JFK, the good, the bad, and the end of the ugly in modern politics

I always find Andrew Marr's programmes excellent, and JFK, the making of modern history was no exception. The focus of the programme was how Kennedy's election campaign marked a change in US (and world) political campaigning, and was perhaps the start of the dominance of spin in elections, where the marketing became as important, if not more so, than the message.

While I don't have too much detailed knowledge of JFK, overall I have a favourable impression of him, based on my understanding that he was an inspiring leader (his speeches are famous to this day), and the fact that while I don't think of him having being particularly successful in the domestic arena (no progress on civil rights I think), I know he definitely had some achievements in foreign affairs; in fact given the severity and complexity of things like the Cuban missile crisis, this alone would make him one of the more important presidents.

What I didn't realise though, was how thin on substance he seems to have been before coming to that office, or how much his 'celebrity' style played a part in winning it for him, and the consequences of this road to success. Furthermore he might not have even been the most suitable option the democrats had at the time. Since generally only the final two opposing combatants in a US election are remembered by the world at large, what is often forgotten is the fight within each party to choose its single representative. Since the elections themselves are often a grand battle between left and right for a swinging middle, they are probably less nuanced than the primary contests that precede them, in which different types of characters compete for the right to represent the same overall message, but in different ways. Indeed, if the general mood in a country is a major (if not dominant) force as to which way (leftish or rightish) it swings in that particular year, then what is also telling, or at least not unimportant, is how these primaries were resolved. For example if the democrats were well placed anyway to regain power, then what is more at issue is not that a democrat becomes president, but what kind of democrat, since he/she would shape their political message and destiny for the near future.

So it was fascinating to learn that Kennedy's main rival for the candidacy (Hubert Humphrey) was a very respected and principled politician, and that he was in effect steamrolled out of the way by the wealth and resources of the Kennedy machine.  Kennedy relied more on style than substance, wowing the electorate with his rock star like charisma and panache, while in parallel the cynical usage of smears, dirty tricks, manipulation helped to wipe out a solid, decent politician. None of this sounds surprising, since such dynamics and tactics are (regrettably) assumed to be part and parcel of campaigning, until it becomes clear that this was probably the first election in which they really played a major, and transformational, role.
Indeed it wasn't only Humphrey who was caught unawares by this approach, it also worked effectively against the republican candidate, Nixon, illustrated perfectly by the TV debate fiasco, which was thought of as a win for the radiant Kennedy by people who had seen Nixon's sweaty and (literally) sickly appearance  on TV, even though those who had only listened on radio thought Nixon had performed much better.

Here was known principles (Humphreys) and experience (Nixon, current vice-president) being shunned in favour of a captivating image, something which is even more striking given that this was a time when cold war was heating up, and the possibility of global annihilation was a real threat, and one would have thought serious times called for a serious candidate.

But maybe it was precisely such a sombre time of doom and gloom that was actually most suited to the positive qualities that Kennedy brought to politics. He wasn't presenting deeds and policies, he was offering a lifestyle, an inspirational soaring dream to aspire too, and maybe this is what was really needed (within reason of course on the final pragmatic political front!). It is no coincidence that this era, the 60s was also a time of growing movements which struggled to shrug off the boring (and worse) shackles of life in the 50s, the hippie movement, civil rights, and above all, consumerism.  Kennedy probably was both a beneficiary and a driver of this changing, more active, worldview, and it does have some things to be said for it. Above all, he got people interested in politics, and even inspired them to be involved in their country. After the world war it is understandable that people relied on stable politicans, or even ex-generals, but now times were moving on, and it was important that they the people were once more involved, and Kennedy's soaring rhetoric, and indeed his style, helped with that.

But, it can't be denied that there is a dark underbelly. Even Kennedy himself was not only disingenuous in his campaign (criticizing the administration for letting the US fall behind in the arms race with the Soviet Union when he himself had seen classified information that this was not true) but even lied outright (about his health, denying he was suffering from a disease which records show he actually had); and unfortunately while it is of course a great thing to get more people involved in an election, the sad reality is that the manner in which that interest is whipped up means many, if not most, of them are likely to be more swayed by the propaganda than the programme. If it's all in the packaging, the more expensive wrapping paper wins the day, and this opens the door to well resourced, connected, and funded interests to gain control.

But is there any other choice? It's all very well to point out the dangers of an uninformed 'mob', but at the end of the day democracy is just exactly what is wanted by the biggest mob, informed or not. The only benign alternative is patronising elitism, which is also susceptible to manipulation by those with resources.  At least in the former case, where everyone is involved, then everything is out in the open, and even if things go wrong temporarily, this transparency allows for self-correction, something which can't happen if the business of politics is handled only by those 'who know best'. You can't fool all of the people all of the time, and tt is this openness, feedback and ability for correction which makes democracy the best of a bad lot. It's not perfect, but it can improve, and this is what matters most.

