Across Wales in a Straight Line

Still thinking about Jeremy Deller’s new documentary, “Everybody in the Place”, which I wrote about yesterday.

I keep coming back to a moment when Deller mentions the paranoia associated with the countryside today. He connects the impositions brought against rave culture to the Inclosure Acts of the 19th century and the feeling which remains today that you can’t walk about in nature without feeling like you’re doing something wrong.

This reminded me of a YouTube series I’ve been watching unfold over the last couple weeks in which a man attempts to walk across Wales in a perfectly straight line.

It’s funny and ridiculous in equal measure but I’m constantly struck by his perpetual terror and paranoia. It is constant — so much so that the endurance factor of his adventure becomes secondary to the stress of him feeling like he’s doing something he shouldn’t. Interestingly, the camouflage offered by his standard-issue British Army gear is as practical as it is authoritative. If you’re afraid of breaking the law, make like you’re above it.

If you want an idea of how even the UK’s wide-open areas are enclosed within the mind, look no further than this.

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Everybody in the Place: On Jeremy Deller and Rave Rhizomaticisms

He’s lost control of the nightclub. There’s been a coup.

There’s been a lot of talk online about Jeremy Deller’s new Acid House documentary, aired on the BBC last week. I finally got round to watching it after seeing David Stubbs‘ glowing praise on Twitter — high praise too from a legendary music writer whose recent Mars By 1980 is an excellent history of electronic music as a whole.

I’m left feeling giddy after watching it. It sent me on this weird trip down memory lane, thinking about all the chance cultural encounters had when I was growing up, their age and younger. If Jeremy Deller had shown up in my classroom to talk about rave culture in this way, it would have been like throwing gasoline on these teenage temperaments. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those kids pop up on the forefront of something a few years down the line. It makes a strong case for this sort of arts education being introduced into mainstream curricula — although I won’t hold my breath for state education to get state-critical. That’s the sort of thing you only get — and even then, only if you’re lucky — once you get to art school.


“Everybody in the Place: an Incomplete History of Britain 1984-1992” is as brilliant as everyone is saying it is but there’s an obvious change here in how Deller is presenting his particular brand of cultural history. I’ve been to Deller’s exhibitions and seen his other films. This isn’t like those. This isn’t just an hour of expertly curated archival material made with the art world in mind. Here, the sort of psychedelic rave documentary (no less brilliant) pioneered by the likes of Mark Leckey, is being given a much-needed deconstruction.

Leckey’s Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore remains the blueprint for so many films about underground British culture. It is a time capsule that nonetheless contains within it a certain timelessness, due to the way in which the “subjectivist fuzz” of a particular time and place gets dissolved in its own euphoria. It’s the sort of approach to cultural work that we can still see echoes of today in, for example, Paul Wright’s recent film Arcadia.

Here, however, Deller’s documentary is presented through a very different structure. We begin — and remain throughout — in a typical London classroom. (And the London centricity is important here.) Deller is, essentially, giving a lecture to teenagers who look to me like GCSE students — 15-16 years old — about the rise and politics of Acid House and there is a subtly about the presentation here that I found really affecting.


I can’t claim that this “typical” classroom is anything like mine was. London, in general, is so much more radically diverse than the rest of the country. I went to a school just outside of Hull where I could count the non-white students in my year group on one hand. Casual racism and the associated “banter” were commonplace. The old adage that kids always pick up on difference was writ large then. It felt like if you were into or wanted to find diverse cultural experiences, the last place you’d look would be in the people around you.

Coming of age during the retromania of mid-00s Northern indie bands, my “Northern Soul” moment was disarticulated from any local club scene — despite every kid having a shoulder bag swearing allegiance to a scene that no longer existed for us. I’ve never really enjoyed the tracks that epitomise that subculture– the standards of the scene have always represented a sort of exoticised aesthetic conversatism to me: we like this because it’s so different but we only like this very particular kind of different — but I do understand the delirious confluence of sentiments found in dancing to Motown on amphetamines down the local conservative club.

I remember seeing an advert on the TV for the 2004 compilation Superbad when I was 14 and being haunted by the earworm of WAR’s “Low Rider” for weeks, as a track that is explicitly grounded in another culture, but which also strangely made sense jaunting around country roads at the mouth of the Humber estuary as you escape the city and hit the ocean wall.

“Take a little trip, and see” is a message to carry with you anywhere — no matter what kind of trip you’re after. I asked for that compilation for Christmas that year, much to the bemusement of my parents, and it blew my prog-dominated world wide open.

That was a gateway into a whole new way of existing for me. It was a gateway into a libidinality and form of expression that was wholly other to my own and, whilst it’d be disingenuous to deny a certain sense of exoticism in discovering the history of Black music whilst living my white British life, it ignited an autodidactic obsession in tracing the lines between the local culture I knew and that which seemed so radically culturally different.

Black music quickly became associated with the rhizomaticism of online cultures for me. The first hip hop track I ever heard was A Tribe Called Quest’s “Excursions”, selected as the opening tune of a mix CD I got sent from the US after taking part in a mixtape swap organised on a forum I used to post on.

If the title of the track didn’t already capture that “take a little trip and see” mentality, the lyrics disappear down a rabbit hole of references, genres, names, etc. It’s intoxicating if you’re already a hip hop head — imagine hearing it for the first time as a 15 year old white kid from Yorkshire.

What I like about it is that it captures the very autodidactic essence of adolescence whilst doubling down on the cartography of the band’s eclectic but loyal approach to sampling and culture with a four-minute extended verse flow that starts with the jazz-hiphop lineage in the first verse:…

Back in the days when I was a teenager
Before I had status and before I had a pager
You could find the Abstract listenin’ to hip-hop
My pops used to say, it reminded him of Bebop
I said, “Well, Daddy, don’t you know that things go in cycles?
Way that Bobby Brown is just amping like Michael”

… and then ends beyond the sleeve notes with:

What you gotta do is know the Tribe is in the sphere
The Abstract Poet, prominent like Shakespeare
(Or Edgar Allan Poe, or Langston Hughes, or…)


I mention all this because Deller has built an entire career on making these sorts of connections between cultural moments and there is always a sense that whiteness or white Britishness is the underlying thing being probed here. I’ve always particularly enjoyed his work connecting Acid House to mining bands, having enjoyed both a good rave and once playing lead cornet in a brass band when I was the same age as these kids.

