It's been a while since I've checked in here. I've been working and haven't found the time to sit down and scribble away to whoever it may that actually reads this. Not much has happened over the past few weeks except that I've had to knuckle down and finish a few reports. It has been tough and my favourite month of the year, January, has just disappeared. I have always loved January because it's all about the beach, Summer festivals, and fun in the sun; but this year I've barely moved from the computer. I feel robbed.
I did go to the Big Day Out on Monday. It was fantastic. Rage, Bjork, and Pnau were all fantastic fun which distracted from the dust and the heat of the afternoon in the Flemington Racecourse car park. Anyway, I'll be back again soon. I've too much to do today.
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Thursday, 10 January 2008
New perspectives
I watched an old documentary last night called The Beyond Within. It tells the story of LSD from its synthesis, to its use as a psychotherapeutic drug in British mental hospitals in the 1950s, experiments on an unwitting American population by the CIA during that same period, to its use as a recreational drug during the 1950s, and the eventual moral panic that ensued following its release on and unsupervised use by members of the general public.
What was most interesting about the film was not so much the story of the drug itself, but the philosophical and theological arguments that surround its use. There are a number of sides to the discussion. The first, represented by Ken Kesey author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, holds that the drug unlocked creative potential in humanity that would have otherwise lain dormant. Linked with this point of view is that of Timothy Leary, who saw it as a way to reclaim spiritualism in the increasingly materialistic and power-hungry society that he saw the United States as having become. Included in this general group is Aldous Huxley, who, after an experiment with mescalin, became an I believer in the expansive power of psychedelic drugs.
The documentary shows a number of experiments conducted to investigate the meaning of the experience of the drug. One, a filmed experiment that before the release of the film had not been shown to the public, showed a British MP who was required to answer a series of questions before being administered the drug. At regular intervals he was asked more questions as well as to describe elements of his surroundings. Each time he was able to complete the tasks, but said that he was unable to describe the colours of his surroundings for lack of vocabulary. Also, he was not concious of things having succession, but very concious of time. When interviewed for the film 30 years later, he explained his experience. Rather than spending a few hours sitting in his drawing room occasionally removed to a place of euphoria, he spent an infinite amount of time in another time and place. He hadn't spent a few minutes or hours in that place, but months or years, occasionally interrupted to answer a few questions in his drawing room. Interestingly, he argues that control of the drug is necessary because of the social and health problems that it is capable of causing.
This is a view shared by the discoverer of the drug, Albert Hoffman. In The Beyond Within, he points to the fact that similar substances used by other cultures, such as peyote, are always used by under the supervision of a shaman. For the modern world, he believes that the shaman is the psychotherapist, pointing to a decade of successful use during the 1950s as a therapeutic drug. However, he concedes that the youth movement of the 1960s hijacked the substance leading to its unfair demonisation at the end of that era. A similar point of view was put forth by a representative of the NHS, who tells the audience that although there are dangers to the drug, such as psychotic episodes, these usually occur as a result of the street manufactured status of the drug and that the difference between the users of the 60s and the 80s was that the former were using it to discover things about themselves and that the latter were using it as escapism. Thus part of the problem is in intention. Of course drugs can be abused. However this does not mean that they are incapable of providing the transcendental experience. Sex has been viewed in the same way. For some societies it has been a part of mysticism, and it too can be abused. One need only think of sex addiction or of the increasingly perverted material that can be sourced from the Web.
For many of those users, the experience that they described as having was termed as being 'religious' in character. This is a point of view that has been labelled invalid by philosophy professors both then and now. A study by Walter Pahnke, entitled Drugs and Mysticism showed that the experience of taking LSD was no different from that of a religious visitation. This conclusion was reached by taking a number of students studying to enter religious orders and administered either psilocybin or a placebo to them, before asking them to complete a survey of their experience after the affect of the drug had worn off. This survey was then sent to religious scholars who determined the veracity of the experience. However, the contrary argument posits that the LSD experience is bereft of the obligations and dedications of the recipient of a genuine visitation. In that case, the recipient has contributed to society and to a cause, earning the experience as part of their efforts. Consequently the visitation is contextualised as a visit from a heavenly presence. The LSD user has no such contextualisation, so even if they were in the presence of God, they would not know it.
