Filed under: Science | Tags: coffee marxist, Freud, Freudian criticism, Marxism, Marxist analysis, Marxist evaluation of Freud, political unconscious, psychoanalysis, psychoanalytic criticism, psychology, Science
For more than a century and a half since the founding of the psychoanalytic criticism by Sigmund Freud, the school has found a tremendous audience in the field of literature and politics in general. Psychoanalytic or “Freudian” critical practice is essentially the criticism of something, in two ready-made examples, a person or a literary text, through the lens of contemporary psychology in order to explain the sexuality and behavior of that same person or abstract character.
Sadly, despite Marxism’s best efforts, the return of the concept of the political unconscious to go along with Freud’s now-hugely-famous “unconscious mind” concept has not taken hold to the mainstream. It is much easier to find the political unconscious of any given text then might be imagined, but for some reason critics have gone running into one German scholar’s arms and not the other. Indeed, readings of a work that speaks of the hermeneutics of suspicion and do not end up referring to homoerotic desire or an Oedipus complex these days are few and far in between.
While it is justified to talk of Moby Dick, the Picture of Dorian Gray and Kidnapped in terms of the sexual tension between male characters, almost no attempt is made to analyze the political modes, class interests and production that might influence such characterizations. After all, do these characters emerge from nothing but the individual psychology of the author? For example, in the above-mentioned novels, are the characters’ repressed homosexual desires a mere endorsement of hedonistic values as a celebration of beauty, or an overt expression of sexuality as an outgrowth of decadence which challenges bourgeois society and thus is seen as desirable? Is it Romantic-era lushness taken to an extreme in order to compensate for the perceived royalist “drabness” of industrial life, or a manifestation of the appeal to sensation against the moralist society at large? A Freudian would doubtlessly say the latter in both cases, simply because it lures him away from politics except that of the postmodern. However there is an important distinction between those two types of homosexuality: one is progressive in the neo-liberal sense and one is essentially royalist.
The famous Marxist critic Fredric Jameson essentially criticized the psychoanalytic form as being too focused on the individual experience, and thus unable to reach a level of cultural and social analysis. For a Marxist, the immediate leap is made to connect this with neo-liberal policies, which seek to liquidate class struggle and eliminate the survival of anything contrary to the postmodern existential and individual experience.
Jameson is right in saying that the master dogma of Freudian criticism depends on an isolated, autonomized sexuality that emerges only within the contexts of capitalism. Consequently, because Freud’s own branch of thought can only reach bloom within capitalism, it is hardly in a place to critique it-it lives inside the house, and cannot go outside and have a look at it the way Marxism can. Nevertheless, psychoanalysis does retain a credible force of criticism which is merely expanded by Marxism, which says that human consciousness is not master within its own house.
Mental illness diagnoses in general are often a response to behavior that either conflicts with, or concentrates, ideas and practices prevailing under the imperialist system. A “murderer” or a “serial killer” is one who kills people and does not happen to possess a badge or gun, or a plane with bombs in it. What psychologists call depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder is particularly interesting from this approach. The manifestations of mental illnesses are social products even if there is a chemical basis for them.
The radical individualism and violence in America may lead people diagnosed as mentally ill to shoot up a school or worry about CIA surveillance, while in a socialist society their behavior would manifest itself differently. The obsessive-compulsive man, for example, is frequently distressed with what he perceives to be uncleanliness or imperfection, defined usually in bourgeois terms of class thinking. See the movie “American Psycho” for an example. Another interesting phenomenon is the popular idea of the “mad genius,” or the concept that mental illness can coincide with or produce genius. Always it is shown as also bringing its downfall, though little is done to analyze whether or not this is true. Instead, one is invited to gaze in awe of the genius and to strive to be one of these “greats” who “burn out, rather than fade away,” which does little but reinforce individualism and the rights of capital.
Unfortunately, Freudian criticism does not ponder how every single citizen in an imperialist country, male or female, white or black, worker or celebrity happens to be prone to “mental illness and depression.” To do so would undermine the whole individualist approach to Freudian psychology and expose (do not faint!) real social problems.