Even this existence would be probed by strange outside forces: I remember taking a lesson from my trumpet teacher in his garage out towards Howden in East Yorkshire where he had a hoard of jazz memorabilia and a collection of battered VHS tapes that were on the verge of technological redundancy. He put one on of a live performance by Rahsaan Roland Kirk which felt like watching Top of the Pops beamed in from another dimension but every time you saw him outside the comfort of his own studio it’d be playing standards at the school BBQ.

This is to say there is a strange frequency to these encounters. They’re alien and mind-blowing but happened so often its strange now to remember I once thought they were so disparate. You feel enclosed in your own immediate community at that age but things only appear that way because the State has done it damndest to compartmentalise forms of expression along economic, racial and geographic lines. Some people never escape them.

This is reflected in the documentary. It’s interesting that, beyond the music, many of the Asian students on screen seem more curious about the miners’ strike and its relationship to a music they might be more familiar with through their friends and relatives. If I’m talking about my own experiences here, it’s because I had never thought before about the extent to which these perspectives mirror each other, precisely in the sense that they gaze back at each other over an apparent line of state-sanctioned difference.

They talk about the miners’ strike in the same way I’ve heard kids talk about the Troubles in Northern Ireland: everyone knows it was significant but today no one can make sense of the arguments for or against. Deller does it for them and all in the context of the rave scene as this underground web that connects London to Glasgow to Birmingham to Stoke-on-Trent to some unnamed field in Wales; how the scene spread outwards from the neighbourhoods these kids know today and into the outsideness of the Home Counties, tapping into a broader and more material sense of disenfranchisement felt nationwide.

When Deller begins to talk about this relationship to the countryside and to the historic libidinality of rural areas — again, in line with Wright’s Arcadia and Mark Fisher’s excellent essay “Baroque Sunbursts” — he discusses with one student this two-way alterity of how, today, the countryside is an alien place to inner city youth and, likewise, inner city youth are alien to rural areas. Deller’s aim, it seems, is to bridge this gap — and others — for a new generation.


Watching “Everybody in the Place”, where Deller is getting teenagers to read quotations from Karl Marx, Derrick May and Juan Atkins, list famous clubs from around the country, and letting them play with synths and samplers, regrounds these discrepancies in precisely the place they should be and indeed are explored, albeit indirectly. Teaching a classroom full of kids about rave culture feels, at first, like a radical gesture but quickly the novelty wears off and we see a group of kids beginning to understand the relevance of an underground scene to their more standardised education. It’s his way of saying, here’s how what they teach you in school connects to what they don’t.

In this sense, there is an unspoken affinity between these arguably by-gone cultures and the cultures these kids are no doubt immersed in when they go home at night. The anger and virality of drill music, so often in the news like rave was, the latest teenage moral panic on London’s streets, starts to appear like an explicitly 21st century form of stunted libidinal expression, caught in the bottleneck of inner city pressure.

This is arguably why rave culture did so well for itself. It was a culture that had a geographic outside to escape into, and Deller is not the first to claim that a reconnection with such Outsides is necessary if we’re to tap into these potentials again.


The importance of this for our sense of national and international identity is huge, and the key to this documentary’s approach, I think, is that it sidesteps the heady melting-pot euphoria of most rave documentaries. Deller, at one point, asks who in the class identifies as British and is met by complete silence. And so he goes on to challenge the unruliness of identity that has always haunted these lands — the folk traditions that might now be fatally associated with whiteness in their minds but which were just as antagonistic to the English state at large as rave and the subcultures of today.

Because of this approach, Deller succeeds in not fetishising the importance of a trans-Atlantic Blackness to cultural trends. He sidesteps the sort of wide-eyed wonder and hackneyed admiration that someone like me no doubt continues to fall into when talking about Black musics. It holds white and Black both up and says, “Look at the crazy shit all these people were doing and look how important it is to everything we love today.” Look how important Kraftwerk was to Detroit techno and look how important Detroit and its industries was to them. Look at how important Northern class politics is to 21st century inner city pressure… The difference is that the latter is generally framed negatively. All we hear about is how the white North has lost out to the racially diverse urban centres and London in particular. But London isn’t a happy place either and there’s a reciprocal relationship to be rebuilt here.

Deller’s tactic has long been to rebuild these relationships through the mapping of cultural rhizomes, and there are plenty of others we could still explore. After watching this documentary I’m left wondering: What’s the six degrees of separation between voguing and morris dancing? But the more important question is: what does the making of that kind of connection do to how we think about ourselves and how we encounter each other?

I’m reminded of the White Pube’s current essay on diversity and representation. They cite Riz Ahmed’s lovely speech to Parliament a few years back but then add an all important caveat:

The issue with us, as ~diverse~ publics, seeking representation as a singular end goal, is that it is fundamentally a liberal position. That is: it does not seek to overhaul, change, disrupt or dismantle. Rather to preserve; to move within the current structures that exist, that it recognises as broken, exploitative and oppressive, and expects to have a minority of that already excluded minority succeed within these busted frameworks. It does not look to change for all, only for a few. In forcing an excluded minority to funnel through the existing structures around us, this system ensures an assimilation into the cultural values that created the existing structures, and precludes those unwilling to buy into this assimilationist narrative from succeeding within it. In short; it believes in exceptionalism. The institution ensures its survival at all costs by absorbing the critique that hits it, bc it can point to a few success stories that have conformed to its requirements. This drive for representation within that system runs off of a politic of lack, and in that lack, it opens the door to neoliberal ideologies; of creating new markets to exploit and harvest for value. In our quest for representation and visibility through existing structures and channels, we will see ourselves consumed as a sellable commodity ourselves.

This is the resonant heart of Deller’s movie for me and likewise various politics explored on this blog. Dellers’ incomplete history of Britain is knowingly selective but it shows how cultural praxes of disruption are available to everybody in the place. The politics of Black musics and stereotypically white mining communities share a common — notably Marxist — grounding of seizing the means of production, whether that be national infrastructure or making tunes in your bedroom, each having the potential to influence people around the country and, indeed, the world, and explicitly without the exceptionalism required for your own continual state-sanctioned existence.

