Bad Comedy

The Guardian recently ran an article that posses the question ‘why don’t we see any late night conservative television a la Jon Stewart, Bill Maher and Steven Colbert?’ As I read about the failed attempt by Fox News to do just that, it became clear to me that whoever wrote this article didn’t understand why; they were posing a question but didn’t have an answer. Not really. The very question itself, the very fact that somebody bothered to write up an article on the topic tells more about liberals than conservatives. It also shows an alarming lack of understanding of the conservative emotional/psychological world.

It’s not that conservatives cannot be funny – think of Top Gear’s Jeremy Clarkson – but to pose the question completely misses the fundamental draw and psychological economy behind the right-wing world. This goes beyond the simple observation that conservatives are sustained by anger, resentment, and a sense of self-entitled self-righteousness. When I was younger and would listen to conservative talk radio, the best DJ/hosts – Rush himself – were the best because they were so good at starting quite and slow and then building the listener into a crescendo of anger – I myself would become angry and frightened about where the country was headed and here I was maybe ten years old. Obviously irony, sarcasm, puns – has no place here. Not only would it not be understood, it would literally snuff out the entire point – the additcting cycle of rage.

But its also more complex then that: conservative comedians wouldn’t be able to compete in the first place. Right wingers don’t need their own late night show – they have Trump. Conservatives live and are sustained by the low theatre of ideology that masquerades as reality. It shelters them and guides them – they need it to cope. Think about it: what is the difference between WWE and Trump’s presidency? Or The Apprentice for that matter. Its fundamentally “the same show,” the same play of emotion and posturing which, if it has a goal, is simply that of base greed and narcissism. Attributing the normal assumptions about the motivations and goals to this administration is therefore not just hopelessly myopic, but catastrophically dangerous.

What’s worse is the response to all this by the Democratic party and establishment liberals in general to conservatives. Here’s another example: The New York Times today writing about Trump on trade: “In Trade Actions, Trump Embraces Unpredictability” goes the headline, the tag being “With New punitive tariffs on Canadian jets, the Trump administration has intensified confusion about the principles guiding its trade policy.” The only real mystery is why would anyone look for principals or a ‘policy’ in the actions of Donald Trump? The same basic problem applies to the worry over late night conservative comedy shows: it implicitly takes conservatives at their word. Across the board, the “Establishment” takes conservative talking points as fundamentally true; most Americans implicitly accept the basic assumptions and reasoning of conservatives to be true, “but if only they were more enlightened, then they would vote Democrat” runs the logic here. This is not just lazy and incorrect, it’s crippling our ability to respond and protect our open, democratic society by the forces of greed and ignorance which menace it.

The reality is that conservative thought is over-representing in this country. Country to the strange whining about there not being free speech on college campuses, the ideas and values and arguments presenting by the right wing get far more of an airing than they deserve. This includes “bandwidth” – coverage on internet, television, books, newspapers and movies – but also disproportionate intellectual pull. For example neoliberal economics, commonly called “trickle-down” or “austerity” has been throughly discredited on both the theoretical abstract plain as well as the real-world of policy. Neo-Liberalism has been the dominate political creed of this nation since Reagan and it has been a disaster – and yet, the rhetoric of neo-liberalism remains at a fever pitch, and I would say that a majority of Americans implicitly assume the tenets of neo-liberalism to be true, if a little “heartless,” instead of just plain wrong and sinisterly so.  Between the stable of billionaire donors (Koch/Murdoch) that assure that any conservative ideas get fully funded and endlessly trumpeted, and the traditional tactic of businesses to pander to our lowest instincts and impulses, we are swamped by conservative ideas disproportion to an actual breakdown of the qualities of ideas and the proportion of what people actually believe and want. For example, I would argue with confidence that progressive Americans – say the actual number of people who wanted Bernie Sanders to be president – is greater than the number of people who wanted Trump or Clinton respectively – but we would not be aware of this because of the inertia and money behind Trump and Clinton.