The use of religious language is to describe an experience that is otherwise indescribable. It is symptomatic of the lack of vocabulary that we have already seen with the aforementioned filmed experiment. It is described as such because it is an experiment that is similar to that which we learn to believe as being religious. This is congruent with peyote use in Mexican Indian religious ceremony. The peyote is used to send the recipient on a spiritual journey to allow him/her a new perspective on the world.
In this way LSD can be seen as a tool for reconstructing reality. The difference between a good and bad trip is that of unsanity and insanity, of the sublime and madness. In each case we catch a glimpse of the Real. Freud, Jung, Lacan, et al. have showed us that reality is constructed and LSD allows us to tear down that construction and reassemble it in an alternate form. Hence its use as a therapeutic agent. It works by removing the natural filters that are in place between our senses and our conciousness. The overwhelming messages are uncensored reality, sight, smell, sound, taste, touch- everything is Real.
For Leary, the drug offered a chance to reshape the world, "the kids that take LSD, they're not going to become your grey-haired, whiskey-drinking generals to wage war; they're not going to become your grey-haired, whiskey-drinking CEOs who add to the materialism of society." However, as is rightly pointed out, the same problem arises here as it does with the religious experience. The very society that Leary rejected was the one that allowed him to flourish. He was tearing up Rousseau's social contract without a thought as to how society would continue to function in its aftermath. Who would run the hospitals, power plants, and produce the necessary tools to survive on a scale required by the modern world.
Aldous Huxley requested an injection of LSD on his deathbed. Before he died he wrote "Try LSD." Surely LSD is capable of providing a transcendental experience, but the same has been said of ecstasy and marijuana. Sometimes we all need a different perspective on life, the universe, and everything, but we cannot forget our obligations to others for a world. We cannot all be holy fools travelling the world with our begging bowls, because then there would be nobody to beg from.
What was most interesting about the film was not so much the story of the drug itself, but the philosophical and theological arguments that surround its use. There are a number of sides to the discussion. The first, represented by Ken Kesey author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, holds that the drug unlocked creative potential in humanity that would have otherwise lain dormant. Linked with this point of view is that of Timothy Leary, who saw it as a way to reclaim spiritualism in the increasingly materialistic and power-hungry society that he saw the United States as having become. Included in this general group is Aldous Huxley, who, after an experiment with mescalin, became an I believer in the expansive power of psychedelic drugs.
The documentary shows a number of experiments conducted to investigate the meaning of the experience of the drug. One, a filmed experiment that before the release of the film had not been shown to the public, showed a British MP who was required to answer a series of questions before being administered the drug. At regular intervals he was asked more questions as well as to describe elements of his surroundings. Each time he was able to complete the tasks, but said that he was unable to describe the colours of his surroundings for lack of vocabulary. Also, he was not concious of things having succession, but very concious of time. When interviewed for the film 30 years later, he explained his experience. Rather than spending a few hours sitting in his drawing room occasionally removed to a place of euphoria, he spent an infinite amount of time in another time and place. He hadn't spent a few minutes or hours in that place, but months or years, occasionally interrupted to answer a few questions in his drawing room. Interestingly, he argues that control of the drug is necessary because of the social and health problems that it is capable of causing.
This is a view shared by the discoverer of the drug, Albert Hoffman. In The Beyond Within, he points to the fact that similar substances used by other cultures, such as peyote, are always used by under the supervision of a shaman. For the modern world, he believes that the shaman is the psychotherapist, pointing to a decade of successful use during the 1950s as a therapeutic drug. However, he concedes that the youth movement of the 1960s hijacked the substance leading to its unfair demonisation at the end of that era. A similar point of view was put forth by a representative of the NHS, who tells the audience that although there are dangers to the drug, such as psychotic episodes, these usually occur as a result of the street manufactured status of the drug and that the difference between the users of the 60s and the 80s was that the former were using it to discover things about themselves and that the latter were using it as escapism. Thus part of the problem is in intention. Of course drugs can be abused. However this does not mean that they are incapable of providing the transcendental experience. Sex has been viewed in the same way. For some societies it has been a part of mysticism, and it too can be abused. One need only think of sex addiction or of the increasingly perverted material that can be sourced from the Web.
