星期日, 4月 05, 2009

The Theory of Everything


 



The Theory of Everything


                                                                               - 6 Jan 2001, By Michio Kaku 


Time Magazine chose him as Man of the Century. Albert Einstein had three great theories. His first theory of Special Relativity (1905) gave us E = mc², which led to the atomic bomb and unlocked the secret of the stars. His second great theory was General Relativity (1915), which gave us space warps, the Big Bang, and black holes. But many don't realize that his greatest theory was never finished: "a theory of everything". Einstein's crowning achievement was to have been the unified field theory, an attempt to "read the mind of God". 


But on the third try, Einstein failed. He spent the last 30 years of his life chasing after an equation, perhaps no more than one inch long, that would explain all physical phenomena. Everything from Creation, to supernovas, to atoms and molecules, perhaps even DNA, people, and love was to be explained by this equation. If discovered, it was to have been the ultimate achievement of 2,000 years of investigation into the nature of space and matter, ever since the Greeks asked what was the smallest particle and the smallest unit of space. Although there are many unresolved questions, today the leading and, in fact, only candidate for the Theory of Everything is ‘superstring’ theory, defined in 10 dimensional hyperspace. Superstring theory, in turn may one day answer some of the deepest questions of the universe, such as: 


What happened before the big bang? 


Is it possible to build a time machine? 


Can we punch a hole in space? 


Not only has the power of this theory startled the world of mathematics and shaken the world of physics, it is also the craziest theory ever proposed. 


Four fundamental forces 


Today, we realize that the entire universe is governed by four fundamental forces: 


The gravitational force, which keeps us from flying into outer space, and prevents our sun (a gigantic hydrogen bomb) from exploding outward. 


The electromagnetic force, which light up our cities and energizes our lasers and our computers. 


The strong and weak nuclear forces, which lights up the stars and galaxies. 


Gravity can be described by Einstein's general relativity theory. Matter warps the space surround it, thereby creating the "force" of gravity. 


Imagine an ant walking on a crumpled sheet of paper. The ant would say that there was a mysterious "force" which pulled it left and right. But we know that there is no "force" pulling the ant; there is only the crumpled sheet of paper pushing the ant left and right. Gravity does not pull: empty space pushes. 


The other three forces can be described by the quantum theory. The quantum theory has a tortured history. Back in the 1950s, when scores of strange new "fundamental" particles were flooding out of our atom smashers, J. Robert Oppenheimer (father of the atomic bomb) was so frustrated that he declared, "the Nobel Prize in physics shall go to the physicist who does NOT discover a new particle that year." There were so many particles, each given strange Greek names, that Enrico Fermi said, "if I had known there would be so many particles, I would have become a botanist rather than a physicist." 


But after decades of wandering in the wilderness (and spending billions of tax payers dollars) physicists have unified these three quantum forces into what is called the Standard Model, based on a zoo of bizarre particles, called quarks, leptons, Higgs bosons, Yang-Mills particles, gluons, W-bosons and more. Remarkably, all known physical phenomenon can, in principle, be described by these two great theories, relativity and the quantum theory. 


Although these two great theories represent the two pillars upon which ALL physical knowledge is based, the fundamental mystery is why these two theories are so different in almost every way. The first theory is based on the curvature of smooth surfaces, which describes the world of the very large. 


The second theory is based on tiny discrete packets of energy (called "quanta") and explains the world of the very small, such as atoms and nuclei. 


But why should nature, at the most fundamental level, create two totally dissimilar theories? Sadly, every attempt to merge these two theories has failed. Some of the greatest minds of the century have tackled this problem, only to be unsuccessful. 


As physicist Freeman Dyson has pointed out, the road to the unified field theory is "littered with the corpses". Neils Bohr once attended a meeting when Nobel Laureate Wolfgang Pauli was presenting his version of the unified field theory. Bohr stood up and said, "Mr. Pauli, we in the back are all convinced that your theory is crazy. But what divides us is whether your theory is crazy enough!" 


This is perhaps the greatest challenge of all time, to unite all four fundamental forces into a consistent, coherent picture. At present, the sole candidate for the theory of everything is superstring theory. 


Superstrings and the 10th Dimension 


Superstring theory combines relativity and quantum in an elegant, intuitive way. First, it describes the myriad of quantum particles of nature because each particle represents a "note" on a vibrating string. Think of a violin string. No one says that A or B is more fundamental than C. What is fundamental is the string itself. 


Superstring theory says that, if we had a supermicroscope and could peer at an electron, we would see a string vibrating in a certain mode. The string is extremely small (10 to the minus 33 centimeters!) so that the electron looks like a point particle to us. If we shake the string, so it vibrates in a different mode, then the electron can turn into something else, such as a quark, the fundamental constitute of protons and neutrons. Shake it again, and the string could vibrate in the mode which describes photons (the quanta of light). Shake it again and it turns into a graviton (the quanta of gravity). 


In fact, the collective set of vibrations corresponds to the entire spectrum of known particles. Instead of postulating millions of different particles, one only has to postulate a single object, the superstring. The sub-atomic particles are notes on the superstring. Our bodies are symphonies of strings, and the laws of physics are the laws of harmony of the superstring. 


The superstring theory can also explain gravity. When the superstring moves in space and time, splitting and rejoining into other strings, it forces the space-time surrounding it to curl up, just as Einstein's equations predict. In other words, even if Einstein never dreamed up general relativity, we might have discovered it through superstring theory. 


Hyperspace 


Superstring theory, of course, has its detractors. Many point out it predicts the universe is defined in 10 dimensional hyperspace, which sounds more like science fiction than real physics. It's indisputable that the universe exists in four dimensions (3 spatial dimensions and one time dimension). Every object in the universe, from the tip of your nose to the farthest star, can be located by giving just 3 co-ordinates (length, width, and height). If we also give the time, then we can describe every event in the universe with just four numbers. For example in New York, we might say to a friend, "meet me at 42nd street and 5th avenue, on the 25th floor, at 12:00." Thus, four numbers (42, 5, 25, 12) completely specifies this event in space-time. 


Superstring theory, however, predicts the universe should exist in 10 dimensions, not four. To explain where the other six dimensions went, physicists believe that the universe originally existed in 10 dimensions. However, at the instant of the Big Bang, for reasons we don't understand, six of the 10 dimensions "curled up" and collapsed, while the other four dimensions expanded rapidly. In some sense, our universe expanded at the expense of a twin universe which collapsed down to microscopic size. 


Other critics of superstring theory point out that an atom smasher powerful enough to test the superstring theory would have to be the size of the galaxy. The theory is untestable. I think this criticism is a bit silly. Most science is done indirectly, not directly. No one has ever been to the sun or seen a black hole, yet we know what the sun is made of and we have found 20 galactic black holes in space. Similarly, we might be able to detect echos of the 10th dimension from the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), now being build outside Geneva, Switzerland. There is a small hope that we will be able to find "sparticles," (or superparticles) which would represent higher vibrations of the superstrings. 


Personally, I think that the problem will be solved by pure mathematics. Once the theory is solved completely, it should yield not just the origin of the universe, but it should also perfectly match the masses of the quarks, leptons, Higgs particles and others. 


Time Travel? 


Although a quantum theory of gravity has immediate practical application there is one budding area of physics devoted to a novel application of quantum physics: time travel. Oddly enough, Einstein's equations admit the possibility of time travel. But it may take the full power of the unified field theory to calculate whether it's really possible or not. Back in 1949, Einstein's next door neighbor at the Institute for Advance Study, the great mathematician Kurt Goedel, demonstrated Einstein's own equations allowed for time travel. If the universe rotated, and you went around the universe, you could arrive back before you left! 


In his memoirs, Einstein pointed out that Goedel's solution could be dismissed on "physical grounds." Our universe expands, it doesn't rotate. But this leaves open the possibility that if the universe rotated, then time travel would be common place!


Since then, literally hundreds of solutions of Einstein's equations have been found which yield time travel solutions. They include: 


An infinite, spinning cylinder. This allows for time travel if one travels around the cylinder. 


Cosmic strings. They allow for time travel if the cosmic strings collide. 


A spinning black hole. This collapses into a spinning ring (not a point), so anyone falling through the ring might actually fall through a wormhole (the Einstein-Rosen Bridge) which, like Alice's Looking Glass, connects two different regions of space and time. 


Negative matter. If enough negative matter were to be found,then it might open up a wormhole large enough so that a trip through time wouldn't be any more jarring than a ride on an airplane. 


Negative energy. Similarly, an intense concentration of negative energy can also open up a wormhole. A crude version of "warp drive" can be obtained if one stretches the space in front of you and compress the space behind you via negative energy. 


A Theory of Everything may also help explain the sticky paradoxes found in time travel stories,such as the grandfather paradox (what happens if you kill your ancestors before you are born). Because the entire universe must be quantized, it’s possible the universe splits in half when you alter the past. The "river of time" forks into two different rivers. 


If you go back in time to save President Kennedy from being assassinated, you will only save someone else's President Kennedy. Your own past cannot be changed. 


But don't expect any amateur inventor to announce the invention of a time machine anytime soon. Negative matter has never been seen (it falls up, not down) and you need a fantastic amount of both negative and positive energy, called the Planck energy (which is a quadrillion times larger than the energy of the LHC). When Michael J. Fox jumped into his plutonium-fired De Lorean car in ‘Back to the Future’, we can calculate that his plutonium power source does not have enough energy to open a hole in space-time. Even if we could buld one the stability of these time machines is in question. We don't know if they will be stable enough to transport us safely back in time. 


Outlook 


At present, superstring theory has emerged from being a fringe theory of physics to becoming one of the dominant areas of research, generating tens of thousands of papers. The pace of research is feverish. Edward Witten of the Institute of Advanced Study, one of the principle researchers in string theory, recently made another discovery, that there might even be a hidden eleventh dimension. But the truth is that no one is smart enough to completely solve the theory and settle intriguing theoretical questions about what happened before the Big Bang and if time travel is possible. 


Perhaps a young person reading this article will become inspired to solve the greatest problem of fundamental physics!