The “conservatism” we know today represented by Trump – that mix of ethnic nationalism linked with massive corporate entities pursing profit (neo-liberalism) which gets it start with Joe McCarthy and Barry Goldwater, has been ignored and dismissed, but  that only disgusts how effective it has been as an ideology. The business executive uninterested in social questions and the Democratic Establishment politician looks the conservatives as being ignorant, and excessively distasteful, but not actually un-American. We look at the Iowa primaries and we think “It’s good that such a solid middle America state gets to go first,” not “Iowa is no more American, a rural area is no more American than anybody or anywhere else.” Let’s be explicit: the crowd represented by Bannon are the enemies of America, they are the enemies of freedom and democracy. Far from representing a trend in American politics which “has always” been there, they represent the forces which our Revolution implicitly rejected in the Constitution and Bill of Rights. I deny them even the right to call themselves “Confederates.” They are something new – a reflection of cynicism, greed and hypocrisy in the internet age rather than something at all “American.” The creepy sense of authoritarian conformity – Trump’s secretary of the Interior saying that a third of government employees are “disloyal” to Trump being one of the more recent clearly fascist remarks to come from this administration (maybe we should require personal loyalty oaths?) – just makes it all the more obvious. This does not deserve any benefit of the doubt – and I question the judgment of people who would even suggest such a thing.

Kaepernick’s kneeling protest and its conservative backlash brings the issue into stark relief. The fact that’s so easy for conservatives to derail the argument and to pose the protest as “disrespect” for the flag and veterans is beyond alarming. It’s Kaepernick who embodies the spirit of America – freedom, idealism, hope against long odds – not the forces of racially infused economic stratification and crude jingoistic vitriol. It’s time we stopped calling conservatives half-way terms like “deplorable” or “racist” or “mean” and start calling Trumpism for what it is: wrong, un-American and yes, downright fascist.

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No Is Not Enough

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As a rule, I avoid books written by pundits and politicians, and eschew books that seem rushed out to address the latest trending issue, be it ISIS, Trump or why the mainstream media lies. And while books like this wear their loyalty on their sleeve and their biases on their foreheads, it’s best to avoid them for the simple reason that they are not really meant to win an argument or make a point or inform you in any way. These books are meant to fire up the True Believers – somewhat of an antithesis for me.

I made an exception for Naomi Klein’s latest book, No is Not Enough, because I see her as the leading public intellectual of progressive politics. And with Trump’s election, we as a society and my own self personally, need some sort of hope, some sort of way forward. As the book says – we need a way to win the world we need.

The first third of the book lays out Trump’s path to the presidency, the depravities of neoliberalism, the bottomless hypocrisy of the Republican Party specifically and conservatives generally. It’s devastating and insightful and in the light of Hurricane Harvey, all the more urgent and important.

Next, Klein examines some of the issues with the Democratic party – which I found to be a little naive, a little bit cautious. To be blunt here, she does not quite say what needs to be said: the Democratic party rigged the primary against Bernie Sanders and is just as much a part of the larger problem as the Republicans. In her investigation of the primary, she focuses more on Sander’s trouble with minority voters and the double standards facing Hilary against Trump. The highlight is how she points out how what seemed the “safe choice” turned out to be the most dangerous choice – she says it, but the point could have been made louder and longer.

In the conclusion, Klein presents the hopeful looking-forward bits, drawn largely from the Dakota Pipeline protests and her own worth Canada’s indigenous peoples. The big takeaway from this section for me was people who follow the wide-spectrum of left-leaning politics need to put aside the logic of “my crisis is bigger than your crisis” that tends to cripple and compartmentalise the whole project. Everything is related, Klein says and so we need to remodel the system to benefit everyone. I found this section to be light on details though – and it seemed incapable of address some harsh realities and difficulties that progressive politics will have to face and master to gain power.

No is Not Enough is about hope though. It was not the “this is the way forward” that I was hoping for, and seemed to be focused more on finding tiny successes and instances of not-total-defeat to hold on too. This is a good book and many valuable points are made – especially when it comes to understanding Trump – but my own personal expectations for this book was high and were not lived up too.

