Monday, August 19, 2013

Heliogabalus






Heliogabalus

            I picked up a promotional flyer in the form of a card which was advertising a performance of a theatrical work called ‘Eliogabalo’, which was recently being performed in my neighborhood in New York City.   The title of the play ‘Eliogabalo’ refers to and is a variation on the name of the Roman Emperor Eliogabal (reigned 218 – 222 C.E.), whose name is variously given throughout the historical record as Elagabal, Eliogabal, or Eliogabalus, but who is best known by the Hellenized version of his name, ‘Heliogabalus’, though his actual Roman name, which indicates his dynastic heritage, was Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (not to be confused with the name of the much better known emperor Marcus Aurelius (reigned 161-180 C.E.).
           
            The theater at which ‘Eliogabal’ was being performed has in the recent past been a venue which has sheltered within its walls some very intelligent stage presentations and, in the milieu of the hideous decline of New York and of the U.S. into bourgeois redneck cesspools, was thus a somewhat welcome refuge from the “mind” of this redneck culture. Despite this theater’s progressivism purely within the realm of art (see my prior post on the ignorance and isolation of the New York art world from the real political world), its flyer described the assassination of this gay hero as “well deserved” and used the history of scorn heaped on this him as fodder for the promotion of their play, using the phrases “infamous for his sexual appetites” and “decadent.”  The latter two descriptions might be forgiven if what passes as the New York avant-garde were not as ignorant of the political, as neutralized, and as resistant to real political involvement and political radicalism as it is. 

            In the Judaic ethical heritage in which we in the West are all still trapped, one in which sex and sexuality are automatically problematized, as is desire, Heliogabalus has received ignominious treatment by historians and others, who have fallen all over themselves in desperation to vituperate and denigrate him, in the process embarrassingly pointing up their incompetence as historians and conveyors of history.  This is because, largely according to this Judaic ethical heritage, the heritage of the Western ethical framework and of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Heliogabalus is sexually heretical. Heliogabalus, never mind for the moment the other factors of his short life, such as his lack of control over his class position and disposition in the system of governmental power and his extreme youth upon assumption of the leadership of the greatest empire of the ancient Western world (he was 14 upon accession), is being evaluated retrospectively by a culture that, via the fusion of modern scienticity, naturalism, and Judaic anti-sexual ethicality, invented sexuality and heterosexuality and promoted misogyny, women’s disempowerment, and the chauvinistic, heterosexist-masturbation mode of society in which we still operate.  The first of these two criteria for “evaluation” were unknown to the Romans, and the third, taken together as misogyny, was present but not in the same ways or to the same degree as it would become in later centuries. 
           
            Heliogabalus as emperor demonetized the Roman currency to make wealth more accessible to persons other than hoarders and brutalizers, appointed an all female senate, also giving other high-level offices and assignations to women, and changed the Roman religion to one of worship of the sun, connecting its lineage to a more Eastern tradition that included local deities of the Ba’alim, such as Ba’alzebul, converted by the Jewish priests to the pejorative Ba’alzebub or Be’elzebub, ‘lord of the flies’, which moniker became attached to the Judaic idea of Satan and of evil.  Heliogabalus, though praised by many, supported by the armies, and considered progressive, was not ultimately very interested in the ideas of proper comportment which had become attached to the idea of the Roman emperor, and preferred a life of majesty and adventure, though all the while not abandoning concern for the welfare of the people.[i]  Retrospectively, Heliogabalus is a gay hero, in that his existence was a well-timed and elegant slap in the face to the denigration of sexual desire and of homosexuality which would eventually come to establish a penumbra over Western civilization, and which ideas would take over and finally destroy Rome in the form of the Christian Church. 

            Although he had many lovers and apparently several husbands, Heliogabalus once said of himself that he was most happy being called the wife, mistress, and queen of Hierocles, his blond chariot driver, whom he attempted to have declared Caesar.  He was fascinated by the life of 
 

Heliogabalus

prostitutes, and made himself up and tried to solicit men for money in brothels and taverns.  He is reported to have turned the imperial palace in Rome into a brothel, with red lights in doorways which led to rooms in which he and his favored presumably received men, who may have been hand picked in advance.  Heliogabalus had a black stone, which was apparently a meteorite, brought from Syria to Rome, and this stone was displayed in the house of worship, or Eliogabalum which he had built on the Palatine Hill, above the Circus Maximus, and this stone became the representation of the god of the sun.  During public ceremonies and festivals however, the god was invisible, and Heliogabalus would walk in front of the carriage bearing the god, which god was understood to occupy the invisible space in the seat of the carriage; thus he walked always facing the invisible sun god, while walking backward and leading the horses from in front of them, to the awe of the people.  Heliogabalus was also known for lavish feasts and sacrifices, for effecting rich altars of incense and spices, for loving chariot racing, for adopting his own cousin as his son, and for having himself declared married to a one of the Vestal Virgins, which was unheard of and forbidden up to that time, but which would seem perfectly appropriate since the Virgin could remain virginal, since there was presumably no threat of a deflowering by Heliogabalus.