Filed under: Literary Criticism | Tags: coffee marxist, Marxist literary theory, reading list, reading recommendations
Marxist Perspectives on South Korea in the Global Economy – Martin Hart-Landsberg
On Juche In Our Revolution – Kim Il-Sung
Maoist Economics and the Revolutionary Road to Communism – Shanghai textbook
The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde – Collins edition
Postmodernism or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism – Fredric Jameson
The Illusions of Postmodernism – Terry Eagleton
Rural North Korea Under Communism – Mun Woong Lee
Filed under: Literary Criticism | Tags: Canterbury Marxism, Canterbury Tales, Chaucer, coffee marxist, Marxism, Marxist Literary criticism, Marxist reading
Geoffrey Chaucer, more than any other medieval author, showcases the new ideological superstructure that was to accompany the radical shift of the economic base during the transition from feudalism to mercantile and, eventually, industrial capitalism in Europe. To put it simply, the purpose of his work was to ready the historical period for the dominating role of the new bourgeoisie rising to power from the ashes of feudalism. The social dilemmas haunting English culture at the time, such as the preoccupation with class, race, property, finances and marriage are dealt with almost without exception in the Canterbury Tales, each one given the treatment of examination through the bourgeois lens.
To exhibit such unique ideological turns, Chaucer must have lived in quite tumultuous times, which indeed he did. “They were years of social and political unrest. [....] Wyclif and his followers were challenging the institutions and beliefs of Christendom; and the whole idea of the feudal hierarchy was under pressure from the peasant’s demands for rights, the demographic collapse following the Black Death, and the continuing rise in the importance of money rather than land or rank in the social machinery” (1). In short, the economic base of society was greatly disrupted to the point of bourgeois revolution. In some ways, this collapse would prove fortunate for Chaucer’s art. Artists in the feudal era often faced a unique obstacle to their works in that the production of all art required a wealthy backer, almost always the royalty or the clergy, to support the efforts of the sculptor, painter, musician, et al. The role of the artist only began to take on a more uninhibited form when the concept of the bourgeoisie began to emerge from mercantile capitalism. In this way we can see Chaucer’s work as relatively progressive petty-bourgeois relativist literature before such terms even existed.
Within the Prologue to the tales, the pilgrims and their roles in medieval society at first seem like a characterization of all the classes and divisions of labor, a simple mélange of social and political groups. This is statement is essentially true-Chaucer was aware of the class structure of the society that willed him into being and is making a commentary about the flaws in that system and what he would like to see replace it. Chaucer’s work frequently shows characters who are members of or are representative of certain social classes that overstep boundaries and then are not scolded by the text to fulfill their allotted role in society. In addition, while he begins the Prologue as a tyrannical and authoritarian “voice of the author” who seeks to cease any further discussion of ambiguity, Chaucer seems to intentionally avoid using any central moral framework for the story. Christianity is frequently presented, but one moral code alone is never chosen as supreme, and in fact the entire work seems hostile to such a concept. There is a hidden motive behind this particular portrayal.
Despite his fine upper-class language and romance writing, Chaucer displays a fine set of what we as modern readers might vulgarly term “neo-liberal values.” His tales are journeys into the consciousness of the individual that at first seem to transcend their roles in society, but unintentionally expose how their individual superstructures are dependant upon dominant forms of production (such as the examples of the noble knight and the vulgar miller, whose personalities are determined by their social class). This truth is lost on Chaucer however, since the very notion of class transcendence in the first place is revolutionary for the Middle Ages. Chaucer is therefore “[...] ironically substituting for the traditional moral view of social structure a vision of a world where morality becomes as specialized to the individual as his work-life” (2). Chaucer is aware of his and humanity’s status as individuals defined by humanistic subjectivity, and thus demands his own bourgeoisie to earn their soon-to-be-had leadership by falling in line with such a philosophy. Even more concealed is the idea that Chaucer has no control over his work, that he really is a simple “narrator” standing outside his tales as he is in the Prologue. The fact that the author loses control of his own writing once published is a structural fact of capitalism and feudalism alike.