 

Superintelligence

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It’s hard to talk and think about artificial intelligence or superintelligence with out resorting to science fiction or shallow references to pop culture. WOPR, HAL 6000, Skynet – it’s best if you put those aside for a moment. Well not really, because the basic theme of the book is the tremendous danger a true machine super intelligence would pose to humanity. AI is an existential risk – quite possible it will be “our” meteor wipes us out.

I love serious books. I love how Bostrom saw a problem – lack of serious critical thinking about AI and its dangers – and sat down at his desk, sharpened his pencils and addressed the issue in a well written, insightful book. Logical, smart, yet with rare and subtle humour, Superintelligence is the sort of book that may not be that widely read, but will deeply impress those who do read it.

Systematically exploring the pathways to “super intelligence” the threats, dangers and the odds, this book is neither a pundit-like “rah-rahing” for AI, nor is this a conspiracy theorists’ doom-porn expose. It’s a serious, well written book – and in the age of twitter and fake news – it is incredibly refreshing. Bostrom – like all people’s who intelligence is worth respect, sees opportunities, but offers no easy or simple solutions.

A book that proves that “smart” and “academic” can be enjoyable, even invigorating.

 

Brother Number One

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Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were pound for pound the most murderous of the communist dictator/revolutionaries that emerged during the Cold War. What strikes me about this “Cambodian Revolution” is exactly how far they went in their ‘leap’ towards communism. All privacy – everyone was expected to wear the same clothing – and personal ownership was abolished, the entire population of Phnom Penh was herded into the countryside and treated as enemies of the state.  No other country has pursued the logic of communist revolution further than Pol Pot’s communists.

Pol Pot is a nom de guerre, much like “Stalin” it is quite interesting how secretive the man actually was – his family didn’t even no he was the leader of the revolution until they saw his photo hung in the collective’s dinning hall as a part of the nascent personality cult that was being formed. Brother Number One is a biography of a man – real name Saloth Sar – that strove his entire life to not have a biography.

Pol Pot was actually born to what we might understand as a wealthy farming family, and in the very small world of Cambodia a hundred years ago, this meant connections to the royal family via the royal ballet troupe. Pol Pot received a very high level of eduction for the time – even travelling for years to France – and mixing with the Cambodian elites of his generation. In France he becomes a communist true believer, returns to Cambodia, where he becomes the head of the nascent Cambodian Communist Part, formed and backed by Vietnam in their struggle for independence and war against the US. Pol Pot becomes the head of the Cambodia Communist Party when it’s really not a desirable job to have, but he’s totally loyal and committed.

Once Pol Pot becomes the leader of the party, all sources of personal information essentially cease, and the biography reads more of a history of the Cambodian Revolution. You have to say this for Pol Pot: he was not corrupt and not a hypocrite.

Reading this book you come to realise how poor and small Cambodia truely is – the geopolitical reality is that they are trapped between Thailand and Vietnam; the best Cambodia can hope for is a tenuous independence backed by one or the other. The Vietnamese brought Pol Pot to power and they went to war to get him out of power – it’s as simple as that. And much of the butchery of the revolution can be chalked up to sheer incompetence – there simply was no body who knew how to run an economy – mixed with a curious sense of fanaticism.

A fascinating, chilling read.

King Leopold’s Ghost

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Like many of the historical topics that I am interested – like comprehensive, well written histories of ancient and medieval China – I was unable to find books on the wars of independence in Africa involving ageing European imperial powers like Portugal and Belgium that wind up being a playground for the CIA and worse….

If you know of any good books about Portugal’s involvement and wars in Angola, let me know…

King Leopold’s Ghost is one of the few books that did come in the course of my search. Of course, this is not about Portugal and Angola, but rather, Belgium and the Congo. Close enough.

During the 1840-1914 “Scramble for Africa” – the height of European imperialism – little Belgium’s constitutional monarch, the lonely, somewhat tortured Leopold II – desperately wanted a colony. And lacking both the military means, much less a domestic drive to acquire a colony, he essentially dedicated his life to acquiring a colony and running it himself. He stands out as more CEO than “king.”