So, Kennedy's legacy is a double edged sword; he ushered in a new era of politics whereby style mattered as much as substance, but it was this style which brought passion and enthusiasm back in. What is (as always) needed is a system of checks and balances, such that no one surge of style can completely derail the overall project. A charismatic leader is good, but only in conjunction with a solid parlimentary system where the people at the day to day level feel connected to politics, even if the head of the chain is a celebrity removed almost from the real world. Unfortunately I'm not sure the role of the US president, especially with his/her discretion when it comes to foreign policy, fully fits that description. However, it must be said that it is rare that the situation is as serious as it was when JFK took power, and he did ok, so it seems even being a celebrity is not a barrier to being a politician as well.

Did George Lucas rape our childhood?

Far from just being of interest to children of Star Wars like myself, the documentary "The People Vs. George Lucas"  (youtube trailer here) raised some interesting questions about the ownership and identity of art, once it becomes part of popular culture.

The original Star Wars movies, especially the first, are widely acknowledged as an important part of modern culture, informing the dreams and dispositions of a significant segment of a generation. Even though not everyone might have been as awestruck and adoring as some were (including myself) the sheer fact that so many were affected in this way shows their iconic nature. More than just mere entertainment, the affection the saga inspires in all that experience it, and the fanatical devotion it elicits in some, shows that it qualifies as a modern 'myth', more a vision than just a story, a worldview which resonates deeply with a culture. Story telling is a fundamental part of human nature and history, and the most important stories have long been the means by which societies passed their heritage down through the ages; furthermore, these stories often capture a morality, an outlook,which makes them more than mere entertainment, and this is something which has can result in a deep emotional connection; indeed it is probably no coincidence that most major religions have some form of narrative tale at their core, since this is the way to captivate mankind's heart. This is how art can become entwined with culture, and the way Star Wars became thus entwined, makes it I think, indeed a real kind of art.

However, there was a problem. The original movies, although groundbreaking technologically for their time, were still restrained by what was actually possible, both financially and technically, and it seems that Lucas felt he had only realized part of what his full vision was. This part was however enough to blow the minds of a generation, and falling in love with it, they loved it as true love should, for what it actually was, not for what it might also be.

Unfortunately the very thing that made Star Wars great, its use of special effects and post production processing, and the fact that it consisted of unreal elements, meant that as technology improved, these effects and elements were open to further seamless manipulation; what is not real, can be easily replaced. Thus Lucas released new, digitally remastered versions of the movies, with various modifications which were in his view improvements, and which made it, as he says, as it should have been. If these new versions were merely extra interpretations (as for example one can watch various versions of Blade Runner, or even ET) it would be one thing, but Lucas took advantage of the fact that movies were transitioning to new media - DVD - to actually replace the old versions, even going so far as to claim that the original prints were damaged during the updates, and no longer existed. It's almost reminiscent of the Stalin's airbrushing of Trotsky from history, but when we feel the wave of indignant emotion were are forced to admit how different the situation is. Stalin was trying to rewrite the history of what others had done, Lucas was only trying to adjust what he had created, and surely that was his right?

The problem was, so many people had taken the originals to heart, his creations now part of their cherished childhood memories, and through their formative influence, even in a way, part of them. And suddenly they found these memories, these references, these parts of their selves, being changed, and it is not surprising they didn't like it. This is why some even go as far to claim (albeit tongue in cheek) that George Lucas 'raped' their childhood - in trying to rewrite something so integral to their youth, he was in a way abusing and violating it. They wanted to be able to relive, re-experience what they loved, but now it was all different. Of course most normal people might not notice the changes, a scene cut here , a new alien waddling in the background there, but the people who really cared, and there were a lot of them, did notice. I guess it would be like returning to a wood where one played as a child, to find an old beloved tree house renovated and modernized. It might be 'better', but it would be different, and what it was somehow destroyed, and that at some level really matters.