Each pilgrim of the Tales carries forth Chaucer’s vision of neo-liberal individual rights and a bourgeois-ruled society. Witness for example the Knight’s Tale, an introduction of a wonderful chivalric knight (literally) stained with the blood of imperialism. In it, two knights use the principles of chivalry and courtly love to fight to the death over a woman and are manipulated by the “gods” into foolishly killing each other. Chaucer is mocking “chivalric” imperialist principles here-”the Knight’s Tale [...] can support both an ironic and a positive evaluation of the Knight’s moral character, seeing him both as an ideal and as anachronism” (3). It becomes clear through his prologue that he is a Crusader, one magically able to attend every Crusade. He is described chiefly in moral attributes rather than appearance, highlighting the gaping difference between the ideal and the blood reality.
In a similar vein, the prologue of the squire has an air of mocking about the young man. He is a twenty-year-old man that is highly lustful yet covered in finery, and has pretensions of being an artist and painter even as he is the son of an imperialist soldier. It is nothing less than the refutation of “an authoritative and malicious mystification by those who rule in order to control the ruled” (4). These two stories are clearly criticisms of the entire institution of knighthood and not just jabs taken at a particular icon. The knight is a historically obsolete character, a feudalist ideal whose values are ridden asunder by his liberal squire.
It is significant that the Tales starts with the knight, who is then interrupted by the various assembled peasants and drunks. The Knight’s Tale is at the head of the Canterbury Tales pilgrims-the one with the highest social standing. The interruption of the miller shows a very different sort of hierarchy: characters are refusing to stay in their place. There are contradictions between adjacent stories such as the miller’s, the knight’s and the reeve’s. There is a complete disregard of nobility going on here. The ordered and the vulgar sit side-by-side in Chaucer’s world-he has shown the finery of culture and also spun it upside-down to reveal its underside, the crumbling of feudal ideas in the 14th century.
This sort of motif is in line with the genre of the estates satire. “Estate satires, which aim to give an analysis of society in terms of hierarchy, social function and morality, were widespread throughout Western Europe. They work by enumerating the various ‘estates,’ the classes or professions of society, with the object of showing how far each falls short of the ideal to which it should conform” (1). Chaucer has gathered under one roof many different strata: those who fight, those who rule, those who pray and those who work. Each pilgrim is named by his profession or standing-rarely is any name given to them. They come as individuals, the author and audience of what they are expected to do.
The miller, much like the knight, is an implicit refutation of feudalist morals even as he is a refusal of the refined world, a self-imposed division which not only fails, but refuses, to achieve solution. The transition between the two shows the ideological contradiction at the beating heart of the Canterbury Tales-the double dialectic at work in the text. “‘Petty-bourgeois ideology’ exists as a strikingly pure and contradictory unit of elements drawn from the ideological realms of both dominant and dominated classes in the social formation,” (6) as typified by the knight and the miller, respectively. But the miller is also an important symbol of a deeper fissure in Chaucer’s new mercantile society-the transition of the main productive forces to urban areas from rural ones.
The pilgrims themselves may be interpreted as mostly rural folk, some of which have never been out of their small peasant towns, on a journey to a city setting. This is not a meeting free of clashes-the miller’s personal flaws and sheer vulgarity come from his class position as a product of predatory mercantile capitalism, which is uprooting the rural world. He is the protest against the traditionalist values of the political and cultural by means of satire.
Chaucer’s ideological paradox between the old feudal writer as a servant of the crown and the new role of production as the mouthpiece of the rising petty-bourgeoisie showcases, more than anything else, a fight-to-the-death between hierarchal vision and radical subjectivity. Unfortunately for Chaucer, he sees this contradiction within his society not as the rise of one class over another but as the fight between abstract and reactionary concepts of “personality” over “bureaucracy.” His humor contains realism only inasmuch as it contains elements of the real-laughter for him contains social use-value in the form of his ideas of personality. Thus the parody of the miller and his respective tale becomes an important weapon against the ideas he strives to tear down.
