We can’t help but digest the horrific martial potential of a nuclear war against, for the imminent now, Jung Un’s North Korea. There’s an unnerving inference, whenever I read a NYT’s article—about U.S. defense, NK’s arm’s program, Trump’s reassuring words—that post-WWII America had when they discovered Soviet Union now have nuclear capabilities. It makes me think about T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, published post-WWI in shade of all the evil that man is capable of, whether ideology had firm infrastructure, a thought that the U.S. modernist sought to pick at. Eliot’s famous line, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust”, a line I’ve thought of during Kittler’s line, “The dream of a real visible or audible world arising from words has come to end.” (p.14)
He goes on to argue that the monopoly over human archives has ended since the mechanical invention of cinema, phonography, and typewriter, for they have parsed out the optical, acoustic, and written data flow that originated in the poetics of pre- & post- printing press. He makes special consideration for the typewriter; saying since it’s invention and popularity, the author’s intrinsic identity is anonymously disguised behind the uniformly calligraphic perfection, thus that “strangely unavoidable traces” (p.8) of a writer, is gone. Regarding effects of phonograph and cinema, the spirituality, or primal sensuality (as I’ll define later), which was manifested from hearer/audience’s active engagement, that’s rewarded as emotional memory thru “hallucination”(p.10) or reverie, is gone as well, from the “distracted person” (Benjamin, p.1069), at least when s/he’s not disinterested in the music or film.
But going back to Eliot’s ephemeral line, that reminds the inferring reader, that this world, cynically sourced by the Nietzschian ideology’s of man, is impermanent, and certainly vulnerable to a hydrogen bomb, prompts me to challenge the notion of that “the entertainment industry with it’s new sensuality” (p.14), and mechanical ability to capture the world, that literature writes of, is necessary. I’d argue, on the contrary to this notion, it compromises primal sensualities, or simple sensualities (that is superior over complex sensualities) subsequently compromises at-present emotional memory, which is more important than prudent memory, that mechanization promotes among other things, because the world, as war has proven, is impermanent. I’ll begin with two super brief historical antedotes that highlights the moral risk of complex sensualities, brought by exotic stimuli.
Mid-17TH century, prior to the Dutch arriving tip of what’s considered Battery Park, the Lenape Indians who seasonally settled in the woodlands of the island, unaware of any European sensualities like distilled alcohol, vegetation, and fabrics; the Lenapes were content with the untouched flora and faun, and because they would migrate to the warmer south during winter, they never needed foreign clothes or blankets. So when the foreign Dutch introduction of such exotic materials, providing a vast array of unnecessary options, overtime became a livelihood crutch per se, thus fulfilling. in a psychological sense, a greater way to fulfill Maslow’s bottom hierarchy of needs, the resulting superfluous indulgences, especially alcohol, caused the southern Manhattan demise of the tribe. In confluence with the U.S. economic boom post-WWII many hundreds year later, where consumer consumption—driven by commercial ads on TV, billboard, radio, about appliances, cars, and clothes—was at it’s highest, psychologically, the private dwellings of white America had a gaping hole the size of a meteor, that an array of materials could only fill. Consumption, positively reinforced by the country, was, and still is, therefore the interminate culture.
It is this manufactured narcissism, that historically, on a mass scale, this American dream had numbed the primal sensual self, that, again, is more important during a nuclear age, than human mechanical archiving. The solution is not to become a luddite, because technological advancements, in general, helps further distance society from the prehistoric wilderness. And I’m not proposing any transcendentalist retirement from urban America either. But to first be aware such exotic and mechanized stimuli as an inevitable sensual crutch, and two, to engage in sensual primal simplicity, because of three reasons: (1) leisurely, it’s the greatest way to interact with yourself and others casually or intimately, (2) morally, it’s the greatest way to keep a society from developing crutches, as witness from the Lenapes, and (3) psychologically, it possibly ends this anxious rat race of becoming “independently successful”, through greater emphasis on community, through the primal sensuality that bornes empathy, as the Lenapes had prior to trading with the Dutch. Knowing that such, if our nuclear-era consumer culture could, to put it simply, do more with less, we can return to what matters more than the mechanization of the human footprint, as Shelly’s Ozymandias writes, “The lone and level sands stretch far away.”