 


On Violence



                                                                 On Violence
                                                                                                                         author: Slavoj Žižek
Description
Žižek's lecture on his book Violence at the University of Leeds. Expounds on violence in all its dimensions, he introduces aspects that got left out in the book. The lecture was organized by the International Journal of Žižek Studies.
Below is a brief chronological summary of the lecture's main themes:



Marxism and psychoanalysis - They have a problematic relationship in so far as Marxism mis-uses psychoanalysis to fill in its theoretical gaps & shortcomings. The way forward is to open up a new domain that can be described by psychoanalysis but offers the grounds for a new revolutionary subjectivity.
The possibility of a radical/revolutionary new subjectivity - a purportedly post-traumatic subjectivity typical of the 21st Century - with reference to Catherine Malabous recent book - Les nouveaux blessés (The New Wounded).
Impossible objects - The core of humanity as the drive and fascination for things we cannot do or fully understand.



Freud & Lacan - The relationship between external traumatic events/stimuli and internal psychical traumas. Sexuality is less about content and more about the form of the fantasy through which sexuality is expressed. Trauma/fantasy sexualizes sexuality itself, only through trauma can sexuality occur. Sexuality only occurs through the distortion of trauma.
Catherine Malabou's critique of the Freudian/Lacanian position - our socio-political reality today has produced so many brutal external intrusions that our traditional symbolic structures have been destroyed.



Malabou's reproach - that Freud always looks for the psychic trauma at the expense of the overwhelmingly destructive external shocks of profoundly violent events that have no rational meaning to be processed. The post-traumatic subject that results is emptied of his/her substance - there is nowhere to regress in the Freudian sense because your entire identity has been erased, you become a pure subject deprived of the symbolic content that the hermeneutics of psychoanalysis depend upon. This creates a new form of the living dead. The big political and psychoanalytical problem of today is how to think through this new traumatized subject.



Zizek's Lacanian response - the underlying function of such Lacanian categories of castration etc. is to describe this manner in which the subject is deprived of his/her substance. Similarly, in German idealism we learn that the subject is substanceless.



Psychoanalytical theory's response - The Big Other is what are you deprived of when you are subjected to this destructive violence, not as an all-knowing figure of authority but rather the Big Other as appearance. The fool and the grain of seed story (the mentally ill man who thought he was a grain of corn, returns to the asylum and is told off because he has been cured - to which he replies "yes, but does the chicken know this" ... This reveals a central component of ideology - we all need a chicken not to know. E.g. the fact that whilst drawing to the end of his life, Tito was not informed of the parlous state of Yugoslavia's economy. So huge amounts of money was borrowed to keep Tito happy till his death. Economic crisis ensued with the subsequent outbreaks of genocidal nationalism - because the chicken was not allowed to know.



Culture today - we can afford to be as cynical as we want, but we still need a chicken that doesn't know. E.g. in today's greatest remaining taboo is paedophilia and the corruption of childhood innocence - we still need a chicken, unlike the post-traumatic subjects who have lost their chicken. In cultural politics - this means we need more not less distance from our cultural neighbours. We need more codes of discretion, not more understanding.


The rise of gonzo pornography - this marks the end of engagement as the ridiculous narratives of traditional pornography have been replaced by gonzo porn where all narrative has been removed.
The basic lesson of the post-traumatic subject - the stories we are telling ourselves about ourselves, our innermost narratives, are ultimately lies. Psychoanalysis helps us to understand this truth.
The rise of the detached subject & a new revolutionary perspective - there are a whole new series of antagonisms that capitalism cannot solve:
1. ecological concerns 2. intellectual property rights 3. excluded populations - gated communities
These constitute 3 new forms of proletarianization in a basic philosophical sense in addition to the classic Marxist sense of exploitation. The common philosophical element of all three domains is the way in which the subject is deprived of his/her key substance. This is the grounds for the building of a new proletarianization e.g. Neo from The Matrix - deprived of his whole symbolic inner life.
The new Cartesian subjectivity - Descartes's conception of the subject is now more relevant than ever before. The conceptualization of the subject that survives his/her own death - maybe we can provide a frame that will provide us with a common denominator for the shared struggles that we have today. Proletarianization has not disappeared - it has extended its reach.


西伯利亞的伊凡.米哈伊爾




              西伯利亞七匹狼 / 蔡振興.中國 



  1840年秋天,伊凡.米哈伊爾因犯了咒駡長官罪, 被沙皇的聖彼德堡法庭判刑20年,流放到西伯利亞松果村服苦役。  


  西伯利亞每年有8個月被雪蓋住, 冬天氣溫常在零下四十度至五十五度。四周白雪茫茫,荒蕪人煙, 離此最近的村莊也在2500公里以上,想逃出去必定死在 風雪交加的路途上。  


  伊凡是個有文化的體格健壯的青年, 他在山坡下自己蓋了過冬的木屋,開始適應環境。獄長羅里規定: 犯人可以自由打獵、種植謀生,但不准養狗,不准有木匠工具, 防止犯人做成狗拉雪橇逃出西伯利亞。羅里很壞, 有一個犯人的妻子自願跟丈夫來服苦役,松果村沒什麼村民, 這個犯人的妻子成了當時西伯利亞唯一的女人, 羅里把她的丈夫殺了喂狼,而強要這個女人做他的老婆。  


  伊凡很刻苦能幹,辛苦了一秋,竟富得流油, 山坡下的小木屋裏掛滿了曬幹的雪兔、松鼠、雪雉、蛇、魚、刺蝟、 雪蛙、大泥鰍、豬獾等過冬的食品。冬天來了, 犯人們被零下四五十度的嚴寒逼在各自的窩棚裏。伊凡年輕不怕冷, 竟到高達100米的松果嶺上的森林裏閒逛, 還拾到兩隻凍得鐵硬的雪雉。但是他遇到了兩匹健壯的西伯利亞狼, 一匹公狼從左邊逼近,一匹母狼從右邊靠上來, 它們的眼裏閃出饑餓的綠光。公狼首先撲過來,伊凡飛起一腳, 牛皮靴子猶如一塊重重的石頭,公狼被踢出1米多遠,爬不起來了; 對撲過來的母狼他也用腳猛踢,母狼再也爬不起來了, 這是因為伊凡的力氣太大了,狼也太餓了。 伊凡把兩隻雪雉放在狼嘴邊, 然後回家搬來三四十斤凍硬的鱸魚,對半分開,放在兩匹狼的嘴邊。 這時伊凡對征服兩匹狼有了信心, 因為他第一次放的兩隻雪雉都被狼吃光了。 


  伊凡站了起來,鼓足氣,發威一般地吼。  


  噢嗚─  噢嗚─ 


  這是典型的狼嗥,聲波擊穿了幾乎被冰凍住的空氣, 在松果嶺中響起脆烈的回聲, 震得西伯利亞針葉松上的積雪紛紛地跌落。伊凡要告訴這兩匹狼─ 我也是狼,我是比你們更厲害的狼,我是你們的狼王。  


  第五天早上,伊凡打開厚厚的窩棚木門,但見兩匹狼蹲在10米外, 與他構成一個等腰三角形。狼盯著他,這是被他踢過的兩匹狼, 它們憑嗅覺尋上門來,顯然不是報復,而是表示臣服, 也是乞討食物的意圖。伊凡扔出了食物,它們不客氣地吃了。 他為公狼起名叫亞當,為母狼起名叫夏娃。狼隔三岔五地來討食, 都一一得到滿足。3個月後,亞當、夏娃消除了對伊凡的疑懼, 終於在木屋裏定居下來,與伊凡一起度過了西伯利亞長達8個月的封 雪期。  


  雪化冰消的夏天,亞當、夏娃回歸松果嶺大森林。第二年冬天來了, 一個風雪彌漫之夜,亞當、夏娃領來了它們生育的5匹狼崽子, 小狼沒有經歷過殘酷的生存競爭,對人極依戀, 竟紛紛往伊凡的腿上亂爬。伊凡感動得熱淚盈眶,歎了一口氣:亞 當、夏娃,你們一家子既然投奔我,就和我一道過日子吧! 


  七匹狼引起的食物危機壓迫著伊凡, 他只得用柴火在松果河的厚冰上燒化了一個洞, 用麻線拴著食餌釣魚。那些在厚厚的冰層下憋得發慌的魚兒, 忽見冰洞裏透 進了明亮的陽光,都擁擠過來搶食兒。 第一條被釣起來的是條無鱗黑袍鯰魚,足有10斤重, 它在冰上只扭了三下尾巴,就被凍住了, 畢竟是零下四十多度的嚴寒呀。狼們饑不擇食,互相爭奪,不到3分 鐘,鯰魚就進了狼肚子。那條最小的綽號寶貝兒的小狼最調皮, 竟從蹲著的伊凡背上爬上來,坐到伊凡的狗皮帽上,嗚嗚亂叫,向它的狼哥狼姐們表達著自己的興奮。伊凡釣起的魚像小山, 足有500公斤,他用樹枝編成地排,用麻繩做成轅套, 將魚兒放上去,由七匹狼拖回木屋。  


  夏天又來了,伊凡把狼驅上松果嶺,放歸大自然。一天, 他爬上松果嶺,一聲噢嗚─的狂吼,亞當、 夏娃和已經長大了的小狼們都循著聲音跑了過來,它們見到伊凡, 高興得又蹦又跳又叫,已經長大的小狼們只是瞎胡鬧,亞當、夏娃像 兩位彬彬有禮的紳士,分別用舌頭舔著伊凡的左右手, 表達著它們對這位西伯利亞的兩腳狼王的感激和情意。 伊凡望著自己的這支野狼部隊,腦子突來靈機: 我能夠逃出西伯利亞。  


  伊凡刻苦努力,像一隻老鼠,拼命往洞裏貯備食物。 不久卷起漫天風雪,嚴寒降臨西伯利亞,亞當、 夏娃領著已經長大的小狼們也回到伊凡的木屋裏過冬。 他抱起最小的寶貝兒,歎口氣:“,孩子們,你們筋骨還嫩點兒, 咱們再熬一年吧!”這個冬天裏, 伊凡有意識地馴化它們聯合駕套拖魚。狼們每天把伊凡釣起的魚, 從松果河的冰層上拖回木屋,亞當、夏娃居兩側,中間是五匹小狼, 它們的動作越來越協調。  


  又一個夏天來了,亞當、夏娃帶著逐漸長大的小狼回到松果嶺。 接著是冬天,亞當、夏娃領著它們的子女,照例回到伊凡身邊過冬。 伊凡很高興,因為小狼們已與它們的父母一般高大了。 囚犯們很羡慕伊凡擁有一個狼群,有人稱伊凡為雙腿狼王。 獄長羅里也不當一回事,因為俄羅斯法典規定, 西伯利亞流放犯不得養狗,那 麼就是說除了狗之外,養龍養虎都可以。  


  伊凡以修屋為名,向羅裏借了斧鋸,實際上, 他用結實的西伯利亞針葉松枝椏,造了一架結實的雪橇。 歸還了斧鋸,雪橇則深藏在雪窟裏。每當深夜,伊凡喚出狼群, 進行試拖訓練,漸漸地得心應手。伊凡放手準備著他的逃跑計劃, 因為在零下四五十度的西伯利亞寒冬,還有哪個傻瓜出來走動呢?  