Chaucer’s treatment of religion through the symbolism of religious figures continues his methodology thus far by ushering in that most dreaded of all academic philosophies, relativism, in the tales told by the friar, the summoner, the monk and other figures of the prevailing religious order. Chaucer calls attention to the failure of human institutions to impose any final authority and insists that such a task must be left to the Almighty. Just as the Prologue reveals no overarching purpose to the tales, so does he refuse to give it a dictating overarching morality.
In the Monk’s Tale for example, a monk simply refuses to stay within his cloister, and enjoys good living at the expense of the townspeople, violating his vow of poverty and obedience. He refuses the doctrines of St. Benedict and St. Augustine, to whom he pledged his fealty. “Chaucer avoids any simple conformity to the stereotype, and what conformity there is takes a highly individualistic bent” (1). Indeed, the monk favors money over god, is lustful towards barmaids, wears opulent clothes and is generally rebellious. He freely commits what the Church terms “sin,” and yet Chaucer seems to fittingly have little bad to say about him.
In fact, Chaucer seems to admire the monk’s personal strength and his willingness to challenge established orders, even the one he is representing. He claims he is “fair for the maistrye, an outridere…a manly man, to been an abbot worthy.” Chaucer genuinely likes the monk and is fond of what he symbolizes within the story-unlike the other religious figures presented, such as the friar and the summoner, who wear a virtuous face and merely hide their corruption, the monk’s honesty and undying control over his own life has rendered it a moot practice to conceal his fleshy desires.
Chaucer’s mission in presenting the reader with characters such as the monk is a re-alignment of class society. Chaucer demands his bourgeoisie be a class with cultural knowledge that is worthy to assume their roles. The spiritual predominance in aristocratic rule is therefore liquidated in order to show that the court and clergy will fail in their tasks to assimilate the masses below them, whose ideologies are at the present time more liberal then theirs, unless they learn to relax the religious doctrines of the old order. Chaucer thereby liberalizes the absolute moral values of the Catholic Church out of existence for his (and the bourgeoisie’s) purposes. Chaucer never goes all the way with his individualism, however, since he is careful within the Canterbury Tales to confine it only as a debased egoism and never allow it to drift into nihilism.
To avoid such an unthinkable path for the time, he makes sure to keep his characters closely linked with their positions of work within society, even as they find ways to drift beyond them. “The pilgrims become individuals who have been assigned these functions, men and women enacting externally imposed roles toward which each has his or her own kind of relationship” (5). The ideological interplay thus generated within creates a gripping dialectic of interests as social groups come together to achieve power over one another, within the Tales themselves as well as Chaucer’s own mind. Often a power interest has been pre-generated by the pilgrim’s investment in an institution, such as the aforementioned examples of the knight and the reeve. The particulars of behavior are thus linked with their institutional sponsors to produce a conflict of unique superstructures.
The Tales is thus one of the earliest examples of literary organicist values, which integrate class ideology forcibly as a train-wreck into a unitary humanist “worldview.” As a result we are left with competing classes and modes of storytelling-fabliaux, poem, prose, romance and Gothic alike-all meshed together. The very structure of the story makes its thesis clear, as all the stories work together as organs to become a greater whole, more than the sum of their parts. This sort of metaphysics could be the basis for nothing else than liberal capitalism.
Feudal ideology in 14th century England among the aristocratic classes faced significant fractures. Chaucer therefore offers an idealist bourgeois critique of social relations while affirming the virtues of capital. Realism, as Chaucer envisions it, involves the unraveling of pretensions, the egalitarian distribution of personality and individuality, the holding of irreconcilable rules in precarious balance. The general ideology of the text is of course, liberal reformism. The aristocrats are losing their economic supremacy. The traditional intellectual of Chaucer thus unites, as they have done many times historically, with the new dominant bourgeois classes. This line of thought would give rise later to the Romantic humanist tradition of writers such as Coleridge and Lord Byron.