These “worlds” speak to each other more than we are encouraged to recognise and it demonstrates the innate flaws of this liberal position when talking about rave and mining in the same breath in a modern day classroom can look like a radical act. In reality, all Deller is doing is showing how two events that happened in spatiotemporal proximity to one another are related. It’s the sort of thing these GCSE students would be asked to write about in a History exam. The flaw of British education is we don’t do this for ourselves unless we’re talking about how we won the war.

Deller disrupts the “old” but nonetheless still contemporaneous order of things by reconstructing (through historicization) tandem lost potentials which remain buried in the future. I hope it’s these kids that go and dig it up.

Boris: Prime Minister of a Vanishing Land

Boris Johnson is prime minister of Great Britain and what shocks me most is my lack of shock. I have no troubled desire to pinch myself.

There has been a big cloud of trepidation trailing Johnson’s bizarre rise to power in recent weeks. On the one hand, many have been anxious that Johnson is walking into the most complex problems of national and international relations since the Second World War. On the other hand, many have been anxious that Johnson is the most complex problem for national and international relations since the Second World War.

The fact is that — as with Trump across the Atlantic — Boris is just one more 21st century political paradox, both symptom and product of his time; a 21st century politician incapable of addressing any 21st century problems… Because he is one…


The ins and outs of Johnson’s well-documented incompetence have been incessantly autopsied in recent days. Most interesting to me was James Butler’s article for The New York Times in which he declared that Johnson’s “premiership could bring about the end of Britain itself.”

This seems less like a doomsday prediction and more like a commiserating nod to the inevitable — and it is a statement that has since been echoed frequently across the mainstream media in this country — I noticed half a dozen BBC correspondents echoing this line without even a grimace the other day — but it would be wrong to give Johnson all the credit.

After a ship has already hit an iceberg, it would be silly to declare a change in captain as responsible for any worsening of fortune.

Johnson, in this somewhat tired analogy, feels like little more than a bit of light relief. Many of the Conservative Party members who voted Johnson into the top job seem to agree that we’re sinking but, rather than do anything about it, like readying the lifeboats, they’ve instead resigned themselves to their fate and seem to think that at least the new captain has a slightly more entertaining bedside manner than his predecessors and critics.

It’s Trump without any expectation that he’ll make the country great again… Which is sort of refreshing?

Butler, in The New York Times, writes in detail about the national situation that Johnson is now tasked with “fixing”:

The state of the United Kingdom, a constitutional compact founded in 1922 and stretching back, in one form or another, for centuries, is severely strained. Though Brexit is primarily driven by English passions, two of the four territories in the Union — Northern Ireland and Scotland — voted to remain. Both present immediate problems for Mr. Johnson — and for the future of Britain.

In Scotland, rancor at the sense that the country’s vote counted for little and subsequent repeated bouts of parliamentary chaos have led to renewed calls for a second independence ballot. Nicola Sturgeon, the first minister, insists Scotland will hold one if Brexit takes place. One of the most adroit politicians in Britain, Ms. Sturgeon knows that despite widespread misgivings about Brexit, the majority needed for independence does not currently exist. But recent polling suggests a Johnson government might tilt the scales in her favor. An independent Scotland may be conjured out of the chicanery of Mr. Johnson’s rule.

In Northern Ireland, Mr. Johnson is beholden to the Democratic Unionist Party, a hard-line Northern Irish Protestant party on which he will depend for a majority in Parliament. That severely curtails his room for maneuver as he attempts, one way or the other, to take Britain out of the European Union. The D.U.P. will not countenance separation from the rest of the United Kingdom — hence why the so-called backstop, effectively an insurance plan to avoid a hard border between Northern Ireland and its southern neighbor, fatally scuttled Theresa May’s thrice-rejected deal. It is hard to see how Mr. Johnson can extricate himself from this problem, whose protraction may have a decisive effect on the country’s internal politics. Calls for a United Ireland, encouraged by demographic change and the waning of unionist sentiment, appear to be gathering more support.

The threat of the break-up of Britain has been a spectre many have sought to ignore since at least the 1970s… Indeed, since the EU itself became a seemingly intractable part of our international lives. Following Butler’s diagnosis, the patchwork predictions more or less write themselves. Johnson was an utterly hopeless bull-in-a-china-shop Foreign Secretary who left many a diplomatic headache in his wake. Undoubtedly his tenure in the UK’s highest office will likewise end with a few more fractures in the porcelain constitutions of many a modern nation-state.


With all of this doom-and-gloom floating around, it makes a post about Johnson’s “election” — if you can call it that — seem a bit superfluous. There’s little more to be said that hasn’t already been written down in countless op-eds around the world. And no one would be surprised to hear that Xenogothic is quite excited about the prospect of the UK’s consolidated power finally being broken down and better distributed. Heck, it feels like patchwork Britain is about to go mainstream!

Beyond all that though, what made Tuesday 23rd July most interesting was that it coincided with a listening party for the official release of Mark Fisher and Justin Barton’s On Vanishing Land, held at the Castle Cinema in Homerton, north London.

Having got the start time wrong and arriving far too early, I had the opportunity for a quick catch-up with Steve Goodman before the event began. He was quick to highlight the sad irony of it all — an already very familiar feeling at this point whenever there’s an event that Mark should be at but isn’t; should be writing about but can’t.

The Castle Cinema, Homerton

Specifically, Steve noted how a man Mark considered “his nemesis” was now the prime minister — a man who frequently appeared in Mark’s tirades against the present state of things; who Mark once said embodied a “form of faux bonhomie and cynical dismissal [that] is an extremely dangerous problem by which class power naturalises itself”; who Mark said epitomises the death of British satire, demonstrating how being the butt of the joke could become “a weapon used by the establishment to protect itself.” It was yet another event during which we could only wonder what kind of electrifyingly irate K-Punk post we might have been treated to.

But On Vanishing Land was the perfect consolation prize, in many ways, not only as an eerie memorial to Mark’s strange relationship with this weird isle but also for its resonance with a disturbingly precarious vision of the United Kingdom that Johnson’s premiership was now exacerbating.

In particular, the audio-essay’s frequent echoes of M.R. James’ ghost story Oh, Whistle and I’ll Come To You, My Lad! became almost humorous to me. A story about an eccentric old establishment don unearthing a dog-whistle on a ruinous Suffolk beach and being haunted by the eerie entity it summons?