By carefully manicuring an image of philanthropy and backing famous explores of Africa – especially the (also tortured and lonely) Henry Morton Stanly – Leopold managed to wrangle a rather unique situation. He cobbled together “treaties” signed by African Kongo chiefs which seceded their land into an “independent state” based on “free trade.” After furious lobbying and international campaigns that can only be described as propaganda – perhaps the first true use of “lobbying” in the way we mean it today – the US recognised the “Free State of the Kong.” Not ruled by the civilian government of Belgium, in effect the Congo became the personal property of Leopold.

The result was a humanitarian disaster – the Congolese were not just exploited as slave labor for ivory and rubber, their treatment was such that Leopold’s regime can be considered a genocide. This devastation, and the humanitarian response in Europe constitute the first example of both that we see in history. Leopold made millions. And Joseph Conrad wrote his brilliant Heart of Darkness from it.

King Leopold’s Ghost does a great job balancing human interest and telling the stories of the major personalities involved with facts as they can be ascertained. Narrative and factual rigour are well matched in this book. Informative, eye-opening and despite the rather tragic topic, quite enjoyable.

The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci

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This is a charming work of history and biography – not an oil painting, a sketch. Jonathon D. Spence presents us with the story of Jesuit Matteo Ricci’s extra-ordinary life in Ming Dynasty China. The book is framed around Ricci’s “memory palace” – an European memory aid that Ricci hoped would appeal to the scholarly sensibilities of the Chinese elite.

The idea of the memory palace is that you place what you want to remember in a imaginary building and the objects de arte inside are linked to the individual items you want to remember. For example, in your imaginary dream palace, you enter the forecourt, which has say four statues in it; each statue is dramatic and vivid, say, two warriors fighting – and this prompts you to recall the Chinese ideogram for “war.” Ricci was a master of this technique, apparently able to recall entire books and repeat them forwards and backwards. If this technique seems unwieldy – effectively giving you more to remember (as it seems to me), bare in mind that Ricci lived in a society that was still essentially oral and verbal – their capacity for memory was therefore far more linked to song and the spoken word.

I found two of Spence’s books simply browsing in Powell’s – and I knew that they would be winners from the moment I saw them. More of a cultural history through the lens of one man’s life, we are guided through the world of early-modern/Counter Reformation Europe, and the world of the Jeuits in East Asia. This schema works because Matteo Ricci himself was such a fascinating, brilliant character.

From Papal-controlled central Italy, Ricci became a Jesuit priest and as  young man, sailed out to China and spent the rest of his life attempting to convert the Chinese the Christianity. Facing the complex web of Chinese belief, Ricci made little headway but was remarkably successful in interesting the Ming court in Western mathematics and technology. His attempts to make christianity “palatable” to the Chinese borders on heresy.

Ming society was a curious mixture of belief – the common people were largely Buddhist or Taoist, with a healthy dose of folk customs and superstitions. The ruling class practised the loose corpus of philosophical and ethical doctrines known as Confucianism, which has this epicurean, agnostic, and one is tempted to say humanistic vein.  Thus Ming China was a cosmopolitan place compared to Counter-Reformation Europe, and the monotheistic strictures and fears of Christianity made little headway. A telling event recounted by Spence is the reaction of a courtly eunuch finding a dramatic, baroque crucifix – the agony and torture of Christ; his emaciated body – all being vividly rendered in wood, shocked and angered the eunuch, who showed it to the assembled Chinese – they found the concept of the “tortured” God inexplicable, and the obsession with the “torture” itself the Chinese found to be somewhere between quite odd and downright evil (they may have a point). It was a ‘PR’ disaster for Ricci, who was unable to find a reasonable explanation for it on the spot. The Jesuits in China focused largely on the Virgin Mary, backed by God-the-Father and the more edifying exploits of the Apostles.

This world of Jesuits, emperors, science and religion – I got hooked on it from James Clavell’s Shogun – is one that is fascinating. In many ways, this is Shogun but factual.

Informative, interesting, vivid.