            When we look to Heliogabalus as a gay hero, we are obviously anachronistic in some senses, and we certainly recognize the problems of class and exploitation inherent in past lives, and yet in many senses any anachronism inherent in the adoption of such an ancient figure as a modern gay hero is somehow oddly and disturbingly still imbued with a sense that we have ultimately lost ground as gay persons in some senses in a history that might be called, retrospectively and for the future, gay, or queer history.  This is not to deny the value of modern gay history and the rise of modern mass democratic movements such as the women’s movement, and the gay movement which grew out of it.  Quite the contrary, I and many others rightly support and draw our lifeblood, freedom, and any measure of authentic well-being we have from these movements and from modern gay identity.  And yet, we can and must, I believe, separate out at some point which elements of this history were oppressive and cannot be a part of its future. We might look first at ‘freedom of religion’, which grew up alongside and was a part of Western democratic progression, but which has really been largely the holding hostage of societies to sectarian fights among sociopathologies-cum-religions which are all anti-gay, and the upholding of the Judaic religions’ rights to abuse us and others. Heliogabalus is, among other things, the possibility of a spirituality which has nothing to do with sexual perversion defined against heteronormativity, with desire understood within the problematization of sex and sexuality, a problematization which went hand in hand with their coming into being as concepts.  Such a spirituality would refuse to traffic with the sexual sociopathy and misogyny of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and would refuse even their residuum in opinions such as that which holds that Heliogabalus’s assassination was “well deserved”. 

            Gay men have a more realistic and healthy relationship with desire than do heterosexuals, since heterosexuality itself is, as Monique Wittig said, a political regime, and it is a political regime of fear and perversion in which anything but the desperate masturbation of heteronormativity known as “society” will ultimately brook no dissent.  Gay men can have “rights” in this society as long as we keep our place, that of toeing the line of heteronormativity by acting just like heterosexuals (monogamous, dull, slavish, perpetually morose, businesslike, affectatious), or by being their sources of entertainment or amusement, or by providing for them an opportunity to play charitable and throw us such offals as “Well, I don’t think anyone should be beaten up for being gay”.  Queer, gay, lesbian desire must necessarily be dangerous and offensive to such a regime, and could never uphold it or validate it.  To the extent that our desire is dangerous, it is valid.  Here Heliogabalus gives our dreams nourishment so that they might develop into reality and he serves to “educate our desire”, which education Miguel Abensour names as the function of utopian ideas.[ii]  In this case the education is provided in the form of historical evidence of the false and forced relevance of heterosexuality to the political and to the social, and of the sad, denatured character of heteronormative desire.  The especial relationship of gay men to desire is a pillar, I would argue, of future templates for life.  The unproblematization of desire and of sexuality is our future, let me venture to say.  This centrality and elevation of desire, especially sexual desire, in the true spiritual world of gay men, has not gone unnoticed by contemporary academics, and appears for example as the special relationship to “bliss”[iii] or as the “working out of desire”[iv], and yet it has an important existence in all facets of life, its academic treatment being the activity of the theoreticians of desire.

             Happiness in the mode of gay desire has, I would posit, another element aside from that of personal elation and bliss, and that is the desire for the well-being, happinesss, and political and social equality of all.  This part of gay desire, I would argue, is not the same as disingenuous heterosexist desire for equality, which understands freedom of speech as the right to abuse others publicly and which understands equal rights as the right for everyone to be a heterosexual, in other words, as the duty to be fraudulent.  Heliogabalus is, at least in some small sense, the representation of the possibility of real democracy, and of the permanent defeat of disingenuousness and of the forcing of citizens to live the boring and desperate lies of the political regime of heterosexism and to support the quartering of sick and perverse persons by the state in its protection of religious frauds under the guise of ‘freedom of (Judaic/anti-gay) religion’.  Heliogabalus then as a gay hero represents not only the cold slap in the face to heteronormativity but also the possibility of a voluptuous democracy, one in which what is called “fabulousness” from a position of a prosaic heteronormativity is actually reality having asserted itself against the desperate frauds of heterosexual political and social regimes.   I urge us as gay persons to follow our desire into the flames, thinking of Heliogabalus all the while. Let us move forward to a voluptuous democracy. But beware!  Attempts to challenge the dull and prosaicizing existence of the heterosexual political regime might result in your “well-deserved” assassination.    