How I wish Boris Johnson could be haunted by his dog-whistles…


Apt graffiti at Dalston Kingsway station on our way to Homerton

M.R. James’ conservatism was well-explored by Mark, particularly in The Weird and the Eerie. As much as he enjoyed his stories, he was always keen to note how afraid of the outside James was — contrary to another Fisher favourite, Joan Lindsey’s Picnic at Hanging Rock.

Mark would write James’ various “warnings to the curious” declare the outside to be a perilous place where the deep past is waiting for any opportunity to enact its revenge on the present.

Justin’s ethereal tones, which dominate On Vanishing Land, nonetheless betray a Jamesian anxiety. Looking out on the “nerve ganglion of capitalism” that unfurls into sea from the port at Felixstowe, the wandering pair sense that something out there that seems to have “gotten away with something.”

However, we should remember that “terrors are not all there is to the outside,” as Mark would also write in The Weird and the Eerie.

What has gotten away with something is, undoubtedly, capitalism itself — but that suggests that what haunts is related to what capitalism has failed to fully overcome. This was important, no doubt, to Mark because the terror felt by James, read today, is immediately engulfed by class conflict.

Similar in tone to Lovecraft’s racism, the horrors that emanate from James’ outsides feel feudal and nomadic — destratified curses unleashed by coastal erosion lie in wait, hoping to attach themselves parasitically to the well-to-do of modern society.

As such, so many of James’ stories reveal Cambridge toffs — like James himself — so rooted in the nation’s intellectual and political establishment — to be little more than fragile men of the bourgeoisie. It is a surprise that they ever make it outside their dorms without keeling over in fright.

By contrast, the English coastline becomes the relative wilderness that embodies lost worlds and incursions from the outside. The fishing industries of England’s coastal settlements become synonymous with bold travellers of the unknown, hard for James’ academic brain to fully compute.

(This is an accurate sentiment for many on the UK’s harsh east coast. Growing up in Hull, I was always fascinated by the perverse pride taken in a brutal industry that claimed countless lives. Like the miners elsewhere in Yorkshire, the tension of a community grounded in treacherous and terrifying labour creates a very special kind of subjectivity. This is something beautifully explored by Justin Barton in his 2015 book Hidden Valleys.)

This is not to say that James’ anxiety is singular and unexpected. In fact, it is an open acknowledgement of a shared Jamesian terror that gives On Vanishing Land such an air of a distinctly working class bravery before the shrouded face of unknown pasts and futures — each, notably, as ruinous as each other in the Suffolk mind.

Caught in between the two, a subtext emerges that perforates the eerie soundscape of On Vanishing Land which declares that we should not wait for our ghost ships to come in but rather row out and meet them.

This is likewise a sentiment worth holding onto this week as Boris Johnson drags a weight of uncertainty onto the nation-state’s future. It is a sentiment perhaps best expressed in Justin’s conclusion to his 2015 book, Hidden Valleys:

To travel into the unknown is a sober-joyful process of gaining energy by overcoming self-importance, and by eradicating all forms of self-indulgence — and it is a development of the ability to have effective, creative comradeship-alliances with other human beings. It is a process of perceiving — and dreaming — a way toward wider spaces of existence.

Beyond the ongoing disaster of ordinary reality is the second sphere of action.



On Vanishing Land arrived in the post yesterday and it’s a beautiful thing. Justin’s short essay in the gatefold is great. Go get it.

Thalassic Geophilosophy and Negative Entropy

Following on from yesterday’s post…

It seems the jury is still out on Nick Land’s latest essay for Jacobite. Is it further evidence of his return to serious philosophy? If it is, recent Twitter activity has nonetheless ensured his contemporary reputation sticks firmly in place.

However you want to think about Nick’s conduct online — I’m in the camp of “a succession of (nonetheless grotesque) masks” — there’s no denying the impact on the rest of his genuinely interesting work which doesn’t go in for trying to upset as many people as possible.

I say this only because I’ve been interested to read more responses to this latest essay which seem to read Land’s Twitter personas into his conclusions even when they’re not there. Personally, I found “@Outsideness” totally absent from this latest “Nick Land” essay, and enjoyed it all the more for it. (More @UF_blog with @deadliner subtext.)

Nevertheless, I was reading @lainofthewired’s write-up on it this morning and had some further thoughts about it. Lain writes:

Land talks about the homogeneity that entropy brings to a system, he talks about the smothering of it, and from there builds an argument for what it actually is [–] isolationism, in defense of diversity. It is duly just a defense, by magical words and a misunderstanding of thermodynamics (it is all a metaphor, until it doesn’t work as metaphor), of some sorts of nationalism, apparently without racism, or not your usual kind of racism.

Lain’s critique of Land’s grasp of thermodynamics aside — I don’t really see how “the universe is too broad and unbounded a system for me to care about so I’m going to reintroduce the parochialism Land was originally critiquing back into his metaphor” works as an argument — this reading of its apparent isolationism seems like a complete misreading of what the essay is drawing on. It is precisely the isolationism of “reason” that Land is attacking here.


I think a better understanding of Land’s critique of entropy can be found through a consideration of his prior geophilosophy.

We can begin, as so many do, with a cliff face — the strata of civilisation rising high into the air, everything compressed into a rigid and monolithic geological system.

Then we have entropy.

Entropy as a force and a process can take many metaphoric forms but for now let’s call it the sea. It encroaches on the land, disintegrating it — the land that Kant calls “the terrain of pure understanding”.

Land would quote Kant on the sea and this terrain in The Thirst for Annihilation. Kant writes that:

This domain [of reason] is an island, enclosed by nature itself within unadulterable limits. It is the land of truth — enchanting name! — surrounded by a wide and stormy ocean, the native home of illusion, where many a fog bank and many a swiftly melting iceberg give the deceptive appearance of farther shores, deluding the adventurous seafarer ever anew with empty hopes, and engaging him in enterprises which he can never abandon and yet is unable to carry to completion.

Land infamously responds to Kant’s isolationism as follow:

Is not transcendental philosophy a fear of the sea? Something like a dike or a sea-wall?