The Plague of Fantasies

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As our Republic continues it’s Twitter-fueled death spiral, and humanity trundles along in polluting the planet in the name of greed for greed’s sake, works of philosophy increasingly read as obscure works of ancient hieroglyphics – tokens of a dead time when the things like “truth” and “justice” had purchase and meaning. I was reading Habermas – a titan of liberal-democratic philosophy, attempting to perfect and streamline  a hopeful future  – and it might well have been the small stick-like imprints on clay tablets that the Babylonians made. Trump’s election broke something, something that I despair of ever getting back.

Happily, The Plague of Fantasies does not read like this; I found it to be one of the more “relevant” books of “philosophy” I have read in memory. Fantasies addresses itself to the what we might call the underlying human psychological “problem” of the internet. The internet is this place where all the world’s facts, ideas, and truths are literally at your fingertips, and yet it’s ushered in the end of “facts” and “truths” as we know them. Technological change is reaching a point where the very nature of what it means to be “human” is under real change in our own lifetimes.

Zizek approaches the “problems of the internet” from the perspective of Lacanian psychoanylsis, which draws on Freud, but also the larger tradition of Critical Theory. As such, he’s not interested in the internet as a technical achievement, but sheer human psychology and how the internet effects us in the most fundamental sense. For example, with “windows,” computers cross a border between being large calculators and become rather vehicles of fantasy (they cease to be tools and become a sort of magic). We cease to “work on it” and now computers “work on us.” Real Life is increasingly just “real life” or simply “RL.”

Most of the book focuses on human psychology – a complex and delicate web of deferred fantasy, impossible to resolve tensions and unexplored truths about what “makes us tick.” The internet essentially provides this vehicle where are fantasies are “granted” when human psychology seems folded around having fantasies that are never realised. 

Of course, Zizek shines with a plethora of pop-cultural references raised to high philosophical and psychological points, mixing startlingly pronouncements that shatter the stilted “Option A or Option B” common opinions of our society. Powerful, insightful, totally original and completely uncommon, Zizek never disappoints. Fair warning, this book was pretty heavy on “inside” Lacanian theory; and in that respect, this book was a sometimes a bit inaccessible; I have never in the flesh a person conversant with Lacanianism.

The Big Nowhere

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A monster is loose in 1950’s Los Angeles; three cops must learn to work together to bring the killer down, beach must fight his own demons along the way, and each discovers that the web of crime goes much deeper than any of them could have ever imagined…

As you’ve already guessed, this is one of James Ellroy’s crime thriller novels. And while the overall plots seems remarkably the same from book to book, I love every noir-drenched second of these books. Making Dashiell Hammett look downright cheerful – and a bit naive too. Ellroy is one of those writers whose talents dwarf those of the average mortal; he’s one of those authors that remind one why we read.

First of all, Ellroy is the mast or the “look” and “feel” of noir; each sentence oozes a world of literal and metaphorical shadows. Well-researched use of slang and his extreme sensitivity to what non-Americans would instantly identify as class differences between characters add realism. But beyond literary ‘tactics,’ Ellroy recreates Gotham City – in sunny southern California. It’s gritty and yet a playground of sin, vice, corruption, and dedicated cops that will stop at nothing to get what they most desire…

Second, Ellroy effortlessly matches character drama (office politics, characters struggling with their foibles and hang-ups) with razor-edge police procedural, serial killer pursuit with biting (and yet oh-so-subtle) social and political commentary. The killer is a monster, yes, but is always a product of a larger web of crime; always a result of an older crime, a crime which is linked, almost in a mythological sense to the founding “acts” of this shadowy Gotham-esque society. Ellroy shows how “pure” evil is always illusory, a product and reflection of cynical, regressive way of viewing the world and the other people in it. The “true” crime is thus far removed from the plot of the book; it represents a primal, protean act of violence towards society which “the monster” witnesses, thus setting the events of the story in motion.

As the piece de resistance, Ellroy is writing true mysteries that are dazzling in their complexity and detail. Each facts are accumulated, leads are followed, links keep forming and forming…the result is that each book m Even his separate books will refine each other, often with identical characters appearing in the same roles in each book. Yet this is not repetitive at all, rather true literary accomplishment.

