fight back against safe and sane porn.

Where will it end, should I burn my copy of Ulysses because of the coprophilia? Well.. only if it turns me on.

the zahir | volume 5 | issue 2

Holly Phillips critiques a critique

I

find it perplexing that response to my last article (which, I might add, never so much as mentioned the word censorship) Matilda Marshall should conclude that I would have any kind problem with Joyce’s account of Bloom taking a dump.

A fictional, non-sexual and nondegrading episode which does not represent coprophilia. From one who accused me of collapsing issues and ‘lumping’ all types of porn together, this extrapolation seems to be unable, even, to distinguish fiction from fact.

And, the fact is, I am afraid, that in order for a film like “2 Girls 1 Cup” to be made, or any other pornographic depiction of sexual humiliation, real life women must undergo such degradation.

Aside from seeming to wilfully ignore, in the name of sexual liberalism, the systemic structures of inequality which the porn industry both draws on and creates, Marshal’s response accuses my article of advocating some kind of blanket ban on porn. This was never my aim and was not alluded to in my article. What Marshall seems to posit as an alternative is a blanket acceptance of pornography, regardless of who it may have harmed and what its content may be, despite her concession of the ‘abusive’ potential of pornography. Marshal’s version of pornography must, assumedly, be produced, by a porn industry

abstracted from all systems of inequality and floating in a socially neutral void. This example, I think, establishes an unsatisfactory trend Marshall’s critique: she seeks, through a mixture of presumption and personal attacks, to belittle and discredit an argument which I did not make.

My article does not deny the existence of empowerment and choice in the porn industry, but these examples, which Marshall includes Kink.com in, do not serve to cancel out the conflicting narratives of coercion, abuse and violence and ultimately helps to shield the brutalities of the industry. The very fact that those highlyeducated graduates at Kink.com

featured in a Current TV podcast surely illustrates their position of comparative empowerment. To

we need greater vigilance about what the normalisation of pornography really entails take this example as representative of an industry serves only to make those less educated, articulate and economically privileged performers even more politically

comments invisible. And this is one of the fundamental problems with the pursuit of Marshal’s ‘sane’ and ‘safe’ porn: the women in porn, unfortunately, do not wear labels and it is often impossible to divine their working conditions, let alone backgrounds, from the material itself.

Finally, I regret to think I may live in a world where the absence of the threat of E-Coli is the marker for adequate working conditions. Frankly, I imagine a (usually non-fatal) dose of E-Coli is the least of porn performers’ worries. The porn industry is, regrettably, not exactly famous for its use of condoms. As Audacia Ray, industry insider and author of Sex on the Internet plainly asserts: ‘[c]ondom mandatory performers work less and get paid less’. And with the recent and well publicised incidents of HIV contraction the industries capital Los Angeles (22 since 2004); this level of risk at the heart of an industry which Marshal would have us believe is ‘stringently checked’ is worrying to say the least. There is massive amount of pornography in the world and it cannot all derive from ‘scrupulous’ bodies link Kink.com; my article simply advocates greater vigilance about what the normalisation of pornography really entails.

In the main, Marshall’s criticisms simply acts to rake up the tired old caricature of exponents the feminist anti-pornography critique as prudish, anti-sex and pro-censorship and refuses to consider or address the real content of ‘From Page 3 to Playboy Pencil Cases’. In her myopic individualism, she leaves no room for discussion of the systemic factors which undoubtedly condition the industry.

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