A longing for the open ocean gnaws at us, as the land is gnawed by the sea. A dark fluidity at the roots of our nature rebels against the security of terra firma, provoking a wave of anxiety in which we are submerged, until we feel ourselves drowning, with representation draining away. Nihil ulterius. […]

Reason in its legitimate function is a defence against the sea, which is also an inhibition of the terrestrial; retarding our tendency to waste painstakingly accumulated resources in futile expeditions, a ‘barrier opposed to the expenditure of forces’ as Bataille describes it. It is a fortified boundary, sealing out everything uncertain, irresolvable, dissolvant, a sea-wall against the unknown, against death.

The sea, for Land, and countless others, is most representative of the death drive. It is what Sandor Ferenczi called that “thalassic regressive undertow”. It is from whence we came and where we will eventually return.

It is here we see exactly why Land is rejecting the “closed system” of reason that Lain is calling for. Even the closed system itself, from Land’s cosmic perspective, is (or will one day be) redshifted into unreason. Lain’s reasonable restrictions are just such a sea-wall, and it is precisely the false reason of this sort of attempt to stay in the middle ground that demands a critique of the leftist paradox of a differential universalism.

To return to our geological metaphor, the conditional welcoming of the entropic sea leads to the breakdown of the monolithic cliff-face. Molecules break free. The great compression breaks apart and atomises. Each grain is free to roam but is not free from the cycles of entropy that freed it in the first place. Individual grains of sand, each unique and destratified, nonetheless gather to form a terminal beach. Entropy leads to homogeneity — a homogeneity that is arguably even more homogeneous than the jagged strata from which it came.

If we’re to think of the sea — as perhaps Land does himself — as being analogous to capitalism-as-critique, we can see why Land likes it. The void on the other side of capitalism becomes far less interesting than the process of disintegration in itself. His loyalty lies, forever and always, with the sea itself, rather than the potential beaches it might create.

This is, likewise, in line with the patchwork of Deleuze and Guattari, for whom “the sea is the spatial field par excellence that brings out smoothness and striation.” How a contemporary subject can navigate such a space and remain in tact remains unknown — it may even be impossible.



Elements in a quantal world:
The terminal beach.
The terminal bunker.
The blocks.

The landscape is coded.
Entry points into the future=Levels in a spinal landscape=zones of significant time.

August 5. Found the man Traven. A strange derelict figure, hiding in a bunker in the deserted interior of the island. He is suffering from severe exposure and malnutrition, but is unaware of this or, for that matter, of any other events in the world around him

He maintains that he came to the island to carry out some scientific project — unstated — but I suspect that he understands his real motives and the unique role of the island… In some way its landscape seems to be involved with certain unconscious notions of time, and in particular with those that may be a repressed premonition of our own deaths. The attractions and dangers of such an architecture, as the past has shown, need no stressing…

August 6. He has the eyes of the possessed. I would guess that he is neither the first, nor the last, to visit the island.

From NRx to Radical Left

Unqualified Reservations closed its doors in 2016. From its ashes two apocryphal schools were born. First of all, the so-called alt-right, which appropriated many Moldbuggian terms and theses, and then ended up happily merging into the various reactionary movements that hit all the major Western democracies. Secondly, a sort of esoteric school of accelerationists, communists, weirdos, Stirnerians or simple bastians appeared, confirming the Landian prophecy, which decided to burst the contradictions of the Moldbuggian proposal, transforming patchwork into a metapolitical model of social disconnection, capable of blowing up the capitalist there is no alternative and freeing up possibilities of emancipation that are currently unthinkable.

A new essay from Enrico Monacelli over on Italian site L’Indiscreto called “Dal pensiero neo-reazionario alla sinistra radicale” — or “From NRx to Radical Left”.

Although I read it via Google Translate, it’s very good and contains a very nice shout out to Xenogothic.

Most importantly, it contains a very nice distillation of how more leftist blogs — or at least this one — have adapted Moldbuggian geopolitics for their own ends:

The traits that distinguish this esoteric school [from the alt-right] are essentially two:

1) a strong criticism of social-Darwinism and the libertarian tendencies of the neo-reactionaries. In other words, these apocryphal interpreters of Mencius Moldbug have no intention of creating a market of power, based on the law of the strongest, but a series of temporarily autonomous zones in which to implement radically divergent life forms. 

2) Radicalize the exit option perspective. If, in fact, for Moldbug, the exit option was simply a safety valve to defuse social tensions and bring down the malfunctioning power structures, in this new reading the exit option becomes an escape route, in which to re-imagine politics as a space of experimentation and permanent revolution.

Northern Devolution

It’s been well over a year since this blog first considered the north of England’s post-Brexit fragmentation in “The Gothic Secession of Patchwork Yorkshire” and “Lovers’ Flight” but things have been pretty quiet since then.

This is no doubt because Brexit as a whole has taken up so much of the national conscience/consciousness around issues of sovereignty and identity, but I was interested to hear of a new campaign launched today across 33 newspapers and websites based in the North that are calling for further devolution in Northern communities, with Manchester Evening News seemingly taking the lead with this cover story. It seems like it might be time to jump back into patchwork posting:

Today, the Manchester Evening News joins forces with rival publishers across the north to call for Britain’s main political parties to commit to a revolution in the way government treats our communities.

Our Power Up The North collaboration between 33 newspapers and websites comes exactly a year after the launch of the One North campaign in the wake of unprecedented chaos on the region’s railways.

The collective voice of the north’s titles compelled the government to take immediate action on behalf of the millions of passengers who suffered travel misery.

Now, at a time of unparalleled political uncertainty, we are calling on the main parties — and those who aspire to lead them — to spell out what they intend to do, and how they will work with others, to narrow the north-south divide.

With nominations closing in the Tory party contest to succeed Theresa May — and with the prospect of a general election in the near future — every day of dither and delay risks leaving the north at an even greater disadvantage.

The case for fundamental change is now unanswerable and our political leaders must commit to real change.

This frustration over outdated, underfunded and inadequate transport infrastructure has been an interestingly central issue that lurks in the background of various Northern devolution / independence movements. This isn’t a concern to be sniffed at. In fact, as we’ve seen before on the blog, it is the way in for even those who work in government to see the positive reasoning behind local government fragmentation.

It’s interesting how this has happened. The government’s first response to Northern stagnation was to try and fix transport infrastructure between north and south, so that it’s easier for everyone to get to London on high-speed rail. But this project has staggered and stalled at every turn, and that’s even before we consider how the national problem of over-priced travel will no doubt mean that HS2 — as the project is called — will only help those who don’t need helping.