Dark, sometimes painful and hard to read when the jargon gets to thick, but overwhelmingly masterful books.

 

 

The Persian Expedition (Anabasis)

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Known variously as ‘The Persian Expedition,’ or ‘The March of the Ten Thousand,’ the proper title would be ‘Anabasis,’ (Greek, meaning “the march up country”). Written in 350BC, it recounts the epic journey of an army of Greek mercenaries to return home from deep in the Persian Empire.

One of the more interesting things about The Persian Expedition is the fact that it is “real.”  Xenophon was a professional soldier who played the critical role in this epic; this is not myth, fantasy, or an epic poem, it’s actual quite concrete and at no point leaves the realm of fact – no mythological creatures, no assistance from divinities. The Greeks save themselves. This book is about tactics, forced marches, tough negotiation, power politics and a celebration of Greek cultural and military superiority. As such, I can’t help but feeling that Xenophon is the great-great grandfather of exploration/expedition writing, military/adventure memoirs and along with The Odessey, the trope of fantasticesotic/ journeys a la Gulliver’s Travels and Star Trek.

The context to Xenophon’s march is important. The high Hellenic world was comprised of city states scattered throughout what is now the modern day eastern mediterranean, only roughly centring in modern day Greece. To the east, the massive, oriental Persian Empire loomed monolithically – not just a political threat, the Persian Menace was an existential and cultural threat as well. This is the birth of the  East vs West divide and even the notion of the land-locked “evil Empire.” Famously, the Persians massively invaded Greece, the Greek city united, leading to the victories of Marathon (First Persian Invasion) Thermopylae (of 300 fame show casing the Spartans) and Samos (Athen’s great naval victory). This ominous pressure, combined with outstanding success set the stage for the high Hellenic Age and it’s this attempt by the Persians subdue these outlaying provinces of their Empire which more or less ignites the Greek cultural and philosophical revolution.

Following the Persian invasions, the rivalry between the militaristic Sparta and the vibrant, messy naval democracy of Athens dominated the Greek world. With Athen’s defeat in the Peloponnesian War, Sparta was the dominant power, but this also makes the end of the Hellenic Golden Age. So in this context of Spartan victory over Athens, and the epoch making sense of Greek superiority (a sense that each Greek city-state could treat with the mighty Persian Empire; that Greek freedom and logic was ultimately superior to the exotic despotism of the East), that Cyrus, the younger brother of the Persian Shahinshah – the king of kings – Artaxerxes, hires ten thousands Greek mercenaries to assist him with his expedition to depose his brother.

Xenophon clearly admired this Cyrus, who comes across as a shrew judge of men and moral yet honourable in the account. He clearly perceived the superiority of Greek heavy infantry – the hoplite in phalanx formation (the original shock troopers) – over the Persian manner of fighting which tended to take the form of lightly armoured spearmen, archers and chariots. Part of the inspiration behind the hoplite is the idea of the citizen soldier – Greek military discipline not only provided Cyrus with an elite core of an army which had the additional bonus of not being Persian (and therefore more likely to by loyal to Cyrus once they were far from home). Cyrus and his army march deep into modern day Iraq, and near Babylon, Artaxerxes engages in battle. The dense formations of Greek heavy infantry did well (being essentially invincible in toe-to-toe combat), but Cyrus is killed in the fighting.

Suddenly the Greeks are surrounded, deep in the Persian Empire, and betrayed on all sides. Greek solidarity pulls the mercenaries together into a cohesive army which marches north to the coast of the Black Sea, despite the best efforts of the Persians, hostile tribes and the elements. More than an exotic yarn, this is a legitimate military feat; Greek culture and Greek individualism, mixed with a sense of honour and duties owed to each other allow Xenophon, his fellow generals and soldiers to navigate the challenges that they face.

It’s engaging to read this text; for me it’s the prospect of reading a cornerstone, founding text of western civilisation, but more, a testimony to “what makes the Greeks so great.” It’s surprisingly readable and the narrative flows easily. A great glimpse into a lost world.