But is the anger justified? Does the artist always retain ultimate ownership? I think not, and for two different kinds of reasons. Firstly and most basically, he only had the resources to continue making the movies, and ironically remake them, because of the support of the fans. So while he doesn't strictly owe them anything as such ( they were free to pay for the merchandise) one could argue that it would at the very least be antisocial to take back what he had given them, once he has gained out of it. Secondly, it is a fact that the movies became bigger than what they were when he created them; they took on a life of their own in popular culture, and this is again down to the fans, not to him. He provided the spark, but others piled on the fuel, and the resulting fire became part of the culture, and hence he loses the right to extinguish it. The point here is that he seems to be trying to replace the originals, not just rework them into something new. This is the fundamental problem. While fans might take issue with what he is doing in his new movies and be horrified at the prequels that followed, they really don't have the right to complain about this if it is just new work. They are disappointed to see what they love not grow as they would have liked, but they are the fools to have fallen in love in such an expectant manner. This is one sided infatuation, and they have no right to dictate to their beloved. But their relationship with the originals were two sided, a partnership between art and culture, and Lucas has I think no moral right to destroy this. He gave his dream to the world, and it dreamed it with him, and he should not be allowed to take it back.

There is also another interesting facet to this argument, where the question becomes not just whether an artist be allowed to later improve his art, but whether he or she can also retract it.  In the Star Wars controversy there is particularly heated debate about the modification of one scene, and the argument can be labelled 'Han shot first'. Even in the original 3 movies the character of Han Solo developed significantly, from a selfish smuggler,  to opportunistic mercenary, and finally to a fully signed up member of the rebellion. In a movie dealing so much with concepts of good and evil, he is still a very neutral character initially, not 'bad' as such, but living on the edge of the law, and doing what needs to be done. This is nicely captured in his first scene in the saga, when he encounters a bounty hunter who wants to deliver him to what sounds like a nasty end. The conversation shows that the wrath he faces is unjustified (it's not like he ripped anyone off) so it is perfectly fitting that with a gun being waved in his face, he shoots the bounty hunter, albeit before walking nonchalantly off. Strangely, in the later movies, Lucas has (rather clumsily) manipulated the scene to have the bounty hunter shoot first. Apart from the ludicrous nature of the result, a trained bounty hunter misses a target from point blank range, the purpose of the change is clear, Solo only fires back in response to an immediate attempt on his life. Lucas here is obviously not just trying to represent the themes more vividly, but change the themes, by changing the morality, the nature, of the characters.

This raises the fascinating question - can an artist do this? Obviously this is more than just creating what he always wanted, but wanting later to create something else. Maybe the Lucas of the 1990s is more mature than that of the 1970s, maybe more sensitive, and maybe now finds his original idea too brutal. Maybe now as a father, he wants to sanitize the rougher vision of the world that he had when he was young. But should an artist be allowed do this? I think not, at least not in so far as to wipe out the original, and not just produce additions to it. Think of a philosopher who writes an influential treatise, and then tries to have it erased, removing books from libraries and changing later editions. In a way of course this always happened, but the point is in the modern digital age this can be done so much more effectively. In his book 'Delete' Victor Mayer-Schoenberger worries that the growth of digital memory will conflict with our own biological recollections, and here is a wonderful example of that, and a disturbing one, since it involves the changing of those memories.

Again,while one may be inclined to accord ultimate ownership to the artist, I think this ignores an important fact - that creating art inherently involves giving it away; if an artist never reveals his painting, or a writer never publishes her book, then maybe they retain this ownership (though an interesting argument could be had over private notes left behind), but if they actually present that work to the world, and ask it to look, to judge, to react, then through this they relinquish some rights. The world for its part however needs also to remember not to define the artist by what he or she has done, to allow them to do something else, to allow them to change if they want. The deal however must be, we won't deny artists their future, but they must not deny us our past.

So while George Lucas certainly didn't rape our childhood, he is messing with it, and he shouldn't. He has to accept that it is part of life that even though we may regret our actions, we cannot deny them. Even if we shot first.

angry young man

It's been years since I listened to Bill Hicks, so had forgotten about him until I saw a recent movie about his life :   American - the Bill Hicks story.  Having said recently (in my post on L. Frank Baum) that I generally don't find biographies interesting, I'm now repeatedly being proved wrong. Maybe I'll become a 'people person' someday after all!

What was interesting about this particular documentary was that it was made as (what I've googled and found out to be called) a 'photo-animated' feature. Basically to illustrate events without the aid of video footage, the producers overlaid cutouts from photographs onto appropriate scenes and animations. So for a story about how as kids Bill and his buddies had driven into town in a camper van, there was an animation of said van burning along a road, with the cutout faces of the boys leaning out the windows. It may sound a bit tacky and Monty Pythonish, but it actually worked very well, not only providing a nice visual backdrop to the narration, but also allowing for underlying themes to be brought out via the drawings.