What’s interesting about the HS2 drama is that it has also served to highlight the stagnation of local infrastructure, exacerbating rather than placating the fissures between internally disjointed identities. This fissure now seems to be so stark that, the other week, the MEN published the findings of a report carried out by former head of the civil service Lord Bob Kerslake:

His most striking conclusion draws parallels with German reunification in the 1990s, when leaders there faced a huge uphill battle to heal the economic chasm between West Germany and the former Soviet East.  

He points to the vast waves of investment poured into the Eastern half of the country over the years that followed, thanks to a national consensus in Germany that the gap had to be closed.

This is a fascinating comparison, not least because the MEN is now calling for its inverse application. This is not a call for investment towards reunification but investment towards disintegration.

This logic is at the heart of this is slippery and someone recently asked about this in my Twitter DMs, asking:

…how do you identify that things are becoming more fragmentary, (or that they need to in order to break the impasse of capital) and encourage that, whilst not being a spoilsport — anti-collective, anti-community.

I definitely get what you mean about fragmentation being underwritten by unruliness — I’ve been thinking alot recently about brexit as an outcropping of a tradition of british (maybe english) unruliness — an inherent mistrust of authority (or maybe more specifically towards the middle bourgeois — deference to royalty and aristocracy persists!) that even if it manifests commonly in ways that are quite xenophobic have a basic drive that is about strengthening your community — I don’t know, its how to figure that without it lapsing into a closed borders mentality.

My response to this was to note that “exit” talk is promiscuous. It’s one of our central problems today, I think, and an issue that is at the heart of a lot of the left’s problems. We see it with “accelerationism”, we see it with ecopolitics, we see it everywhere and patchwork is, in some respects, a political philosophy that tries to handle this unruliness openly and honestly. Because, yes, a community that “defines itself by what it escapes” can just as easily be a white ethnostate that defines itself by its escape from multiculturalism as it can be a communist collective which defines itself by its exit from capitalistic modes of relation.

The issue that I have at present is that the left’s utter hostility towards even the suggestion of complicity in other forms of governance and politics means they routinely box themselves into stasis. No change is better than the wrong change but I don’t think it is difficult to show how that logic is nothing but repressive and grounded on paranoia more than any actual analysis of political trends and intentions.

Nick Land’s inner-outer political orientations are key here and this is an issue this blog has repeatedly taken with Brexit which is, in Land’s own terms, an exit that “models itself on a protected state, in which belonging is sacred, and boundaries are rigorously policed”. In contrast to this, the UK’s other burgeoning independence movements — in Scotland, Wales, Yorkshire and Cornwall, for instance — are “defined primarily by Exit”, by what they escape. They’re not about a retreat in order to consolidate an identity but rather an exit in order to open themselves up beyond the boundaries placed on them by an historical oppressor. (It’s here that the dismissal of an ethics of exit alongside an ethnonationalism becomes a woefully false consciousness.)

This is a logic which Brexiteers try to embody but fail to at every turn, incapable of separating their WTO ambitions from a consolidated nationhood. It reminds me of Ed’s excellent post “Demons and Disjunction“, which speaks to England’s internal doubling so well:

In the destruction of the primitive double, the wild chains of proliferating difference are cut off; one no longer enters into transit and trade with figures on the outside, but turns inwards to operate under the sway of predetermined sets of options that are each flush with a particular unifying logic. The double begins in multiplicity and ends unified and coded.

The wholesale exit strategy of Brexit is only exacerbating the economic inequalities that exist across this country, and as our London parliament proves itself unwilling or incapable of addressing this issue a minoritarian unruliness is becoming more and more vocal about its demands for a sustainable future.

We’ll see what more becomes of this in future but it feels, once again, like our national and intranational politics must contend with the broader possibilities of these political ideas sooner rather than later — for all our sakes.

Will Nationalists Bury The Nation State?

Although willing to eat my some of my words from the previous post, having now read this follow-up from Jehu, it feels only sensible to further clarify what we’re actually seeing here in the aftermath of the recent European elections, because Jehu’s viewpoint still feels like a strangely detached and reductive commentary, uncharacteristic of Jehu’s otherwise on-point Brexit analysis. He writes:

Don’t make the mistake of trying to make sense of the EU parliament election results. Remember, in Britain a party that didn’t exist a month ago managed to come from nowhere and capture the plurality. You can’t make sense of the complete collapse of the nation-state, because the nation-state was how you made sense of everything up until this point.

Again, there’s a trajectory here that it would be a mistake to ignore. The Brexit Party may not have existed a month ago but it’s hardly new. It was founded by the former leader of UKIP, Nigel Farage, and that party’s economic spokesperson, Catherine Blaiklock.

The “new” Brexit Party’s sizeable vote share can be seen as coming straight from UKIP’s own and the party was openly formed as an attempt at a do-over following UKIP’s fall into irrelevance; as an attempt at rescuing its own image following its failure to define a space for itself post-referendum.

Many commentators have long predicted the fall of UKIP as a party given that it had campaigned doggedly on holding a referendum as its only policy and had failed to find a new direction after achieving that goal, with attempts at formulating a broader manifesto ridiculed in all corners. And so, in comes the Brexit Party to move the conversation along a bit and give the party-political wing of our nation’s Brexiteers a new single-policy party to throw their weight behind — that policy now being to leave the EU and set up trade deals with the WTO.

Even though the party definitely did not come from nowhere, it is nonetheless an astounding achievement that it now has 29 seats in the European parliament, making it the biggest party in the whole of the EU… But those 29 seats are only an extra 5 in addition to UKIP’s 24 seats, won in the last European election in 2014, which then made that party the biggest in the EU parliament.

UKIP now has no seats there… Mostly because all of its previous seat-holders defected to the Brexit Party…

So, whilst I agree with the sentiment that you can’t “make sense of the complete collapse of the nation-state”, there is nonetheless a clear evolution here. The Brexit Party’s “nowhere” is quite obviously UKIP. This is not to deny the party its success but it is nonetheless a continued one which has been growing for many years. To deny that trajectory is to give the party even more credit than even it wants to claim for itself.

This previous success is worthy of being further acknowledged, not least because I completely ignored it in the last post. It was wrong to suggest that these EU elections are of no consequence to domestic policy, but those consequences nonetheless remain indirect. Granted, that’s still not something anyone should ignore. It was arguably UKIP’s previous success in 2014 that led to Prime Minister David Cameron reading the pre-general electoral tea leaves and agreeing to hold a referendum in the first place in order to save his own party’s skin, but that’s not to say that UKIP has had any say in negotiations since then.