  一天晚上,月明星稀。松果嶺四周的囚犯窩棚死一般地靜。 伊凡喂飽了七匹狼,將一切能吃的裝上雪橇, 七匹狼也各自套上了轅套,他決定逃跑。羅里畢竟是沙皇的爪牙, 他手提一柄雪亮的板斧,突然出現在伊凡的面前。  


  “凡老弟,你借斧鋸修房子,原來是造雪橇呀。 我這柄板斧就是俄羅斯法律,對非徒步逃犯,可以立即處以死刑。”  


  羅里舉起在月光下閃閃發亮的板斧,當頭劈向伊凡。這太突然了, 伊凡來不及思索,飛起一腳,羅裏的板斧竟在空中翻斤斗。 雙方都抬起了頭,伊凡一個搶籃球似的騰跳,抓住了斧柄, 揮手一下子,羅里的半個腦袋掉在雪地上,身子像袋穀子, 倒了下去。來不及出血,創口已被封住,天太冷了。 伊凡把羅里裝上雪橇,連同那半個腦袋,這可是狼的糧食啊!  


  伊凡一揚手,亞當、夏娃首先起步,雪橇沙沙地向東北方向滑行。 一口氣跑到第二天下午,狼們實在疲勞了, 伊凡才在一個雪坡下卸套休息。七匹狼立即偎在一起, 互相取暖休息,那饑餓的目光隨著伊凡忙碌的身影溜溜轉。  


  伊凡抱下羅里的屍體,脫光屍體上的衣服,然後畫了十字,說:“ 為了奪取犯人的妻子而砍死犯人喂狼,今天我也要用你的血肉喂狼, 這是公平交易,你實在一點不吃虧呀!”凡舉起板斧肢解了羅里, 一部分喂狼,大部分裝在雪橇上。他 又用斧子砍出一個雪洞,招呼狼們轉進去,見它們偎在一起了, 再用羅里的大皮襖蓋在它們的身上,讓它們休息長精力。 伊凡吃了點食物,嚼了幾把雪,也挖了一個雪窩轉進去, 貓在裏面打盹,像一隻冬眠的北極熊。  


  究竟休息了幾天幾夜,伊凡也弄不清楚, 因為他是被小狼寶貝兒弄醒的。他被寶貝兒舔醒後鑽出雪窩一看, 所有的狼都排在雪橇旁,夏娃具有雌性的細心, 竟把拱蓋在它們身上的那件羅里的皮襖,用嘴咬著拖到雪橇上。 眾狼顯然已恢復體力,等待餵食、出發。雪橇上有那麼多食物, 但是誰也不敢動,因為它們知道:伊凡是它們的王。  


  狼們的食物仍是羅里的肉。  


  伊凡讓狼拉著雪橇行進,他的目標是東北方向的貝加爾湖。 白天看太陽,晚上參照星星,曉行夜宿地走了一個星期。 羅里的屍肉已轉化為狼們的精力,但還剩下半截毛茸茸的大腿, 而羅里的這半截大腿竟成了危難中的救星。  


  那是一次下午出發的夜行,狼的精神狀態很好,伊凡決定通宵行進。 半夜裏,皓月當空,照著白雪皚皚的西伯利亞雪原。突然, 狼們停步,並且向後逃,而雪橇帶著慣性力反把狼們向前拖, 亞當發出了驚恐的呻吟。伊凡知道遇到了魔鬼, 令惡狼害怕的肯定不是小魔鬼。他定神細看, 只見一團白乎乎的東西正向雪橇靠近,原來是一頭重達1000斤的 西伯利亞虎,它是西伯利亞野生動物食物鏈的終端, 名副其實的西伯利亞動物之王;它的皮毛價值千金, 擁有它一張皮可以成為莫斯科郊外的一個小地主。  


  伊凡握住羅裏的那柄鐵斧,但他知道,搏鬥的結果必將凶多吉少。 他突然靈機一動,舉起羅裏那半截長滿茸毛的大腿, 用力扔向西伯利亞虎。那老虎顯然餓極了,竟撲向空中一口咬住, 然後跑開了。  


  伊凡默默祈禱:呵,謝謝你,大災星!  


  伊凡朝亞當猛抽一鞭,雪橇重新前進,而且速度飛快, 這也許是西伯利亞虎把恐怖納入了狼的心中,它們加速奔跑, 顯然是在逃避那個另它們心驚膽戰的大災星  


  太陽從東邊升起,狼們放慢了腳步, 雪橇在古老蒼涼的西伯利亞雪原上緩緩滑行。伊凡舉目四望, 他在尋找一個避風的溫暖的休息地。突然一陣風卷起一股乾雪, 陣風卷過的雪地上露出一架完整的人體白骨。顯然, 這是西伯利亞的逃犯,他帶著生的欲望,力盡艱辛, 最終未能戰勝嚴酷的大自然,走到這裏倒下, 為人生畫上一個悲慘的句號。伊凡脫下狗皮帽向白骨揮動, 祝亡靈安息。  


  伊凡和他的狼群停停走走地又行進了半個月, 所帶的動物肉乾幾乎吃得精光,饑餓威脅著他和狼群。亞當、 夏娃的套繩一直拉得很緊,負重最大,消耗的體力也最大, 最後竟東倒西歪了。伊凡只得將它們抱到雪橇上,跟他一道休息, 雪橇任由五匹年輕的狼拉著,時快時慢由狼們自己決定。  


  亞當和夏娃趴在羅裏的那件厚皮襖下,一動不動, 這兩匹老狼顯然折騰得筋疲力盡了。不久,亞當呻吟著,搖著頭, 拱開蓋在它頭上的皮襖,兩眼直直地盯著伊凡,似乎在說:“腳狼 王,我不行了!”凡伸出了手,它伸出缺乏粘液的舌頭, 舔著伊凡的手心手背,然後閉上疲憊的眼,很快斷了氣。 伊凡摸摸亞當身邊的夏娃,已經冰硬,它顯然死在亞當之前。  


  在一個避風的緩坡下,伊凡吆喝狼們停止行進,並為它們卸了轅繩。 五匹狼挨個兒成一字形蹲在雪地上,狼眼漠然地望著伊凡。 伊凡看懂了狼們的眼神,那顯然是說:雙腳狼王,我們肚子餓, 再走下去就走不動啦! 


  伊凡沒有理睬它們,他心中有了主意:在狼的王國裏有個規定, 不撕食活著的夥伴,但對死亡的夥伴,它們可以像吃羊一樣吃掉。 伊凡用板斧砍下了亞當、夏娃的頭,將兩個狼頭放置在坡頂雪堆上, 面向東北方。他脫帽致意,祈禱亞當、 夏娃保佑他和它們的子女逃出西伯利亞。然後他剁碎狼肉, 將一部分扔給狼們吃掉,餘下的精打細算,估計能維持三天。 伊凡嚴格掌握著時間,每次只能休息一夜,第二天必須上路, 因為拖延時間就是無謂的消耗,就意味著死亡。 


  第三天早上從宿營地出發前,伊凡自己留下兩塊狼肉, 用強勁的咬嚼肌撕食了,把最後一塊狼肉扔給狼們,瞧著它們吃完。 然後他伸出兩手,把五匹狼摟到胸前, 向這些野獸發表了動情的演說:“子們, 你們吃掉了我一秋積累的肉食,吃掉了該死的獄長羅里, 吃掉了你們的父母,現在我們是沒有一點糧食的窮光蛋啦, 而被雪覆蓋的西伯利亞這鬼地方,我們連螞蟻也找不到一隻。 下一輪,該吃我啦!孩子們,到時你們吃我吧……”伊凡留出了眼淚 ,在每只狼頭上撫摸一下,寶貝兒竟舔著伊凡腮上的淚水。  


  伊凡和狼們繼續出發。  


  坐在雪橇上的伊凡只想著好運氣,在顛簸中不時打盹兒, 一會兒被惡夢嚇醒, 一會兒被好夢笑醒。當他再次醒來時,竟吃驚地站了起來,啊, 前面是一片水晶般的藍光, 那是太陽照在遼闊的冰層上反射出的藍光,哦,是貝加爾湖。 只要到了貝加爾湖,就會有村鎮,就會有人群, 就會有正常人的生存。伊凡揮起鞭子,向狼群狠很地抽去, 雪橇像箭一樣,駛向那眩人眼目的一片藍光… 


  一年後,貝加爾湖北側的葉林娜鎮上, 人們漸漸熟悉了一位名叫斯捷潘諾夫的公民, 他在一家飯館裏當傭工,工作特別賣力, 還比別的傭工每天多幹兩小時, 所要的報酬是食客留下的肉骨頭歸他,因為馴養著五匹狼。  


  斯捷潘諾夫─是否就是伊凡.米哈伊爾, 那位馴狼逃出西伯利亞流放地的雙腿狼王?應當說是的。



「人人有功練」之一




Yeh  這是你們的小弟弟大支
這條歌我要說種族歧視
不是要說白人對黑人也不是黑人對白人
這條歌是台灣人種族歧視台灣人自己
這種人
我需要你們的噓聲
當我給他比"噓"你們就跟我一起"噓"
ok?
這種人.. Come on ! 噓!