While it is not true that subjectivity only comes forth as a result of certain systems, since it has always been a part of history, to be institutionalized to the extent it has by bourgeois culture authors like Chaucer are needed to saturate the market and thus the culture. This sense of literary production and the works of great authors played an important role in the development of the sense of the “British nation” and the resulting imperialist identity politics. Thus it is a habit of history to viciously assimilate the author and his works as pawns of the formation of a hegemonic bourgeois empire.
The Cook’s Tale is the easiest and most readily available encapsulated example of the rot and seedy underbelly of the London people’s society that Chaucer hopes to expose. The cook’s story is not necessarily solicited, but he forcefully interjects his tale as a response to the reeve. The cook is angered by the reeve’s malevolent words, and decides to take matters into his own hands. This is a rather revolutionary metaphor on the part of Chaucer-the working class man of the group is publically objecting the actions of a feudal serf lord, an exploitive landowner who is the old servant of the crown. The cook discusses working for land-owning characters in his fabliaux, which seems to revel in prostitution, gambling and other lower class vices. This portrays the opinions of different classes, with one class content with the status quo and another seeking to condemn its unfairness.
In the Man of Law’s Tale, there is a contrast between the struggling philosophy student and the greedy lawyer. The lawyer admits that his knowledge has no aim except making him money. The tale’s “repeated motifs of the sufferings of the high-ranking suggest tragedie in its non-dramatic Chaucerian form” (1). A large part of the tale is devoted to legal explanation of the proceedings as well as Biblical verses-the story itself seems to be about divine intervention when Custance is repeatedly stricken with suffering and yet remains wholly Christian. The tale is as much a caricature as it is a story encouraging Christian principles, though this is kept at bay by Chaucer’s inclusion of reminders that the story is being dictated by a corrupt lawyer.
Chaucer’s societal analysis continues throughout each of the tales-the Friar’s Tale, which shallowly appears at first to be a moralist Platonic “warning fable,” is actually an appeal to view the greed of officials as logically resolvable. The Shipman’s Tale shows that like all capitalists, thievery, piracy and murder are the shipman’s chief methods of capital gain, and shows the crumbling of the domestic as a sheer ironic exercise inevitable given the oppressive social relations between people. One might mistake Chaucer’s criticism and sarcastic condemnation of the excesses of British culture as genuine attempts to destroy, rather than alter, the system producing corrupt characters like the summoner, the friar and the prioress. While the Shipman’s Tale may in fact be a criticism of the values of mercantile capitalism, it is also more of a criticism of the limits of such commercialism instead of a condemnation of the system as whole. Readers often fail to see the tree for the forest.
Likewise, the famous Wife of Bath’s Tale is a plea for equality on behalf of women, with a female character giving a reaction to the subjugated and “well-behaved” woman in the man of law’s story. She says that she has been married five times and, instead of discussing the honesty and virtue of matrimony and chastity, she turns her tale into a shocking justification of multiple marriages and multiple sexual partners. This cannot be seen as anything but a criticism of women’s role in marriage under the feudalist system, where they were treated much like property instead of reciprocal partners and equals to the men.
The progressive elements of Chaucer are frequently used (or rather exploited) by his western liberal critics, who use such ideas of equal rights and of cutting oneself off from the past to become a “modern person” as a tool to make his works another simple catalogue of western liberal anxieties. This is partially true, since the complexities of Chaucer’s historical context challenged the clergy, class society and medieval imperialist organizations of Catholic feudalism in general. However, it is exceptional to note that the Canterbury Tales also serves as a preview of the characteristics of the emerging “modern” bourgeois nation-state and gives insight to Chaucer’s unique status in elevating it through his fiction.
Works cited:
1) Cooper, Helen. Oxford Guides to Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989.
2) Mann, Jill. Chaucer and Medieval Estates Satire: The Literature of Social Classes and the General Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. CUP Archive, 1973.
3) J. Carruthers, Mary. “Review: [untitled].” Modern Philology 89(1992): 390-394.
4) Ann Knapp, Peggy. Chaucer and the Social Contest. Routledge, 1990.
5) Patterson, Lee. Chaucer and the Subject of History. University of Wisconsin Press, 1991.¬¬
6) Eagleton, Terry. Criticism and Ideology. 2006. Verso, 1976.