This has been the party’s consistent humiliation. They persuaded the in-crowd to throw a party but then weren’t invited to attend it. They have nonetheless put on a great deal of outside pressure — mostly relying on the press’s obsession with their hopeless antics — but outside Farage’s bloody-minded EU parliamentary performances and their favour with an international rightist movement, they have achieved very little outside of blowing the political weathervane a few degrees to the right. (Notably not as far as they themselves would have liked.)

Farage has been repeatedly humiliated in other ways too, of course. His strong EU election performances have never been repeated in general elections and, at every turn, his other business successes have been resoundingly ignored by the UK’s political establishment. (Lest we forget that, despite Theresa May’s many sycophantic gestures of support to Donald Trump, Trump’s suggestion that Farage would make a great US ambassador was laughed at by all.)

As said last time, all that remains to be seen before any real comment can be made is whether the Brexit Party manages to buck its own trend and repeat its success in a general election. It is not known when the UK will go through this process again — it’s only two years since the last one — but most commentators expect it will be very soon.

Success at a general election is the only way in which the Brexit Party will be able to influence the Brexit process directly and, with everyone already expecting the two main parties to get a hefty beating in the EU elections, it is unlikely the parties’ EU success this year will influence the seated government as much as they have previously . Labour and the Tories will no doubt be reconsidering their position on Brexit now as a result but so far this has only meant the Labour party suggesting they will finally agree to a second referendum. And if Labour is softening, it’s likely we’ll see the Conversatives, under a new (Boris Johnson?) leadership, hardening its own stance in response.

However, things don’t end here. As Jehu continues:

But there is a pattern if you are cunning enough to catch it. We have been here before. In 2015, SYRIZA, just three years old, swept aside the major parties in Greece and became the ruling party. It had all the appearance of a party in power. The reality turned out to be otherwise, of course. What SYRIZA actually had was the opportunity to bury the state — an opportunity it squandered foolishly in a vain attempt to hang on to state power.

I said at the time that SYRIZA’s failure would be to the benefit of the fascists and let me just emphasize that I was absolutely correct. The radical Left refuses to admit its mistakes, refuses to correct its errors. It paves a path for its political enemies. Even now radicals want us to believe that the results of the European election have no domestic political consequences, that business as usual, in the most literal sense of a continuation of wage slavery, can continue unhindered.

Suit yourselves, the nation-state is dead; stick a fork in it … and the radical Left.

This is an interesting comparison, not least because Syriza emerged onto the national and international stage on a similarly Eurosceptic ticket. They, too, troubled the waters by winning big in the EU elections before — most importantly — going on to succeed in repeating this feat at a general election — an election triggered by Syriza’s EU success indicating a complete lack of confidence in the ruling parties.

Syriza were, in some ways, a nationalist party and one which hoped to exit EU neoliberalism in order to implement a newly socialist form of government. In this sense, Syriza was a symbol of hope in a Greece that was wracked by an EU-enforced austerity and the new party had promised to take the fight straight to the EU’s doorstep.

Their success on a national as well as international level sent a shockwave around Europe and an international Left watched closely to see what might happen next. Unfortunately, not a lot did happen. Syriza failed, knocked back by the EU’s governing body, which proceeded to make an example of Greece’s dissenting political sovereignty.

It was largely this defeat that stoked a new wave of Euroscepticism on the Left abroad around Europe, and particularly in the UK where the conversation was already bubbling up from the right. Corbyn was elected as leader to a dead-in-the-water Labour Party after this fact but he has continued to struggle against the traditionalists in his own party and the conservatism of his own fanbase.

And so, the UK Left’s failure has been its inability to contend with this austerity issue. Whilst Corbyn was championed for his strong stance against austerity at home, little has been said about austerity abroad. The right falls into the opposite position — austerity (and other kinds of economic limitation) abroad take precedence over those implemented by the government at home.

For the middle-class left, this dynamic isn’t even acknowledged in any part of the conversation. Yes, we all love being a part of the big European family and all the freedoms that provides us — particularly our freedom to travel between states with ease. However, the hard lesson, reverberating down the years and landing on deaf ears, is that “Syriza is paying the price for promising the impossible: abolishing austerity while remaining in the EU.”

Despite this failure, this is the same plan the British left has held up for itself. Defeat the Tories, defeat austerity, and continue living in the EU happily ever after. Whilst the situation in the UK is not as dire as in Greece, little has happened to suggest a Corbyn government that remained in the EU could achieve radical change where Syriza couldn’t. (Although the growing dissent amongst various other countries could potentially lead to internal reform — and this is a dissenting bloc which was not so present prior to the UK’s Brexit debacle.)

It is obvious that this is a lesson the Left elsewhere — and especially in the UK — has not learned. And this is something that I think Corbyn instinctively knows but has utterly failed to publicly articulate, perhaps because he knows that middle-class internationalism will always trump working-class austerity. And, furthermore, it is the inability to link these two things together that has also been his downfall. It seems that the people he is fighting for have swayed to the right, whilst the hollow words of a middle-class left are all that is keeping him in charge.

This has to be acknowledged because this is precisely the promise that the right successfully made to the general public, even if dishonestly. The left’s argument has been that the Brexit divorce bill will make austerity worse, not to mention the fact that the EU has given many of our country’s poorest regions a great deal of funding to alleviate issues of socioeconomic depression already. The right argues that, freed from EU limitations, we’ll be able to rake in more money and fund that back into our own services without any bureacratic hand-holding. We’d be worse off, says the left, whilst the right says the opposite.

So which is it? The misinformation and lack of imagination in government makes it hard to tell. I’m still somewhat of the opinion that a right-wing Brexit is in favour of neoliberalism at home over neoliberalism abroad, and we can easily swap “neoliberalism” out for austerity. Outside of the EU, with the Tories in charge, I doubt anything would improve within the communities that are resoundingly voting for change. It is in this sense that I’m personally sympathetic to Jehu’s claim that the radical left has been woefully inept at countering the narrative of “business as usual, in the most literal sense of a continuation of wage slavery” — and I’m left wondering if his follow-up post might be silently including my own previous post in its judgment — but it seems that even Jehu is not only glossing over leftist’s failures but also rightist successes here.