噓!我們拿筷子她們要拿刀叉 
噓!她們是把咱台灣人當啥?
噓!妳的刀在割我的肉  
噓!妳拿叉猛插我的心肝
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳這樣我會哈!
 


西餐ㄟ 就西洋菜用刀叉
西餐妹 就筷子不拿的七辣
旁邊站個阿斗ㄚ就愛如潮水
好像ㄇㄟㄇㄟ癢
ㄟ~
我是說好像羊ㄇㄟㄇㄟ
My name is有的名字很長
西餐妹也唸不好
不過沒差反正有英文就好
西餐妹英文超好
阿斗ㄚ問她們 How old are you?
她們回答 Fine Thank You!
她們假裝不會講國語台語
她們不分藍綠
她們的總統是布希
她們吃洋芋看洋具 
西餐妹就是愛洋雞
不過不是王建民的球迷
哈哈
西餐妹
喜歡阿斗ㄚ的體格 
西餐妹
都愛大支的
恩?謝謝~  
我的七辣馬係西餐妹
恩沒錯
因為大家都說我像布萊德彼特


噓!我們拿筷子她們要拿刀叉 
噓!她們是把咱台灣人當啥?
噓!妳的刀在割我的肉  
噓!妳拿叉猛插我的心肝
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳這樣我會哈!


阿斗ㄚ到底是來教英文ㄋㄟ?
還是學中文ㄋㄟ?
其實勒
他們是來主持節目ㄟ
黑人老大主持
我愛黑澀會
白人老二主持
我愛西餐妹
他們除了聽ICRT就是把妹
整天閒閒拿一罐海尼根在PUB走來走去
討論一些沒深度又沒水準的話題
他們都在討論大支的新專輯
我有一個朋友跟阿斗ㄚ作伙
讚!
她說阿斗ㄚ既紳士又浪漫
想說拿個綠卡生個洋娃娃
她現在在夜市賣蚵仔煎
妳說有的阿斗ㄚ馬係不錯
我了解
啊人就一句妳好妳就好可愛煞!
不知
西餐

煞煞去啦
來台灣的這阿斗ㄚ
根本是西莎!


噓!我們拿筷子她們要拿刀叉 
噓!她們是把咱台灣人當啥?
噓!妳的刀在割我的肉  
噓!妳拿叉猛插我的心肝
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳這樣我會哈!


三餐老是在外
西餐妹愛老外
老外老外老外
老外老外老外
三餐老是在外
西餐妹愛老外
老外老外老外
老外老外老外


好多西餐妹喔
我也要去西餐廳
黃種人跟狗!不能進入喔!對不起!
怎麼會有人種族歧視自己?
我說我算台灣黑人吧?
她說
我當你是條狗而已!
妳看不起自己
難怪人看不起妳
那就是為什麼妳去
香港ㄑㄧˋ ㄊㄜˊ
賣擱讓他們一到台灣就都變大鳥博得
他們的臉就
像狗啊吐懶水哈秋到
是!
因為洋根比較屌ㄇㄜ~
黃師父
洋人有槍砲
我們有功夫
覺得外國月亮比較圓的
不管男的女的攏是西餐妹
我們是最屌的
ok?
沒人可以看不起我們欺負我們
只要你們跟我相同
把頭抬高高
西餐妹項?
西餐妹閃 !
我們最嗆最ㄍㄧㄤ
因為我們是台灣人


噓!我們拿筷子她們要拿刀叉 
噓!她們是把咱台灣人當啥?
噓!妳的刀在割我的肉  
噓!妳拿叉猛插我的心肝
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓!妳愛我還是愛阿斗ㄚ
噓......


星期四, 4月 02, 2009

B.H.L.N


感謝  jadejessica


 




Oh well, I love you pretty baby
You're the only love I've ever known
Just as long as you stay with me
The whole world is my throne
Beyond here lies nothin'
Nothin' we can call our own

Well, I'm movin' after midnight
Down boulevards of broken cars
Don't know what I'd do without it
Without this love that we call ours
Beyond here lies nothin'
Nothin' but the moon and stars

Down every street there's a window
And every window's made of glass
We'll keep on lovin' pretty baby
For as long as love will last
Beyond here lies nothin'
But the mountains of the past

Well, my ship is in the harbor
And the sails are spread
Listen to me, pretty baby
Lay your hand upon my head
Beyond here lies nothin'
Nothin' done and nothin' said


星期日, 3月 29, 2009

S. L. M.


 



 



 



Come over to the window, my little darling,
Id like to try to read you palm
I used to think I was some kind of gypsy boy
Before I let you take me home.

Chorus: so long marianne, its time that we began
To laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again

Well, you know that I love to live with you,
But you make me forget so very much
I forget to pray for the angel
And then the angels forget to pray for us.

Chorus

We met when we were almost young
Deep in the green lilac park
You held on to me like I was a crucifix
As we went kneeling through the dark.

Chorus

Your letters say that you are beside me now
Then why do I feel alone?
Im standing on a ledge and your fine spider web
Is fastening my ankle to a stone.

Chorus

For now I need your hidden love
Im cold as a new razor blade
You left when I told you I was curious
I never said that I was brave.

Chorus

O you are really such a pretty one
I see youve gone and changed your name again
And just when I climbed this whole mountainside
To wash my eyelids in the rain.


星期一, 3月 23, 2009

S. H. B









Johnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doin' it again
You better duck down the alleyway
Lookin' for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap
In the pig pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin' that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
Phone's tapped anyway
Maggie says the men they say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D. A.
Look out kid
Don't matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don’t try No-Doz
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don't need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows

Get sick, get well
Hang around a ink well
Hangin' bell, hard to tell
If anything is gonna sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, ride rail
Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army if you fail
Look out kid
You're gonna get hit
By losers, cheaters
Six-time users
Hangin' 'round the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin' for a new fool
Don't follow leaders
Watch the parkin' meters

Oh get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance
Learn to dance, get dressed
Get blessed, try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Ya can't afford the scandal
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handle


星期三, 3月 18, 2009

星期一, 3月 16, 2009

星期日, 3月 15, 2009

E.L.O.



Note: Symphonic Rock is not the orchestral rendition of hit Rock and Pop songs by classical orchestras; these can be considered "classical arrangements of contemporary music", though these are at times marketed as "symphonic rock" by various outlets.






星期一, 3月 09, 2009

歡活在怡人的藍色裡~


 


 


 


In lieblicher Bläue blühet


                                                                                                 --Friedrich Hölderlin
 
In lieblicher Bläue blühet
mit dem metallenen Dache der Kirchthurm. Den umschwebet
Geschrei der Schwalben, den umgiebt die rührendste Bläue.
Die Sonne gehet hoch darüber und färbet das Blech,
im Winde aber oben stille krähet die Fahne.
Wenn einer unter der Gloke dann herabgeht, jene Treppen,
ein stilles Leben ist es, weil,
wenn abgesondert so sehr die Gestalt ist,
die Bildsamkeit herauskommt dann des Menschen.
Die Fenster, daraus die Gloken tönen, sind wie Thore an Schönheit.
Nemlich, weil noch der Natur nach sind die Thore,
haben diese die Ähnlichkeit von Bäumen des Walds.
Reinheit aber ist auch Schönheit.
Innen aus Verschiedenem entsthet ein ernster Geist.
So sehr einfältig aber die Bilder, so sehr heilig sind die, daß
man wirklich oft fürchtet, die zu beschreiben.
Die Himmlischen aber, die immer gut sind,
alles zumal, wie Reiche, haben diese, Tugend und Freude.
Der Mensch darf das nachahmen.
Darf, wenn lauter Mühe das Leben, ein Mensch
aufschauen und sagen: so will ich auch seyn?
Ja. So lange die Freundlichkeit noch am Herzen, die Reine,
dauert, misset nicht unglüklich der Mensch sich
der Gottheit.
Ist unbekannt Gott? Ist er offenbar wie die Himmel?
dieses glaub' ich eher. Des Menschen Maaß ist's.
Voll Verdienst, doch dichterisch,
wohnet der Mensch auf dieser Erde. Doch reiner
ist nicht der Schatten der Nacht mit den Sternen,
wenn ich so sagen könnte,
als der Mensch, der heißet ein Bild der Gottheit. 
 
 
Giebt auf Erden ein Maaß?
Es giebt keines. Nemlich
es hemmen der Donnergang nie die Welten des Schöpfers.
Auch eine Blume ist schön, weil sie blühet unter der Sonne.
Es findet das Aug' oft im Leben
Wesen, die viel schöner noch zu nennen wären
als die Blumen. O! ich weiß das wohl!
Denn zu bluten an Gestalt und Herz,
und ganz nicht mehr zu seyn, gefällt das Gott?
Die Seele aber, wie ich glaube, muß rein bleiben,
sonst reicht an das Mächtige auf Fittigen der Adler mit lobendem Gesange
und der Stimme so vieler Vögel.
Es ist die Wesenheit, die Gestalt ist's.
Du schönes Bächlein, du scheinest rührend, indem du rollest so klar,
wie das Auge der Gottheit, durch die Milchstraße.
Ich kenne dich wohl,
aber Thränen quillen aus dem Auge. Ein heiteres Leben
seh' ich in den Gestalten mich umblühen der Schöpfung, weil
ich es nicht unbillig vergleiche den einsamen Tauben auf dem Kirchhof.
Das Lachen aber scheint mich zu grämen der Menschen,
nemlich ich hab' ein Herz.
Möcht' ich ein Komet seyn?
Ich glaube. Denn sie haben Schnelligkeit der Vögel; sie blühen an Feuer,
und sind wie Kinder an Reinheit.
Größeres zu wünschen, kann nicht des Menschen Natur sich vermessen.
Der Tugend Heiterkeit verdient auch gelobt zu werden vom ernsten Geiste,
der zwischen den drei Säulen wehet
des Gartens. Eine schöne Jungfrau muß das Haupt umkränzen
mit Myrthenblumen, weil sie einfach ist
ihrem Wesen nach und ihrem Gefühl. Myrthen aber
giebt es in Griechenland. 
 