Probably because I listened to his stuff last when I was young and fired up myself, I remembered Hicks's comedy mainly for its acerbic wit and unconventialism. He was stuck in my mind as an angry rebel, not least because of his frank admission of drug and alcohol abuse, and this tapped into my mood at the time -  impatient to find answers in the world, and scornful of the accepted ones. Knowing that he had had his vices, and also had died young, I admit I had an image of him which was too dominated by these facts, not least that I assumed they were related. This seemed to be confirmed as the story got to his dark phase, showing not just how he had dived headlong into the wild and rough life, but how it had seemed to prove beneficially catharthic for him, allowing him to really break completely free from convention and find what was to be his unique groove. Being under the impression that this was the final stage of his life, and that he had simply self combusted in a blaze of fame and pharmaceuticals like so many before him, I have to admit at this point while I still was impressed with the guy, I was slightly scornufl. I guess my thoughts were that its all well and good having this crazy phase, but no one can live like that forever, and what I'm always interested in is how great people handle the mundane times, as well as the mad ones; to be able to say something about real life, they have to live it too. But soon I realised I had wronged him, as the movie went on to detail not only how he had kicked his worst habits, but also how he had realised (and gone on to prove with his continued success) that although they might have once been what was needed to liberate him, he no longer needed them and in fact they were holding him back. Given his formative relationship with these things, and how young he still was, this I found a very impressive insight. Often it's so easy for such young talent to be too entwined with this kind of lifestyle, and its rare to see it truly break free, probably because it so often kills them before they even have the chance, (and we never do find out which is the dancer, and which the dance).

But with all due respect, Hicks didn't follow this path, and manage to keep his style, without the substances. Which makes it then so tragically ironic that he died young anyway, snuffed out by pancreatic cancer, something which, no matter how prejudiced one might be inclined to be, I don't think can be linked to his lifestyle (it's an odd coincidence that the day after I watched this Steve Jobs, died of the same condition).

There were two other things that hit me from this movie. One was from seeing the clips of his early teenage sketches juxtaposed with his later adult stage work; you could see the same look in those eyes, the same expressions, albeit padded out with age, and it was thought provoking to see the same person show through despite the long duration. There's a way in which we die many times in our lives, as our former selves fall by the wayside, so it's good to see examples of how the underlying personality can still live on.  The other was how he seemed to always have a healthy and strong bond to his family, despite using them a source of comedy, and being notably different from them (they seemed to be quite fundamentalist, but in way seemed almost to treat it like Woody Allen sometimes protrayed being Jewish : it was a cultural lifestyle rather than an actual belief; religion first, and meh, maybe God later). He was a bit of a rebel, but he was kicking against the world, not against them as such, and his abrasive wit wasn't an outpouring of bitterness or resentment, it was just taking no shit from this world, nothing personal. This 'normal' side of him was brought into extreme focus in how he ended his life, spending his last days alone with his family and friends. A long way from a bathtub in Paris which is the sort of final scene I had always had in my head. This normality I think imbues him I think with a seriousness that would otherwise have been lacking; with it in mind, he can't be dismissed or ignored as some simple maverick outside the fold. He was very much in society, and acknowledged and appreciated its better parts, even as he castigated the rest.

But even still, he did die young, and it is worth wondering how his style would have developed. Would he have continued, do any of them? I think I read once that mathematicians peak in their early 30s, and wonder if the Hicks style of comedy, would also have followed such an arc. It's hard to push the envelope for ever, since one can only be surprised with the world when one hasn't been in it that long.

Is that really the case? Does habituation settle in as we settle down? Is it just the young who are angry with the absurdity of the world? Is it only the young, like Hicks was, who can produce such vivacious vitriol, and, on the otherside of the lights or screen, only we when we're young who have the stomach to consume it? What happens us when we get older? Did we find the answers we were shouting for? Or have we just given up looking?  I guess roles and responsibilities come to dominate our lives, and there's just less time to tut and think about how the world should be, since we're so busy dealing with how it actually is. Would Hicks have mellowed out if he'd lived to an older age? It's an interesting question, and one I have to wonder about when I realise I'm older now than he ever reached. 

At the very least, watching this documentary about a man who broke the mould in many ways,reminds me how easy it is to become stuck in the 'feathered rut' . We need to occasionally pinch and remind ourselves that we don't need to placidly accept the world as it is, become inured to its what's bad in man or good in nature, or the absurdity of both. Not that that the settled mature life isn't fine place to be, but it's always good to remember that even if not in the gutter, we still should keep on looking at the stars. And shake our fist at them the odd time too.  And be grateful for the likes of Bill Hicks, who even when gone from this world, can jolt us out of it.