This blog has repeatedly echoed the claim that we are simply living on the slowly decaying corpse of the nation-state but still, there’s something egregiously lacking here.

I’m reminded, as ever, of Tom Nairn’s book The Break-Up of Britain — the book I have turned to again and again throughout this Brexit process, in hoping to understand how we got here and what was lost along the way.

Nairn’s book was published in 1977, only 8 years after Britain first joined the EU, and in that book he too predicts the death of the nation-state and sees the EU as an opportunity for its accelerated demise, potentially allowing the introduction of alternative political and economic strategies for various newly established regions that may result from a post-EU fragmenting.

(This certainly happened elsewhere but not in the UK, and the EU was cunning enough to legislate a straitjacket for those newly-formed countries if they wanted to join the club, which they had to accept in trying to recover not just from civil war but — in many cases — post-Soviet poverty more generally.)

Nairn also notes, for instance, how this rapid decay of internal British relations is not simply the result of EU consensus but rather a dissensus amongst the states that make up the British isles most specifically. He goes on to predict that, if Great Britain remains in the EU, it will inevitably fragment soon afterwards — and this is very good news for the radical left.

This didn’t happen, of course, but the threat has nonetheless persisted, and it seems more likely today that Nairn’s predictions — that Scotland will lead the charge and challenge not just how we view class struggle but also national struggle in this multi-nation-state — may still come true, albeit after a considerable delay. (Neoliberalism is, of course, very good at those.)

One of the primary arguments made by Nairn, in his Marxist appraisal of the state of Europe in 1977, is that the dynamics we currently see warring with each other are already familiar to us. It is a old tension between Luxemburgist and Leninist revolution.

For Rosa Luxembourg, Nairn writes, “workers or intellectuals might have to make a choice between a nationalist struggle and a class struggle” and it was her view that “the former should never be given priority” over the latter. As far as she was concerned, “national struggle was a distraction, if not a positively hostile barrier, to what really mattered: the imminent break-through of the class-struggle.”

Lenin, however, disagreed with Luxembourg:

[H]e argued that the nationalist revolts had a more positive meaning. The social forces and passions they harnessed were too great to be genuinely ‘renounced’; and in any case they worked to unseat the old dynasties, and so foster conditions generally favourable to social revolution. The break-up of these old states was necessary (thought admittedly far from a sufficient) condition of the kind of change marxists were working towards. In this pragmatic spirit the nationalism of liberation struggles ought to be encouraged, at least up to the moment of their seizure of state power. After that, it would of course become the task of the revolutionaries to disassociate themselves from the nationalists: national liberation would then turn into ‘bourgeois nationalism’, and a force hostile to the broader revolutionary cause.

This is relevant to our present situation if only due to its complete absence from political discussions today, and that is due to the history of European Marxism in itself and a more recently British political dementia.

Both Luxembourg and Lenin were refuted, of course, and their strategic advice turned out to be impotent in the face of capitalism’s continued and cunning development. Nevertheless, Nairn’s appraisal of the legacy of these arguments remains strangely resonant today:

Lenin argued that nationalist upheavals could contribute to socialist revolution where it counted, in the great centres. With appropriate modifications, one can surely make roughly the same case here. The fact is that neo-nationalism has become the grave-digger of the old state in Britain, and as such the principal factor making for a political revolution of some sort — in England as well as the small countries. Yet, because this process assumes an unexpected form, many on the metropolitan left solemnly write it down as betrayal of the revolution. […]

[However,] the marxist left which totally spurns Westminster and (on paper at least) wants nothing more than its overthrow, also criticizes the separatists. Their reason is that proletarian socialism is supposed to be the grave-digger, and no one else will do.

Nairn’s argument here is inseparable from what were then newly revived independence movements in Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, but the analysis nonetheless holds strong. We can look, of course, to the huge gains made by the SNP in recent years — a party which dominates in Scotland and swept the board in the 2019 EU elections, winning every single seat; their continued successes making a second (and this time no doubt successful) independence referendum all the more likely.

In this sense, Scottish nationalists are continuing to do their part to bury the British state, but the same can be said of the English nationalists too — albeit perhaps unwittingly. We can look to Tommy Robinson and Carl Benjamin’s woeful MEP campaigns, on English nationalist tickets, which seemed to show them as ringers of their own death-knells, having largely fuelled this antagonism against the establishment but lacking any real support beyond being political saboteurs. Neither would attract the audiences that they do without the rise of a popular nationalism but it seems that their domineering presence is paradoxically indicative of their own irrelevance, and the election results proved as much, with working class communities in the north-west of England resoundingly rejecting them.

What does this mean? I have no idea. Jehu is certainly right that trying to make any coherent sense of this collapse is a loser’s game, but still we can at least accurately identify the paradoxes fuelling this dissent and the national struggle / class struggle divide remains, quite obviously, the front line of the culture war.

I am happy to take any embarrassment that might emerge from this — I write the above tentatively, knowing Jehu is far more knowledge about the history of Marxism than I am — but it does seem to me that, if we’re going to be honest about the position the UK currently finds itself in, as cathartic as laughing at the scrambling political classes is, there is surely more we can say that might reveal something about the opportunities that lie ahead.

That — along with everything else — is where the left continues to fail and fail again, stuttering over the enunciation of its own role in a crisis that the movement’s intellectuals predicted 50 years before the movement suffered a great amnesia. It is perhaps because of the left’s insistence on teaching its own global successes that it fails to account for its local failures in the minds of its future generations.

In that sense, I suppose I agree with Jehu wholeheartedly, but since I’m living in it, I’m still left wanting to trace the elusive boundaries of this moment in the UK so that we might articulate something worth hearing before it’s too late.

Too late for what? Perhaps before neoliberalism entrenches itself to such a degree it actually survives the downfall of the nation-state.

Maybe that’s an impossibility and a dumb note to end on but, to be honest, nothing surprises me anymore. That certainly wouldn’t.

I suppose the point is this: the “radicals want us to believe that the results of the European election have no domestic political consequences” precisely because nothing seems to be of any consequence anymore. Pointing and laughing at the frenzied stasis is as impotent a response as pathetically accepting it, surely?

There is always more to be said, and it needs to be said because no one else is saying it.