 
Wenn einer in der Spiegel siehet,
ein Mann, und siehet darinn sein Bild,wie abgemahlt;
es gleicht dem Manne.
Augen hat des Menschen Bild,
hingegen Licht der Mond.
Der König Ödipus hat ein Auge zuviel vieleicht.
Diese Leiden dieses Mannes, sie scheinen unbeschreiblich, unaussprechlich,
unausdrüklich.
Wenn das Schauspiel ein solches darstellt, kommt's daher.
Wie ist mir's aber, gedenk' ich deiner jetzt?
Wie Bäche reißt des Ende von Etwas mich dahin,
welches sich wie Asien ausdehnet.
Natürlich dieses Leiden, das hat Ödipus.
Natürlich ist's darum.
Hat auch Herkules gelitten?
Wohl. Die Dioskuren in ihrer Freundschaft
haben die nicht Leiden auch getragen? Nemlich
wie Herkules mit Gott zu streiten, das ist Leiden.
Und die Unsterblichkeit im Neide dieses Leben,
diese zu theilen, ist ein Leiden auch.
Doch das ist auch ein Leiden, wenn mit Sommerfleken ist bedekt ein Mensch,
mit manchen Fleken ganz überdekt zu seyn! das thut die schöne Sonne :
nemlich die ziehet alles auf.
Die Jünglinge führt die Bahn sie mit Reizen ihrer Strahlen
wie mit Rosen.
Die Leiden scheinen so,
die Ödipus getragen,
als wie ein armer Mann klagt,
daß ihm etwas fehle.
Sohn Laios, armer Fremdling in Griechenland!
Leben ist Tod, und Tod ist auch ein Leben.


星期五, 3月 06, 2009

星期二, 3月 03, 2009

黃金組合系列-1:四個英國佬


 




 


Now look at them yo-yos thats the way you do it You play the guitar on the mtv That aint workin thats the way you do it Money for nothin and chicks for free Now that aint workin thats the way you do it Lemme tell ya them guys aint dumb Maybe get a blister on your little finger Maybe get a blister on your thumb We gotta install microwave ovens Custom kitchen deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these colour tvs See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup Yeah buddy thats his own hair That little faggot got his own jet airplane That little faggot hes a millionaire We gotta install microwave ovesns Custom kitchens deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these colour tvs I shoulda learned to play the guitar I shoulda learned to play them drums Look at that mama, she got it stickin in the camera Man we could have some fun And hes up there, whats that? hawaiian noises? Bangin on the bongoes like a chimpanzee That aint workin thats the way you do it Get your money for nothin get your chicks for free We gotta install microwave ovens Custom kitchen deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these colour tvs, lord Now that aint workin thats the way you do it You play the guitar on the mtv That aint workin thats the way you do it Money for nothin and your chicks for free Money for nothin and chicks for free


星期一, 3月 02, 2009

むらかみ はるき在耶路撒冷:Always on the side of the egg









 


 


I have come to Jerusalem today as a novelist, which is to say as a professional spinner of lies.

Of course, novelists are not the only ones who tell lies. Politicians do it, too, as we all know. Diplomats and military men tell their own kinds of lies on occasion, as do used car salesmen, butchers and builders. The lies of novelists differ from others, however, in that no one criticizes the novelist as immoral for telling them. Indeed, the bigger and better his lies and the more ingeniously he creates them, the more he is likely to be praised by the public and the critics. Why should that be?

The reason for this, of course, was the fierce battle that was raging in Gaza. The UN reported that more than a thousand people had lost their lives in the blockaded Gaza City, many of them unarmed citizens - children and old people.

This is not to say that I am here to deliver a political message. To make judgments about right and wrong is one of the novelist's most important duties, of course.

It is left to each writer, however, to decide upon the form in which he or she will convey those judgments to others. I myself prefer to transform them into stories - stories that tend toward the surreal. Which is why I do not intend to stand before you today delivering a direct political message.

Please do, however, allow me to deliver one very personal message. It is something that I always keep in mind while I am writing fiction. I have never gone so far as to write it on a piece of paper and paste it to the wall: Rather, it is carved into the wall of my mind, and it goes something like this:

"Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will always stand on the side of the egg."

Yes, no matter how right the wall may be and how wrong the egg, I will stand with the egg. Someone else will have to decide what is right and what is wrong; perhaps time or history will decide. If there were a novelist who, for whatever reason, wrote works standing with the wall, of what value would such works be?

What is the meaning of this metaphor? In some cases, it is all too simple and clear. Bombers and tanks and rockets and white phosphorus shells are that high, solid wall. The eggs are the unarmed civilians who are crushed and burned and shot by them. This is one meaning of the metaphor.

This is not all, though. It carries a deeper meaning. Think of it this way. Each of us is, more or less, an egg. Each of us is a unique, irreplaceable soul enclosed in a fragile shell. This is true of me, and it is true of each of you. And each of us, to a greater or lesser degree, is confronting a high, solid wall. The wall has a name: It is The System. The System is supposed to protect us, but sometimes it takes on a life of its own, and then it begins to kill us and cause us to kill others - coldly, efficiently, systematically.

I have only one reason to write novels, and that is to bring the dignity of the individual soul to the surface and shine a light upon it. The purpose of a story is to sound an alarm, to keep a light trained on The System in order to prevent it from tangling our souls in its web and demeaning them. I fully believe it is the novelist's job to keep trying to clarify the uniqueness of each individual soul by writing stories - stories of life and death, stories of love, stories that make people cry and quake with fear and shake with laughter. This is why we go on, day after day, concocting fictions with utter seriousness.

My father died last year at the age of 90. He was a retired teacher and a part-time Buddhist priest. When he was in graduate school, he was drafted into the army and sent to fight in China. As a child born after the war, I used to see him every morning before breakfast offering up long, deeply-felt prayers at the Buddhist altar in our house. One time I asked him why he did this, and he told me he was praying for the people who had died in the war.

He was praying for all the people who died, he said, both ally and enemy alike. Staring at his back as he knelt at the altar, I seemed to feel the shadow of death hovering around him.

My father died, and with him he took his memories, memories that I can never know. But the presence of death that lurked about him remains in my own memory. It is one of the few things I carry on from him, and one of the most important.

I have only one thing I hope to convey to you today. We are all human beings, individuals transcending nationality and race and religion, fragile eggs faced with a solid wall called The System. To all appearances, we have no hope of winning. The wall is too high, too strong - and too cold. If we have any hope of victory at all, it will have to come from our believing in the utter uniqueness and irreplaceability of our own and others' souls and from the warmth we gain by joining souls together.

Take a moment to think about this. Each of us possesses a tangible, living soul. The System has no such thing. We must not allow The System to exploit us. We must not allow The System to take on a life of its own. The System did not make us: We made The System.

That is all I have to say to you.

I am grateful to have been awarded the Jerusalem Prize. I am grateful that my books are being read by people in many parts of the world. And I am glad to have had the opportunity to speak to you here today.


Gallant Freddie..



 




Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a landslide-
No escape from reality-
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see-
Im just a poor boy,i need no sympathy-
Because Im easy come,easy go,
A little high,little low,
Anyway the wind blows,doesnt really matter to me,
To me

Mama,just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger,now hes dead,
Mama,life had just begun,
But now Ive gone and thrown it all away-
Mama ooo,
Didnt mean to make you cry-
If Im not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on,carry on,as if nothing really matters-

Too late,my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine-
Bodys aching all the time,
Goodbye everybody-Ive got to go-
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth-
Mama ooo- (any way the wind blows)
I dont want to die,
I sometimes wish Id never been born at all-

I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche,scaramouche will you do the fandango-
Thunderbolt and lightning-very very frightening me-
Galileo,galileo,
Galileo galileo
Galileo figaro-magnifico-
But Im just a poor boy and nobody loves me-
Hes just a poor boy from a poor family-
Spare him his life from this monstrosity-
Easy come easy go-,will you let me go-
Bismillah! no-,we will not let you go-let him go-
Bismillah! we will not let you go-let him go
Bismillah! we will not let you go-let me go
Will not let you go-let me go
Will not let you go let me go
No,no,no,no,no,no,no-
Mama mia,mama mia,mama mia let me go-
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,for me,for me-

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye-
So you think you can love me and leave me to die-
Oh baby-cant do this to me baby-
Just gotta get out-just gotta get right outta here-

Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters-,nothing really matters to me,

Any way the wind blows....


Organic Metalica!


 



 



Say your prayers little one Dont forget, my son To include everyone Tuck you in, warm within Keep you free from sin Till the sandman he comes Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight Exit light Enter night Take my hand Off to never never land Somethings wrong, shut the light Heavy thoughts tonight And they arent of snow white Dreams of war, dreams of liars Dreams of dragons fire And of things that will bite Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight Exit light Enter night Take my hand Off to never never land Now I lay me down to sleep Pray the lord my soul to keep If I die before I wake Pray the lord my soul to take Hush little baby, dont say a word And never mind that noise you heard Its just the beast under your bed, In your closet, in your head Exit light Enter night Grain of sand Exit light Enter night Take my hand Were off to never never land


Dubliner except joyce.. Irish Wave III


 



 




As I was a goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier Saying "Stand and deliver" for he were a bold deceiver


Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar


I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me But the devil take the women for they never can be easy


I went up to my chamber, all for to take a slumber I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure 't was no wonder But Jenny blew me charges and she filled them up with water Then sent for captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter


't was early in the morning, just before I rose to travel Up comes a band of footmen and likewise captain Farrell I first produced me pistol for she stole away me rapier I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken


Now there's some take delight in the carriages a rolling and others take delight in the hurling and the bowling but I take delight in the juice of the barley and courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early


If anyone can aid me 't is my brother in the army If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney And if he'll go with me, we'll go rovin' through Killkenny And I'm sure he'll treat me better than my own a-sporting Jenny


 



Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak Somewhere in this town See me and the boys we dont like it So were getting up and going down Hiding low looking right to left If you see us coming I think its best To move away do you hear what I say From under my breath Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak Somewhere in the town Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak So dont you be around Dont you be around Tonight theres gonna be trouble Some of us wont survive See the boys and me mean business Bustin out dead or alive I can hear the hound dogs on my trail All hell breaks loose, alarm and sirens wail Like the game if you lose Go to jail Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak Somewhere in the town Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak So dont you be around Tonight theres gonna trouble Im gonna find myself in Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak So woman stay with a friend You know its safer Breakout! Tonight theres gonna be a breakout Into the city zones Dont you dare to try and stop us No one could for long Searchlight on my trail Tonights the night all systems fail Hey you good lookin female Come here! Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak Somewhere in the town Tonight theres gonna be a jailbreak So dont you be around Tonight theres gonna be trouble Im gonna find myself in Tonight theres gonna be trouble So woman stay with a friend








There was a friend of mine on murder And the judges gavel fell Jury found him guilty Gave him sixteen years in hell He said I aint spending my life here I aint living alone Aint breaking no rocks on the chain gang Im breakin out and headin home Gonna make a jailbreak And Im lookin towards the sky Im gonna make a jailbreak Oh, how I wish that I could fly All in the name of liberty All in the name of liberty Got to be free Jailbreak, let me out of here Jailbreak, sixteen years Jailbreak, had more than I can take Jailbreak, yeah He said hed seen his lady being fooled with By another man She was down and he was up He had a gun in his hand Bullets started flying everywhere And people started to scream Big man lying on the ground With a hole in his body Where his life had been But it was - All in the name of liberty All in the name of liberty I got to be free Jailbreak, jailbreak I got to break out Out of here Heartbeats they were racin Freedom he was chasin Spotlights, sirens, rifles firing But he made it out With a bullet in his back









I am just a cowboy lonesome on the trail A starry night, a campfire light The coyote call, the howling winds wail So I ride out to the old sundown I am just a cowboy lonesome on the trail Lord, Im just thinking about a certain female The nights we spent together riding on the range Looking back it seems so strange Roll me over and turn me around Let me keep spinning till I hit the ground Roll me over and let me go Running free with the buffalo I was took in texas I did not know her name Lord, all these southern girls seem the same Down below the border in a town in mexico I got my job busting broncs for the rodeo Roll me over and turn me around Let me keep spinning till I hit the ground Roll me over and let me go Riding in the rodeo Roll me over and set me free The cowboys life is the life for me


 



Guess who just got back today? Them wild-eyed boys that had been away Haven't changed, haven't much to say But man, I still think them cats are crazy They were asking if you were around How you was, where you could be found Told them you were living downtown Driving all the old men crazy The boys are back in town The boys are back in town I said The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town You know that chick that used to dance a lot Every night she'd be on the floor shaking what she'd got Man when I tell you she was cool, she was red hot I mean she was steaming And that time over at Johnny's place Well this chick got up and she slapped Johnny's face Man we just fell about the place If that chick don't want to know, forget her The boys are back in town The boys are back in town I said The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town Spread the word around Guess who's back in town You spread the word around Friday night they'll be dressed to kill Down at Dino's bar and grill The drink will flow and blood will spill And if the boys want to fight, you'd better let them That jukebox in the corner blasting out my favorite song The nights are getting warmer, it won't be long Won't be long till summer comes Now that the boys are here again The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boys are back in town Spread the word around The boys are back in town The boys are back in town The boy's are back, the boys are back The boy's are back in town again Been hangin' down at Dino's The boy's are back in town again

星期五, 2月 27, 2009

Masturbation, or Sexuality in the Atonal World

Slavoj Zizek 


Today’s predominant mode of politics is the post-political biopolitics [1] an expression which is effectively tautological: “post-politics” designates the reduction of politics to the expert administration of social life. Such a politics is ultimately a politics of fear, a politics focused on the defense against a potential victimization or harassment. Therein resides the true line of separation between radical emancipatory politics and the predominant status quo politics: it is not the difference of two different positive visions, sets of axioms, but, rather, the difference between the politics based on a set of universal axioms and the politics which renounces the very constitutive dimension of the political, since it resorts to fear as its ultimate mobilizing principle: fear of immigrants, fear of crime, fear of godless sexual depravity, fear of the excessive State itself (with too high taxation), fear of ecological catastrophes, fear of harassment (which is why Political Correctness is the exemplary liberal form of the politics of fear) - such a (post)politics always relies on the manipulation of a paranoid ochlos - the frightening rallying of frightened men. The zero-level of politics today is the depoliticized expert administration and coordination of interests; the only way to introduce passion into this field, to actively mobilize people, is through fear. At the level of social objectivity, we have mechanisms and processes to be regulated by expert administrators; the subjective counterpart of it is fear, the basic constituent of today’s subjectivity. This is why the big event not only in Europe in the early 2006 was that the anti-immigration politics “went mainstream”: they finally cut the umbilical link that connected them to the far Right fringe parties. From France to Germany, from Austria to Holland, in the new spirit of pride at one’s cultural and historical identity, the main parties now find it acceptable to stress that the immigrants “are guests who have to accommodate themselves to the cultural values that define the host society - it is “our country, love it or leave it.” 


This fear is, at its most basic, the fear of the Neighbor. There are two topics which determine today’s liberal tolerant attitude towards Others: the respect of Otherness, openness towards it, and the obsessive fear of harassment - in short, the Other is OK insofar as its presence is not intrusive, insofar as the Other is not really Other… In the strict homology with the paradoxical structure of chocolate laxative, tolerance this coincides with its opposite: my duty to be tolerant towards the other effectively means that I should not get too close to him, not to intrude into his/her space - in short, that I should respect his/her intolerance towards my over-proximity. This is what is more and more emerging as the central “human right” in late-capitalist society: the right not to be “harassed,” i.e., to be kept at a safe distance from the others. 


The post-political biopolitics also has two aspects which cannot but appear as belonging to two opposite ideological spaces: that of the reduction of humans to bare life, to homo sacer as the object of the expert caretaking knowledge; [2] and that of the respect for the vulnerable Other brought to extreme, of the attitude of narcissistic subjectivity which experiences itself as vulnerable, constantly exposed to a multitude of potential “harassments.” Is there a stronger contrast than the one between the respect for the Other’s vulnerability and the reduction of the Other to “mere life” regulated by the administrative knowledge? But what if these two stances nonetheless rely on the same root, what if they are the two aspects of one and the same underlying attitude, what if they coincide in what one is tempted to designate as the contemporary case of the Hegelian “infinite judgment” which asserts the identity of opposites? What the two poles share is precisely the underlying refusal of any higher Causes, the notion that the ultimate goal of our lives is life itself. This is why there is no contradiction between the respect for the vulnerable Other and the readiness to justify torture, the extreme expression of treating individuals as homini sacer. 


In The End of Faith, Sam Harris defense of torture is based on the distinction between our immediate being- impressed by the suffering of others and our abstract notion of others’ suffering: it is much more difficult for us to torture a singular person than to drop a bomb from a far distance that would cause the even more painful death of thousands. We are thus all caught in a kind of ethical Illusion, parallel to perceptual illusions; the ultimate cause of these illusions is that, although our power of abstract reasoning has developed immensely, our emotional- ethical responses remain conditioned by hundreds of thousands years old instinctual reactions of sympathy to suffering and pain that is directly witnessed. This is why shooting someone point-blank is for most of us much more repulsive than pressing a button that will kill thousand absent persons: 


Given what many of us believe about the exigencies of our war on terrorism, the practice of torture, in certain circumstances, would seem to be not only permissible but necessary. Still, it does not seem any more acceptable, in ethical terms, than it did before. The reasons for this are, I trust, every bit as neurological as those that give rise to the moon illusion. /…/ It may be time to take out our rulers and hold them up to the sky. [3] 


No wonder that Harris refers to Alan Derschowitz and his legitimization of torture. [4] In order to suspend this evolutionary conditioned vulnerability to the physical display of other’s suffering, Harris imagines an ideal “truth pill,” an effective torture equivalent to decaf coffee or diet coke: 


a drug that would deliver both the instruments of torture and the instrument of their utter concealment. The action of the pill would be to produce transitory paralysis and transitory misery of a kind that no human being would willingly submit to a second time. Imagine how we torturers would feel if, after giving this pill to captive terrorists, each lay down for what appeared to be an hour’s nap only to arise and immediately confess everything he knows about the workings of his organization. Might we not be tempted to call it a ‘truth pill’ in the end?” [5] 


The very first lines - “a drug that would deliver both the instruments of torture and the instrument of their utter concealment” - introduces the typically postmodern logic of chocolate laxative: the torture imagined here is like a decaf coffee - we get the result without having to suffer unpleasant side-effects. The first reaction: at the notorious Serbsky Institute in Moscow (the psychiatric outlet of the KGB), they already invented a similar drug to torture dissidents, an injection into the prisoner’s heart zone which slowed down his heart beating and caused terrifying anxiety - viewed from outside, the prisoner seemed just dozing, while he was going through a nightmare… The further problem is that Harris violates here his own rule when he focuses on September 11, and in his critique of Chomsky: the point of Chomsky is precisely the hypocrisy of tolerating the abstract-anonymous killing of thousands while condemning individual cases of the violation of human rights - why is Kissinger, when he ordered the carpet bombing of Cambodia that led to the death of tens of thousands, less a criminal than those responsible for the Twin Towers collapse? Is it not that because we are precisely victims of the “ethical illusion”: the horror of September 11 was presented in detail in the media, while - to take another case - when the al-Jazeera TV shows shots of the results of the US bombing of Faludja is condemned for its complicity with the terrorists… 


There is, however, a much more disquieting prospect at work here: the proximity (of the tortured subject) which causes sympathy and makes torture unacceptable is not a mere physical proximity, but, at its most fundamental, the proximity of the Neighbor (with all the Judeo-Christian- Freudian weight on this term), of the Thing which, no matter how far away it is physically, is always by definition “too close.” Consequently, what Harris aims at with his imagined “truth pill” is nothing less than the abolition of the dimension of the Neighbor: the tortured subject is no longer a Neighbor, but an object whose pain is neutralized, reduced to a property that has to be dealt with in a rational utilitarian calculus (so much pain is tolerable if it prevents a much greater amount of pain) - what disappears here is the abyss of the infinity that pertains to a subject. It is thus significant that the book which argues for torture is also the book entitled The End. of Faith - not, however, in the obvious sense of “You see, it is only our belief in God, the divine in junction to love your neighbor, that ultimately prevents us from torturing people!”, but in a much more radical sense. Another subject (and, ultimately, subject as such) is for Lacan not something directly given, but a “presupposition,” something presumed, an object of belief - how can I ever be sure that what I see in front of me is another subject, not a depthless flat biological machine? 