 

The Man Who Was Thursday

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The Man Who Was Thursday is a sort of metaphysical thriller of the same generation of writers like Franz Kafka and Joseph Conrad. The action takes place at an allegorical level, – much as in The Trial or Heart of Darkness – and so don’t expect a whole lot of character development or realistic plot points.

In fact, its worth pointing out that The Man Who Was Thursday – as a major work of conservative thought – is essentially the exact counter-point to Kafka’s The Trial. Where The Trial depicts a universe devoid of meaning, Thursday comes to the exact conclusion depicting a religiously-infused world meaning (even as it remains mysterious) G.K. Chesterton is one of the leading lights of the great British conservative tradition that starts with Edmund Burke’s rebuke to the French Revolution and passes with Winston Churchill. Think surreal Charles Dickens. As such, The Man Who Was Thursday is one of the most intelligent portrayals of actual conservative thought (as distinguished from the neoliberalism of Hayek and Rand and other more pernicious forms of right-wing thinking like Sorrel or Schmitt).

The book starts with main character Syme – a young gentleman of a poetic, passionate nature – entering a fashionable get-together of what today we might call know-it-all rich kids which dabble in left-wing politics. Holding court is Gregory, the outspoken leader who propounds the most radical anarchist ideas (revolt is poetic, better to live one day as a lion then a 100 days as a sheep, etc). In a very witty, allegorical conversation, Syme humiliates Gregory as a dilettante and a fool. Chesterton introduces his key insight: the idea that order, progress, monogamous marriage, and traditional bourgeois society are what is truely “revolutionary and poetic.” Using the key image of the lamppost (upright, technical/hierarchical society) and the tree (communal, organic/spontaneous society), Chesterton advances the idea that even common criminals have the decency to participate in the great order of life (there only crime is desiring property too much; presumably, if they got enough property, they would be content); it is the people who seek change in society who are the problem. These (largely intellectual) people want to change the established order of things: this is either spoiled childishness or a dark desire to “watch the world burn.”

To show Syme he is not a poser, Gregory swears Syme to secrecy and takes him to a subterranean meeting of Anarchists (which takes place in maybe one of the earliest conceptions of a Bond Villain hideout), where Gregory is about to be elected “Thursday,” one of seven members of the International Anarchist Council. Syme reveals he is a policeman to Gregory, who in his “vote for me” speech to the Anarchists attempts to temper his fears of Syme ratting on him by talking about how Anarchists want to uplift and help humanity; Gregory’s speech is not well received. Syme leaps up and delivers a fire-and-brimstone speech on the righteous, violent vengeance that Anarchism is about to unleash on the world. The Anarchists love it and elect Syme as the new Thursday.

At this point we are treated to a flashback to the recruitment of Syme as a member of a special squad of detectives bent on a last-ditch attempt to infiltrate and destroy Anarchism; he is told that he is being sent on a suicide mission. Syme attends the meeting of the Anarchist Council – which hides in plain sight, passing itself as a group of successful gentleman just having large brunch with some harmless banter. We meet the rest of the Council, headed by the grotesque and portentous Sunday, the cold, cruel scientific Dr. Bull, the ideologically fervent Secretary, the aristocratic and vaguely De Sade-esque Marquis de St. Eustache, and the stand in for German Idealist philosophy, Professor De Worms (the other members of the council are less significant). It should be obvious that there is little of character here, post figures in this book stand for ideas or notions. We learn that Sunday is planning some huge dynamiting “outrage” and one of the members of the council is revealed to be a police spy.

Syme is now pursued, one by one, by various members of the council, who, one-by-one are also revealed to be police agents. It is revealed that they were all hired especially by one head cop who hired them in a completely dark room. The plot builds until it seems like the whole world has turned to Anarchism and is trying to hunt down the detectives, but it is an illusion; soon the entire council of detectives set out to pursue the god-like Sunday, who leads them on a truely surreal chase around London, involving an elephant and daring balloon escape. The detectives chase the balloon across the English countryside, meanwhile engaging in metaphysical reflection. Eventually, the balloon comes down.

