In Ishiguro's "The Buried Giant," collective memory that
has been suppressed, suddenly comes back full bloom. All memory of
victimization, is suddenly remembered by all. Ishiguro presents it as, in one
sense, quite necessary, but also as fully regrettable as it gives
incontrovertible righteous fodder for the war-intending.
With what's coming out of Hollywood and Washington now, his novel
really resonates. For while it seems only good that we are now becoming
knowledgeable of the sheer number of predators in both places, and that victims
who had felt kowtowed and shamed for years are now feeling some sense of
resolve and self-pride again, it is also true that both of these places are
seeming more the cesspools of the corrupt of rightwing populist lore.
It is possible that as we see these many reveals and long-delayed
takedowns occur and realize, as it makes the previous tendency of both of these
high-density, democrat-voting locals to attack "everyday Americans"
as the seat of everything that is foul in the world an actual inversion of
truth, that it is the rightwing rather than feminism that is best taking
advantage of it, we may find ourselves regretting that we are now duty-bound
(absolute fidelity with the victimized) to follow this to the end.
Lloyd deMause once talked about social institutions as delegate
groups that "act out ambivalent feelings common to all
members of the larger group but which the rest of the group wish to deny."
He referred to "the
Church as a group-fantasy of dependency, the Army as a group-fantasy of birth,
the Government as a group-fantasy of nurturance, Capitalism as a group-fantasy
of control, Revolution as a group-fantasy of counterdependency, the Class
System as a group-fantasy of obeisance, The School as a group-fantasy of
humiliation." DeMause thus provides liberals with a means of understanding
why these locations of such absolute resolved faith in voting Democratic, in
supporting governments that are progressive and improve the lot of wo/mankind,
can also be places where predatory behaviours run rampant. Powerful people
working there are cued by the public at large to act out specific group fantasy
needs -- to make unknowns suddenly famous, but also the horrible inverse: to
act out punishments upon them for their egoistic desire to have it all; to live
out the American dream.
Without deMause's help, where will be left but to agree that these
places that were such leaders in keeping democracy afloat have been revealed to
be, in fact, the very cesspools the rightwing have always declared them to be
and are in deep need of supervision and reform... an aroused movement lead by
those currently becoming the recognized holders of virtue, those loyal to
"the forgotten American man and woman," namely, nativists,
nationalists, whether right or left.
Richard Brody shared a link.Moderator · February 16 at 9:31pm So, Black Panther: it's a pleasure to watch and to think about. This should come as no surprise to anyone who has seen Creed, in which Ryan Coogler turns the Rocky franchise into a powerful, personal, and critical experience. Black Panther is the rare superhero film in which the worldbuilding is very satisfying—coherent and dramatic in itself, like a bit of history rather than a jerry-rigged contraption. And the action itself has an intellectual and political resonance that's rare for any kind of movie. Like many action movies of any sort, there's plenty of exposition, and some of the early parts seem like pretexts for high-speed tumult (though it's realized cleverly); but when the drama kicks into high gear, it's shudderingly intense—and that very intensity packs an idea of its own. https://www.newyorker.com/…/the-passionate-politics-of-blac…The Passionate Politics of "Black Panther" Many films …