What kind of sexuality fits this universe? On August 6 2006, London was hosting the UK’s first “masturbate-a- thon,” a collective event in which hundreds of men and women pleasured themselves for charity (raising money for sexual and reproductive health agencies), and to raise the awareness of, and dispel the shame and taboos that persist around, this most commonplace, natural and safe form of sexual activity. The formula was invented at Good Vibrations (a San Francisco sex health company) as part of the National Masturbation Month, which they founded and have been hosting since 1995, when the original San Francisco M-A-T took place. Here is how Dr. Carol Queen justifies it: 


We live in a society in which sexual expression has always been legislated and restricted and the pursuit of pure pleasure is frequently condemned as selfish and childish. A lot of people who consider themselves free of sexual hang-ups have simply rewritten the equation ’sex is only good if it involves procreation’ to ’sex is only good if it involves two loving people.’ /…/ Masturbation is our first sexual activity, a natural source of pleasure that’s available to us throughout our lives, and a unique form of creative self-expression. Each time you masturbate, you’re celebrating your sexuality and your innate capacity for pleasure, so give yourself a hand! /…/ Masturbation can be a radical act, and the culture that suppresses masturbation may suppress many other personal freedoms as well. While celebrating National Masturbation Month and doing your part to bring self love out of the closet, keep in mind that erotic freedom is essential to true well-being, everywhere. [6] 


The ideological stance underlying the notion of “masturbathon” is marked by a conflict between its form and content: it builds a collective out of individuals who are ready to share with others - what? The solipsistic egotism of their stupid enjoyment. This contradiction, however, is more apparent than real: Freud already knew about the link between narcissism and immersion into crowd, best rendered precisely by the California phrase “to share an experience.” This coincidence of the opposed features is grounded in the exclusion that they share: one not only can be, one IS “alone in a crowd,” i.e., both an individual’s isolation and his/her immersion into a crowd exclude intersubjectivity proper, encounter with an Other. (This is why, as Alain Badiou deployed in a perspicuous way, today, more than ever, one should insist on the focus on love, not mere enjoyment: it is love, the encounter of the Two, which “transubstantiates” the idiotic masturbatory enjoyment into an event proper.) [7] A minimally refined sensitivity tells us that it is more difficult to masturbate in front on an other than to be engaged in a sexual interaction with him/her: the very fact that the other is reduced to an observer, not participating in my activity, makes my act much more “shameful” - this is why events like “masturbathon” signal the end of shame proper. “Masturbathon” is thus one of the clearest indications of where do we stand today, of the ideology which sustains our most intimate self-experience - it is sufficient to reread the list of reasons “why masturbate” proposed by Queen: 


1. Because sexual pleasure is each person’s birthright.


2. Because masturbation is the ultimate safe sex.


3. Because masturbation is a joyous expression of self love.


4. Because masturbation offers numerous health benefits including menstrual cramp relief, stress reduction, endorphin release, stronger pelvic muscles, reduction of prostate gland infection for men and resistance to yeast infections for women.


5. Because masturbation is an excellent cardiovascular workout.


6. Because each person is their own best lover.


7. Because masturbation increases sexual awareness. 


Everything is here: increased self-awareness, health benefits, struggle against social oppression, the most radical Politically Correct stance (here, for sure, nobody is harassed), and the affirmation of sexual pleasure at its most elementary - “each person is their (sic) own best lover.” The use of the expression usually reserved for homosexuals (masturbation “brings self love out of the closet”) hints at a kind of implicit teleology of the gradual exclusion of all otherness: first, in homosexuality, the other sex is excluded (one does it with another person of the same sex); then, in a kind of mockingly-Hegelian negation of negation, the very dimension of otherness is cancelled, one does it with oneself. 


In December 2006, the New York City authorities declared that the right to chose one’s gender (and so, if necessary, to have the sex-change operation performed) is one of the inalienable human rights - the ultimate Difference, the “transcendental” difference that grounds the very human identity, thus turns into something open to manipulation - the ultimate plasticity of being-human is thoroughly asserted. “Masturbathon” is the ideal form of the sex activity of this trans-gendered subject, or, in other words, of “you,” of the subject elevated into the “Person of the Year” by the December 18 issue of the Time magazine. This annual honor went not to Ahmadinejad, Chavez, Kim Yong-Il, or another member of the gang of usual suspects, but to “you”: each and every one of us… who is using or creating content on the World Wide Web. The cover showed a white keyboard with a mirror for a computer screen where each of us, readers, can see his or her own reflection. To justify the choice, the editors cited the shift from institutions to individuals who are re-emerging as the citizens of the new digital democracy. 


There is more than meet the eye in this choice, in more than the usual sense of the term. If there ever was an ideological choice, this is it: the message - new cyber- democracy in which millions can directly communicate and self-organize, by-passing centralized state control - covers up a series of disturbing gaps and tensions. The first and obvious point of irony is that what everyone who looks at the Time cover does not see others with whom he or she is supposed to be in direct exchange - what he sees is the mirror-image of him- or herself. No wonder that Leibniz is one of the predominant philosophical references of the cyberspace theorists: does our immersion into cyberspace not go hand in hand with our reduction to a Leibnizean monad which, although “without windows” that would directly open up to external reality, mirrors in itself the entire universe? Is the typical World Wide Web surfer today, sitting alone in front of a PC screen, not more and more a monad with no direct windows onto reality, encountering only virtual simulacra, and yet immersed more than ever into the global network, synchronously communicating with the entire globe? “Masturbathon,” which builds a collective out of individuals who are ready to share the solipsism of their own stupid enjoyment, is the form of sexuality which fits perfectly the cyberspace coordinates. 


Alain Badiou [8] develops the notion of “atonal” worlds (monde atone), worlds lacking a “point,” in Lacanese: the “quilting point” (point de caption ), the intervention of a Master-Signifier that imposes a principle of “ordering” onto the world, the point of a simple decision (”yes or no”) in which the confused multiplicity is violently reduced to a “minimal difference.” That is to say, what is a Master-Signifier? [9] In the very last pages of his monumental Second World War, Winston Churchill ponders on the enigma of a political decision: after the specialists (economic and military analysts, psychologists, meteorologists…) propose their multiple, elaborated and refined analysis, somebody must assume the simple and for that very reason most difficult act of transposing this complex multitude, where for every reason for there are two reasons against, and vice versa, into a simple “Yes” or “No” - we shall attack, we continue to wait… None other John F. Kennedy provided a concise description of this point: “The essence of ultimate decision remains impenetrable to the observer - often, indeed, to the decider himself.” This gesture which can never be fully grounded in reasons, is that of a Master. 


The basic feature of our “postmodern” world is that it tries to dispense with this agency of the Master-Signifier- the complexity” of the world should be asserted unconditionally, every Master-Signifier meant to impose some order on it should be “deconstructed,” dispersed disseminated”: “The modern apology of the complexity of the world /…/ is really nothing but a generalized desire of atony. [10] Badiou’s excellent example of such an “atonal” world is the Politically Correct vision of sexuality, as promoted by gender studies, with its obsessive rejection of binary logic”: this world is a nuanced, ramified world of multiple sexual practices which tolerates no decision no instance of the Two, no evaluation (in the strong Nietzschean sense of the term). 


Therein resides the interest of Michel Houellebecq’s novels: [11] he endlessly varies the motif of the failure of the Event of love in contemporary Western societies characterized by “the collapse of religion and tradition the unrestrained worship of pleasure and youth, and the prospect of a future totalized by scientific rationality and :oylessness.” [12] Therein resides the dark side of the sexual liberation” of the 1960s: the full commodification of sexuality. Houellebecq depicts the morning after Sexual Revolution, the sterility of the universe dominated by the superego injunction to enjoy. All of his work focuses on the antinomy of love and sexuality: sex is an absolute necessity, to renounce it is to whither away, so love cannot flourish without sex; simultaneously, however, love is impossible precisely because of sex: sex, which “proliferates as the epitome of late capitalism’s dominance, has permanently stained human relationships as inevitable reproductions of the dehumanizing nature of liberal society; it has, essentially, ruined love.” [13] Sex is thus, to put it in Derridean terms, simultaneously the condition of possibility and of impossibility of love. 


This is why Houellebecq’s Les particules elemental [14] is the story of radical DESUBLIMATION, if there ever was one: in our postmodern “disenchanted” permissive world sexuality is reduced to an apathetic participation in ‘ collective orgies. Les particules, a superb example of what some critics perspicuously baptized “Left conservatism,” tells the story of two half-brothers: Bruno, a high-school teacher, is an undersexed hedonist, while Michel is a brilliant but emotionally desiccated biochemist. Abandoned by their hippie mother when they were small, neither has ever properly recovered; all their attempts at the pursuit of happiness, whether through marriage, the study of philosophy, or the consumption of pornography, merely lead to loneliness and frustration. Bruno ends up in a psychiatric asylum after confronting the meaninglessness of the permissive sexuality (the utterly depressive descriptions of the sexual orgies between forty-somethings are among the most excruciating readings in contemporary literature), while Michel invents a solution: a new self-replicating gene for the post-human desexualized entity. The novel ends with a prophetic vision: in 2040, humanity is replaced by these humanoids who experience no passions proper, no intense self-assertion that can lead to destructive rage. 