The detectives are then met by carriages staffed by elegant attendants; they are taken to a estate where they are given symbolic garb to match their respective day and personality. Ushered into the presence of Sunday (who is now truely God), they sit as a symbolic unity of seven and look on as a massive costume party (people are dressed as animals, the elements, etc) goes on for several hours. The detectives are revealed as sort of cosmic principals originating with Creation. Syme has been “Thursday (the day the moon and stars were created)” all along. It’s a magical evening, but Gregory the only real Anarchist comes (as the Devil?) to complain about how God is running things; he implies that God has never suffered, doesn’t understand humanity or the human predicament. In response, the last words of the book are Sunday’s: “would ye drink of the same cup as I have?”

Intellectually the book peters out once you realize that the entire council are all police detectives – in fact, the opening two chapters make up the meat of the book in terms of actual debate and argument. In this sense, it’s curious, half-finished book which never quite susses out it’s full vision. What does it mean that God is at once Top Anarchist and all his acolytes are all police detectives? It begs the question: “What are they actually fighting? What are they actually afraid of?” The more I think about the book, the less intellectual traction of engaging with the material I find.

And while it is all tremendously witty, with a tremendous sense of playacting – Anarchist Gregory dresses up as his idea of establishment figures like a bishop, an army major, and a millionaire to avoid being detected as an Anarchist, the police detectives dress up as their ideas of Anarchists (an Idealist philosopher, the cold man of scientific reason, the exotic, yet somehow slightly asiatic decadent despotic-ness of the Marquis, the Worker).

Chesterton’s most insightful point, again, is that there is something poetic, something revolutionary about establish society (he uses the idea of a train system that runs on time, not as an example of rigid monotony, but of an thrilling departure from the lassitude of the natural world). Another way of putting it is that a successful heterosexual monogamous marriage is the truely “rebellious” relationship because of true unique/rare it is. Behind this all lays the fundamental conservative view: there is an established order to things and any attempt to change this established order is, at best foolishness, and at worst, a sinister destructiveness.

And one can easily why this would be a powerful point of view – it as the emotional bonus of being both optimistic (of a sort) and poses as a sort of timeless wisdom. The mindless destructiveness of Edwardian terrorism, masked with Romantic rhetoric was truely obnoxious. But for me, that is where the strength of the book ends. Conservatism fundamental denies that there is a problem – the only problem is people who mistakenly believe there is a problem that should be addressed with social change. You do no have to think about this for too long to realize the chilling consequences of this concept: it’s a massive endorsement of the status quo – no matter how savage or cruel – and any attempt at change, no matter how modest or sensible becomes a crime against The Order of Things. Chesterton is unable to engage with any background to Anarchism – aside from a sense that Gregory wants attention and to be taken seriously – he is unable to explain social problems, unable to grapple with what might lay behind any alternative to his world view. He denies that there are any social problems; crime and poverty are eternal, part of the cycle of stars it seems, not manufactured social circumstances which can obviously be addressed.

His ultimate response to Gregory – that God has suffered (on the Cross), is suffering infinitely more, and thus knows all (this is the way it had to be)- both dismisses actual human suffering and at the same time makes God into something of a martyr, a cosmic playing of the victim. Chesterton’s ultimate response to real, humanly manufactured suffering is a sort “yeah, well, we all have a sob story pal” but told in an optimistic, wise sort of way. The cosmic dance at the end of the book answers no questions, solves no problems, and upon reflection leaves one wondering why God is presented as a rich eccentric who has nothing better to do than to play Anarchist.

It’s interesting to see the birth and development of the traditional conservative critiques of liberals, ones that we are all too familiar with today. The sense that people interested in change are either apocalyptically destructive, bent on global despotism, or rich intellectual fools interested only in getting attention. Additionally, one can detective the growth of the spy and superhero genres – there were many scenes which reminded me of the 1960’s TV show The Prisoner for example.

Witty, enjoyably surreal and ideologically instructive. Probably one of the best, most sane /gentle portrayals of conservative thought from a time when being conservative meant something.