For many of those users, the experience that they described as having was termed as being 'religious' in character. This is a point of view that has been labelled invalid by philosophy professors both then and now. A study by Walter Pahnke, entitled Drugs and Mysticism showed that the experience of taking LSD was no different from that of a religious visitation. This conclusion was reached by taking a number of students studying to enter religious orders and administered either psilocybin or a placebo to them, before asking them to complete a survey of their experience after the affect of the drug had worn off. This survey was then sent to religious scholars who determined the veracity of the experience. However, the contrary argument posits that the LSD experience is bereft of the obligations and dedications of the recipient of a genuine visitation. In that case, the recipient has contributed to society and to a cause, earning the experience as part of their efforts. Consequently the visitation is contextualised as a visit from a heavenly presence. The LSD user has no such contextualisation, so even if they were in the presence of God, they would not know it.
The use of religious language is to describe an experience that is otherwise indescribable. It is symptomatic of the lack of vocabulary that we have already seen with the aforementioned filmed experiment. It is described as such because it is an experiment that is similar to that which we learn to believe as being religious. This is congruent with peyote use in Mexican Indian religious ceremony. The peyote is used to send the recipient on a spiritual journey to allow him/her a new perspective on the world.
In this way LSD can be seen as a tool for reconstructing reality. The difference between a good and bad trip is that of unsanity and insanity, of the sublime and madness. In each case we catch a glimpse of the Real. Freud, Jung, Lacan, et al. have showed us that reality is constructed and LSD allows us to tear down that construction and reassemble it in an alternate form. Hence its use as a therapeutic agent. It works by removing the natural filters that are in place between our senses and our conciousness. The overwhelming messages are uncensored reality, sight, smell, sound, taste, touch- everything is Real.
For Leary, the drug offered a chance to reshape the world, "the kids that take LSD, they're not going to become your grey-haired, whiskey-drinking generals to wage war; they're not going to become your grey-haired, whiskey-drinking CEOs who add to the materialism of society." However, as is rightly pointed out, the same problem arises here as it does with the religious experience. The very society that Leary rejected was the one that allowed him to flourish. He was tearing up Rousseau's social contract without a thought as to how society would continue to function in its aftermath. Who would run the hospitals, power plants, and produce the necessary tools to survive on a scale required by the modern world.
Aldous Huxley requested an injection of LSD on his deathbed. Before he died he wrote "Try LSD." Surely LSD is capable of providing a transcendental experience, but the same has been said of ecstasy and marijuana. Sometimes we all need a different perspective on life, the universe, and everything, but we cannot forget our obligations to others for a world. We cannot all be holy fools travelling the world with our begging bowls, because then there would be nobody to beg from.
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
Rethinking Ned Kelly
I've recently finished reading The True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey. In the past I have been wary of fictional works that glorify the Kelly Gang as heroes of the common man. Let's not forget that despite the romanticism, Ned and Dan Kelly, Joe Byrne, and Steve Hart were criminals. For the most part, I have been turned off this interpretation of Kelly by the unthinking idolatry of bright-eyed teenagers who get carried away with folk tales, seemingly forgetting that banks were robbed, cattle duffed, and people killed. Even Robert Drewe's Our Sunshine, which is a fantastic read itself, failed to convince me. Carey's work, although at times slips into an overly-apologetic interpretation of the actions of Kelly, has made me reassess my view.
I often forget that during the late nineteenth century, much of the colony of Victoria was frontier country. The strong civil law and government that is in place in the now state of Victoria was fledgling and, particularly in the rural areas of the High Country where the history of the Kelly Gang takes place, was dependent on the individuals who were employed to enforce them, i.e the police. Additionally, the power-holders of this outpost of the Western world were large-scale private landholders, known as squatters. The name squatter harks back to the manner in which many of them acquired their land; that is, before a regimented system of land allocation was implemented, they wandered out into the bush and claimed the land for themselves by putting up fences. For the most part, these men were not poor men- some had reserves of wealth and those who were able to retain their land had strong connections to the governments of the colonies of Victoria and New South Wales. That is not to say that life was without its hardships; building a cattle station in rural Victoria was beset by dangers including the indignant indigenous population, drought, and escaped criminals. However, once entrenched, their close connections with government and loose civil structure allowed corruption to flourish and the squatters began to take the form of a landed gentry. In contrast were the poorer free settlers and descendents of convicts. In a Land Act of the time (which name I have forgotten) they were allowed to select and purchase Crown Land, thus becoming known as selectors. However, much of the rich soil was already owned by the squatters and this particular Land Act required the selectors to grow a certain amount of grain in areas that were not suited to doing so. This is eerily similar to the disastrous grain policy that Mao Zedong implemented in 1950s China. A great many of these poorer residents were of Irish descent and therefore a conflict between the squatters and the selectors began to take on the flavour of the Irish troubles of the same century. What Carey's novel has managed to achieve is to illustrate how the conflict between the two groups, the corruption of the power-holders and the difficulties of the poorer classes helped shape the lives of Kelly and the development of the colony as a whole. It is quite marvellous.