Almost four decades ago, Michel Foucault dismissed “man” as a figure in the sand that is now being washed away, introducing the (then) fashionable topic of the “death of man.” Although Houellebecq stages this disappearance in much more naive literal terms, as the replacement of humanity with a new post-human species, there is a common denominator between the two: the disappearance of sexual difference. In his last works Foucault envisioned the space of pleasures liberated from Sex, and one is tempted to claim that Houellebecq’s post-human society of clones is the realization of the Foucauldian dream of the Selves who practice the “use of pleasures.” While this solution is the fantasy at its purest, the deadlock to which it reacts is a real one - how are we to get out of it? The standard way would be to somehow try to resurrect the transgressive erotic passion following the well-known principle, first fully asserted in the tradition of the courtly love, that the only true love is the transgressive prohibited one - we need new Prohibitions, so that a new Tristan and Isolde or Romeo and Juliet will appear… The problem is that, in today’s permissive society, transgression itself is the norm. Which, then, is the way out? One should recall here the ultimate lesson of Lacan concerning sublimation: in a way true sublimation is exactly the same as desublimation. Let’s take a love relationship: “sublime” is not the cold elevated figure of the Lady who had to remain beyond our reach - if she were to step down from her pedestal, she would turn into a repulsive filth. “Sublime” is the magic combination of the two dimensions, when the sublime dimension transpires through the utmost common details of the everyday shared life - the “sublime” moment of the love life occurs when the magic dimension transpires even in the common everyday acts like washing the dishes or cleaning the apartment. (In this precise sense, sublimation is to be opposed to idealization.) 


Perhaps the best way to specify this role of sexual love is through the notion of reflexivity as the twist by means that which generated a system becomes part of the system it generates. This reflexive appearance of the generating movement within the generated system, in the guise of what Hegel called the “oppositional determination,” as a rule takes the form of the opposite- within the material sphere. Spirit appears in the guise of the most inert moment (crane, formless black stone); in the later stage of a revolutionary process when Revolution starts to devour its own children, the political agent which effectively set in motion the process is renegaded into the role of its main obstacle, of the waverers or outright traitors who are not ready to follow the revolutionary logic to its conclusion. Along the same lines, is it not that, once the socio-symbolic order is fully established, the very dimension which introduced the “transcendent” attitude that defines a human being, namely SEXUALITY, the uniquely human “undead” sexual passion, appears as its very opposite, as the main OBSTACLE to the elevation of a human being to the pure spirituality, as that which ties him/her down to the inertia of bodily existence? For this reason, the end of sexuality in the much celebrated “posthuman” self-cloning entity expected to emerge soon, far from opening up the way to pure spirituality, will simultaneously signal the end of what is traditionally designated as the uniquely human spiritual transcendence. All the celebrating of the new “enhanced” possibilities of sexual life that Virtual Reality offers cannot conceal the fact that, once cloning supplements sexual difference, the game is over. [15] 


We all know of Alan Turing’s famous “imitation game” which should serve as the test if a machine can think: we communicate with two computer interfaces, asking them any imaginable question; behind one of the interfaces, there is a human person typing the answers, while behind the other, it is a machine. If, based on the answers we get, we cannot tell the intelligent machine from the intelligent human, then, according to Turing, our failure proves that machines can think. What is a little bit less known is that in its first formulation, the issue was not to distinguish human from the machine, but man from woman, why this strange displacement from sexual difference to the difference between human and machine? Was this due to Turing’s simple eccentricity (recall his well-known troubles because of his homosexuality)? According to some interpreters, the point is to oppose the two experiments: a successful imitation of a woman’s responses by a man (or vice versa) would not prove anything, because the gender identity does not depend on the sequences of symbols, while a successful imitation of man by a machine would prove that this machine thinks, because “thinking” ultimately is the proper way of sequencing symbols… What if, however, the solution to this enigma is much more simple and radical? What if sexual difference is not simply a biological fact, but the Real of an antagonism that defines humanity, so that once sexual difference is abolished, a human being effectively becomes indistinguishable from a machine. 


The further thing one should emphasize here is Turing’s blindness to the distinction between doing and saying: as many an interpreter has noticed, Turing simply had no sense for the properly SYMBOLIC domain of communication in sexuality, power politics, etc., in which language is used as a rhetorical device, with its referential meaning clearly subordinated to its performative dimension (of seduction, coercion, etc.). For Turing, there were ultimately only purely intellectual problems to be solved - in this sense, he was the ultimate “normal psychotic,” blinded for the sexual difference. The crucial intervention of the Turing test appears the moment we accept its basic dispositif, i.e. the loss of a stable embodiment, the disjunction between actually enacted and represented bodies: an irreducible gap is introduced between the “real” flesh-and-blood body behind the screen and its representation in the symbols that flicker on the computer screen. Such a disjunction is co-substantial with “humanity” itself: the moment a living being starts to speak, the medium of its speech (say, voice) is minimally disembodied, in the sense that it seems to originate not in the material reality of the body that we see, but in some invisible “inferiority” - a spoken word is always minimally the voice of a ventriloquist, a spectral dimension always reverberates in it. In short, one should claim that “humanity” as such ALWAYS-ALREADY WAS “posthuman” - therein resides the gist of Lacan’s thesis that the symbolic order is a parasitical machine which intrudes into and supplements a human being as its artificial prothesis. 


Of course, the standard feminist question to ask here is: is this erasure of the bodily attachment gender neutral, or is it secretly gendered, so that sexual difference does not concern only the actual enacted body behind the screen, but also the different relationship between the levels of representation and enactment? Is the masculine subject in its very notion disembodied, while the feminine subject maintains the umbilical cord to its embodiment? In “The Curves of the Needle,” a short essay on gramophone from 1928. [16] Adorno notes the fundamental paradox of recording: the more the machine makes its presence known (through obtrusive noises, its clumsiness and interruptions), the stronger the experience of the actual presence of the singer - or, to put it the other way round, the more perfect the recording, the more faithfully the machine reproduces a human voice, the more humanity is removed, the stronger the effect that we are dealing with something “inauthentic”. [17] This perception is to be linked to Adorno’s famous “antifeminist” remark according to which a woman’s voice cannot be properly recorded, since it demands the presence of her body, in contrast to a man’s voice which can exert its full power as disembodied - do we not encounter here a clear case of the ideological notion of sexual difference in which man is a disembodied Spirit-Subject, while woman remains anchored in her body? However, these statements are to be read against the background of Adorno’s notion of feminine hysteria as the protest of subjectivity against reification: the hysterical subject is essentially in-between, no longer fully identified to her body, not yet ready to assume the position of the disembodied speaker (or, with regard to mechanical reproduction: no longer the direct presence of the “living voice,” not yet its perfect mechanical reproduction). Subjectivity is not the immediate living self-presence we attain when we shed away the distorting mechanical reproduction; it is rather that remainder of “authenticity” whose traces we can discern in an imperfect mechanical reproduction. In short, the subject is something that “will have been” in its imperfect representation. Adorno’s thesis that a woman’s voice cannot be properly recorded, since it demands the presence of her body, thus effectively asserts feminine hysteria (and not the disembodied male voice) as the original dimension of subjectivity: in woman’s voice, the painful process of disembodiment continues to reverberate, its traces are not yet obliterated. In Kierkegaard’s terms, sexual difference is the difference between “being” and “becoming”: man and woman are both disembodied; however, while a man directly assumes disembodiment as an achieved state, feminine subjectivity stands for the disembodiment “in becoming.” [18] 
 


Notes:


[1]. For the notion of bio-politics, see Giorgio Agamben, Homo sacer, Stanford; Stanford University Press 1998; for the notion of post-politics, see Jacques Rancière, Disagreement, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press 1998.


[2]. See Agamben, op.cit.


[3]. Sam Harris, The End of Faith, New York: Norton 2005, p. 199.


[4]. Harris, op.cit., p. 192-193.


[5]. Op.cit., p. 197.


[6]. Available online at http://www.masturbate-a-thon. com.


[7]. See Alain Badiou, Logiques des mondes, Paris: Editions du Seuil 2006.


[8]. See Badiou, op.cit.


[9]. For the concept of the Master-Signifier, see Jacques Lacan, The Other Side of Psychoanalysis, New York: Norton 2006.


[10]. Badiou, op.cit., p. 443.


[11]. See, exemplarily, Michel Houellebecq, The Possibility of an Island, New York: Knopf 2006.


[12]. Nicholas Sabloff, “Of Filth and Frozen Dinners,” The Common Review, Winter 2007, p. 50.


[13]. Sabloff, op.cit., p. 51.


[14]. Michel Houellebecq, Atomised, London: Heinemann 2000.


[15]. And, incidentally, with all the focus on the new experiences of pleasure that lay ahead with the development of Virtual Reality, direct neuronal implants, etc., what about new “enhanced” possibilities of TORTURE? Do biogenetics and Virtual Reality combined not open up new and unheard-of horizons of extending our ability to endure pain (through widening our sensory capacity to sustain pain, through inventing new forms of inflicting it) - perhaps, the ultimate Sadean image on an “undead” victim of the torture who can sustain endless pain without having at his/her disposal the escape into death, also waits to become reality? Perhaps, in a decade or two, our most horrifying cases of torture (say, what they did to the Chief-of-Staff of the Dominican Army after the failed coup in which the dictator Trujillo was killed - sewing his eyes together so that he wasn’t able to see his torturers, and then for four months slowly cutting off parts of his body in most painful ways, like using clumsy scissors to detach his genitals) will appear as naive children’s games.


[16]. Translated by Tom Levine in October 55, Winter 1990, p. 48-55.


[17] The same holds for today’s prospec of Virtual Reality: the more perfect the digital reproduction, the more “artificial” its effect, in the same way an imperfect black and white photograph is experienced as more “realist” than a color one, although reality is in colors.


[18] Does Lacan’s reading of woe s war sol lich werden not involve the temporality of the failed encounter, of not-yet and no-longer, of It-itself and For-itself? The subject is the vanishing mediator between “where it—what will become a subject—was” (in the state of in-itself, not yet fully realized), and the full symbolic realization in which the subject is already stigmatized into a signifier. Lacan refers here to the Freudian dream of the father who didn’t know he was dead (and for that reason remained alive): the subject is also only alive insofar as it doesn’t know (that it is dead)—the moment it knows “it”, assuming symbolic knowledge, it dies (in the signifier that represents it, the subject).