Flex and Spex for an October Afternoon
Reflections and Speculations on Arts and Literature
Okay. Kafka did throw me off for a bit. I hadn’t spent much time thinking about “A Hunger Artist,” given my preoccupation with Tolstoy, whose work I truly enjoyed. I had read The Metamorphosis awhile ago, and though I enjoyed and appreciated…shall we say…its form — i.e., Kafka’s style--I couldn’t and still can’t appreciate it as literature. On the one hand, Kafka does manage to capture a particular historical moment quite well — the breakdown of middle-class life and its mores; but on the other, his manner of depicting this moment is de rigueur in its attack on the family. I think “A Hunger Artist” can be faulted for much the same reason. For not only does Kafka highlight the absurdity of the art market and the absurd existence of the artist, he also takes shots at the once-again phantom public, i.e. the middle class (for Kafka), who in his mind appreciates art only for its spectacular value. Kafka, like Socrates, and unlike Tolstoy or Ion, wants his readers to question tradition, to witness its absurd repercussions. Certainly, there is much to criticize the bourgeoisie for; like giving birth to capitalism and abetting the rise of market society. Nonetheless, one can’t help but be reminded of the rather facile slaps that contemporary artists take at capitalism today. What both these artists and Kafka have failed to appreciate is the role that capitalism played in “freeing” the individual. Moreover, what neither want to admit is that the same “philistine” that both inveigh against is the same person who reads or buys their book/art. And as one fellow artist--in this case, a musician and songwriter named Bob Geldoff--once noted, “You never bite the hand that feeds.”
Oddly enough, “Ion” sort of embodies all that I like about Socrates, as well as everything I hate. On the hand, the man was a rebel, a “gadfly,” as he once said of himself. And being one myself, I can respect that aspect of him as a person: He was compelled to rebel by virtue of the principles he adhered to. On the other hand, however, Socrates’s rebellion proved to be, in effect, suicidal. He was put to death for his transgressions, a fate he willingly accepted. For not only was Socrates bound to his principles, but he was bound to the laws of the polis. He had recognized early on that what he preached and taught went against the grain of Greek doctrine; yet he continued. And as admirable as these actions might be, they reflect at least in part not only changes occurring in Greek society at the time, but also how Socrates indeed embodied an idea whose time had not yet come. “Ion,” it seems to me, illustrates this in rather poignant fashion.
Socrates in his own way straddles the ancient world and the wellsprings of the modern era. His respect for the laws of the polis--in essence, Greek tradition (see Montesquieu on “the spirit of the laws”) — establishes one leg in the ancient world; while the assertion of his individuality clearly puts his other leg in the modern. His teachings put him at odds with the polis, yet since his identity is derived from the polis, it could be said that Socrates was merely giving his fellow citizens a glimpse of the future. But as he was to discover, they were not ready for that peek. Thus, it could be said that Socrates was a medium for the future, embodying the dialectic of history. Ion, on the contrary, was a medium of the past, with his art being the transmission of tradition. It is no wonder, then, that both men seemed to be talking past one another. Socrates, of course, expected as much, while Ion played the fool. And I suppose this last morsel says quite a bit about Plato, who, in making Ion the fool, sides with Socrates and against tradition. “The Republic” seems to echo this sentiment, although it could be argued that a man like Socrates would have no existence in a hypothetical state as such.
I think the issue of artistic genius or originality is also raised in “Ion.” Is Ion--the medium — the artist? Or is Homer? A structuralist analysis renders this question virtually impossible to answer. For even though Homer penned his plays, he, too, was in effect a medium of tradition; the ideas for his plays having not fallen from the sky. Ion is thus a medium of a medium. What distinguishes Homer, of course, is the manner in which Greek tradition is conveyed by him. He was the author of the plays; Ion was not. Thus, I would argue that while technically speaking both men could be viewed as or considered artists, Homer’s position vis-a-vis the origins of tradition makes his contribution more valuable.
Tolstoy’s interest in tackling these complicated issues appealed to me. I’ve been bothered by the “anything goes” approach to art for years; so Tolstoy’s painstaking elaboration of standards was strongly appreciated.
I also believe that the religious connotations that he attaches to art are important, for they inject content into the medium that art is. And of course that injection provides us with standards to work with thereafter. We then are equipped with criteria to judge art.
Tolstoy is a Hegelian in his philosophical approach to aesthetics. Thus, each age has its own criteria, and that criteria never leapfrogs its era. That way the aesthetics of an age remain in sync with the spirit (Geist) of that age. “Good” art reflects that spirit; “bad” or counterfeit art fails to do so.
In the end, Tolstoy’s pacifism gets the best of his aesthetic theory, however. He ignores how cultures differ--how their religious traditions may differ. One culture’s traditions, in fact, may be at odds with another’s. Hegel’s logic leads Tolstoy to embrace the notion of “the brotherhood of man” but without appreciating its implications. The unifying spirit that lurks behind the concept is also a leveling spirit, which in our day means the degradation, co-optation and commodification of culture. Naturally, concepts/developments were far beyond Tolstoy’s purview; but it is still possible to utilize Tolstoy’s methodology, as long as one accepts the fact that not all of the earth’s inhabitants are Christian, and the majority care not to be. The upshot of that suggestion, however, is that the brotherhood may need to be rethought, especially if that brotherhood is said to be the United Nations. Thanks, but no thanks. If peace means one-world government, led by multinational corporations and their toadies in each country of the world, give me war.