[i]  This predilection is consistent with the differences between Oriental religions and Western religions, the former of which “undertook to save the individual and ensure his happiness in a life beyond the tomb, while Greek and Roman religions aimed at securing the stability of the state.” Bury, J.B., in Hay, J. Stuart. Heliogabalus. London:  MacMillan, 1911, xxiv.
[ii] For mention in English of Abensour’s idea, see for example Nadir, Christine, ‘Utopian Studies, Environmental Literature, and the Evolution of an Idea: Educating Desire in Miguel Abensour and Ursula K. LeGuin, Utopian Studies, 21 (1), January 2010.   
[iii] Nimmons, David. ‘A Flagrant Joy: Outlaws in Search of Bliss’ in The Soul Beneath the Skin: The Unseen Hearts and Habits of Gay Men, New York:  MacMillan, 2002. 

[iv] See Cohler, Bertram, The Writing of Desire:  Sixty Years of Gay Autobiography, Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007, passim.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

On the New York Art World, or Why I am Not An Artist

 17 Thermidor 220

FADING LIGHT, DEAD SNAKES
(A Short Piece on the New York Art World, Written From My Commune in the Desert)

            Prelude:  Time is running out in the fading light – there is only perhaps less than an hour of daylight left by which to write, and now I want to write outdoors/outside – there is no comfortable place here indoors /inside to write.  The crude minds here make things uncomfortable and ugly, and seem not to know this, but it’s a little bit better still when I’m outside.
            I keep looking for snakes here in the desert, and there are almost none.  I consider snakes my protectors, spiritually and symbolically.  My inference from the fact that there have not been any lately has been that there is nothing to fear.  Yet, the last snake I saw was dead in the road.  Are my protectors fighting for me and dying, in some sense?  This snake’s dead body was facing east, and I’m about to go to the East, but dreading it. 
            What could the snake have been protecting me from – trying to protect me from? I’m not sure how to interpret the decimation of my protections, but soon the fading light will force me inside, so let me try to set forth an idea before this happens.

           
            Back in New York I’m immersed in a world of artists it seems, and they somehow both are and are not my ilk.  I emerge from this immersion in the world of desperate artists feeling alienated again, because these artists are too ignorant of the political. 
            Like the artists though, I operate in the world of the outsider, because I have integrity.  It’s funny how at the present time, with reference to anything on the outside, people fling out the label “artist”.  I cringe at the question “Are you an artist?”, and I guess that’s because I know what it indicates.  One thing that it indicates is that what is outside, what is “different”, what has integrity, and whatever does not make life prosaic, is packaged for the consumption of the common, of the dullards, of the prosaicizers, as “artist”. 
            In the realm of politics this packaging for a media audience of slaves posing as persons is the label “activist”, which neutralizes real resistance to the rule of the dull-witted yet powerful, and further distances the possibility of one’s taking on the mantle of “revolutionary”.  Most all of the artists are unaware of this packaging of “artist” as “everything which is, though not directly threatening to it, is symbolic of the rejection of  business and markets, of the status quo, for the inside”. Art and the artist are themselves packaged as outside, but still consumable and thus comprehensible insofar as they are not threatening – to be an artist in the New York mode now is to be something like a vacation for the bourgeoisie, a wonder or marvel which they consume from a safe distance while remaining exploitative and abusive cowards.   I find New York artists quite unaware of this, as when they actually believe that art alone can effect political change, but I find them even less aware though of a concomitance to this reality, and that is the conflation of art and culture.
            The artists of New York seem less and less to really know aspects of culture other than pure art, aspects such as politics, linguistics, and philosophy, so it follows that everything that is “counterculture” is easily bundled together and politically neutralized for consumption by “the gray people”, as Sandra Good called them, in its appellation as “art” and “artist”, with artists neither making any objections to this nor acting from an awareness of the broader culture.  Since the consciousness necessary to understand this packaging and neutralization itself comes in part from other elements of culture that the New York artists do not seem to really know, elements of culture such as politics and philosophy, “art” as the production of works that are traditionally called art strictly speaking is aggrandized to cover over all of culture, as if art were culture itself.  This very phenomenon, however, is possible only when one lacks a real knowledge of the full spectrum of culture and of how politically neutralized artists really are.  Artists do not control interpretation, but rather must engage with other aspects of culture (e.g. political power) in order to affect taste, interpretation, and action. The monodimensionality of the New York artist and the absurd belief that pure art alone can change the political landscape is a guarantee of political neutralization, and this neutralization of artists has happened to such a degree that,  even the most aware artists, who are few in number, and who are politically engaged beyond their artwork as is necessary, are so engaged merely as “activists” (read: harmless to the powers that be) and not as “revolutionaries” (read:  dangerous and real menaces to the powers that be).

Considering this state of affairs, since I am a revolutionary, I must now say that I am not an artist.