Apart from kindling an interest in Victorian history, the book also got me thinking about how sheltered the modern urban life is. There are so many layers between our lifestyle and the most base level of existence. We have a number of systems set in place that create and protect our society, cutting us off from the survivalist nature of early humans. Many of us would not be able to survive without specialist butchers, machines, the code of laws etc. that we take for granted today. This was no more evident than it was in The True History of the Kelly Gang, wherein the ordinary people did everything for themselves, hunting, farming, building, etc. skills that very few modern people have mastered as a collection.
Similarly, in the modern world there are still frontier nations that lack these structures such as East Timor and Papua New Guinea. The difficulty that these nations have had in setting up these required civil institutions demonstrate the hard work and genius of men like Sir Redmond Barry who were required to enforce the law and ensure the survival of these institutions. This is where other works fall down. In Carey's work a judge is written as apologising for the sentence that he is required to give by law and one feels that he is doing so because despite the individual suffering of the receiver of the sentence, it is necessary for the good of the colony.
Despite my initial apprehension, The True History of the Kelly Gang has become one of my favourite reads.
I often forget that during the late nineteenth century, much of the colony of Victoria was frontier country. The strong civil law and government that is in place in the now state of Victoria was fledgling and, particularly in the rural areas of the High Country where the history of the Kelly Gang takes place, was dependent on the individuals who were employed to enforce them, i.e the police. Additionally, the power-holders of this outpost of the Western world were large-scale private landholders, known as squatters. The name squatter harks back to the manner in which many of them acquired their land; that is, before a regimented system of land allocation was implemented, they wandered out into the bush and claimed the land for themselves by putting up fences. For the most part, these men were not poor men- some had reserves of wealth and those who were able to retain their land had strong connections to the governments of the colonies of Victoria and New South Wales. That is not to say that life was without its hardships; building a cattle station in rural Victoria was beset by dangers including the indignant indigenous population, drought, and escaped criminals. However, once entrenched, their close connections with government and loose civil structure allowed corruption to flourish and the squatters began to take the form of a landed gentry. In contrast were the poorer free settlers and descendents of convicts. In a Land Act of the time (which name I have forgotten) they were allowed to select and purchase Crown Land, thus becoming known as selectors. However, much of the rich soil was already owned by the squatters and this particular Land Act required the selectors to grow a certain amount of grain in areas that were not suited to doing so. This is eerily similar to the disastrous grain policy that Mao Zedong implemented in 1950s China. A great many of these poorer residents were of Irish descent and therefore a conflict between the squatters and the selectors began to take on the flavour of the Irish troubles of the same century. What Carey's novel has managed to achieve is to illustrate how the conflict between the two groups, the corruption of the power-holders and the difficulties of the poorer classes helped shape the lives of Kelly and the development of the colony as a whole. It is quite marvellous.
Apart from kindling an interest in Victorian history, the book also got me thinking about how sheltered the modern urban life is. There are so many layers between our lifestyle and the most base level of existence. We have a number of systems set in place that create and protect our society, cutting us off from the survivalist nature of early humans. Many of us would not be able to survive without specialist butchers, machines, the code of laws etc. that we take for granted today. This was no more evident than it was in The True History of the Kelly Gang, wherein the ordinary people did everything for themselves, hunting, farming, building, etc. skills that very few modern people have mastered as a collection.
Similarly, in the modern world there are still frontier nations that lack these structures such as East Timor and Papua New Guinea. The difficulty that these nations have had in setting up these required civil institutions demonstrate the hard work and genius of men like Sir Redmond Barry who were required to enforce the law and ensure the survival of these institutions. This is where other works fall down. In Carey's work a judge is written as apologising for the sentence that he is required to give by law and one feels that he is doing so because despite the individual suffering of the receiver of the sentence, it is necessary for the good of the colony.
Despite my initial apprehension, The True History of the Kelly Gang has become one of my favourite reads.
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