Tuesday, 9 February 2016

Jack Donovan’s The Way of Men

Jack Donovan is famous for the idea that men should operate in gangs, and for being gay while saying so. He should be famous for the distinction between "being a good man” and “being good at being a man”, because that is worthy of J L Austin himself, and for his identification of the four tactical virtues: strength, courage, mastery and honour.
Being a good man has to do with ideas about morality, ethics, religion, and behaving productively within a given civilisational structure… Being good at being a man is about…showing other men that you are the kind of guy they’d want on their team if the shit hits the fan… [demonstrating] strength, courage, mastery [and] commitment… A man who is more concerned with being a good man than with being good at being a man makes a very well-behaved slave.
What Donovan gets is that men want the good opinion and recognition of other men because only other men know what was involved, intellectually, personally and physically, in our achievement. Women’s opinions don’t count because women don’t care about the things that men care about: strength, courage, mastery and honour. Men don’t really care about their supervisor’s opinion of them because their supervisor doesn’t give a damn about anything but how well we fit in to the machine. (Tactically the opinions of supervisors and women matter, because life is easier if neither are bitching all the time, but one wouldn’t want to base one’s entire life around keeping the wife and boss happy. Would you?)

What makes Donovan’s book refreshing is that he doesn’t blame feminism. Women only appear as sirens inviting men to wreck themselves on the rocks of all things soft and compromised. There’s a reason for that we’ve already mentioned.

His villain is modern technology and the post-industrial economy and society that it creates. This has removed most of the chances that men have to acquire and exercise the four tactical virtues: strength, courage, mastery and honour. Processes and mechanisation has removed the need for Mastery from all but a handful of mostly intellectual roles. Power steering means women can drive buses, so that Strength isn’t needed. An astonishing level of public safety and policing means that we can withdraw large sums of money from machines in the middle of the night on busy roads without a thought of being mugged - there goes Courage. The whole idea of Honour from one’s fellow man is a joke when equal opportunity legislation means he turns out to be a woman.

However, while this is the right criminal, it’s the wrong crime. Being good at being a man can’t depend on a particular mode of the economy or the exact arrangements in society. A man can have strength, courage, mastery and honour in most economies and societies - but it will look different in each one, and perhaps each may regard the others’ as un-manly.

Men aren’t compromised by feminism, or post-industrial society, or the Health and Safety at Work Act. Some are compromised by marriage, children and the need to earn a living. They may not always have been physically soft. Modern entertainment technology, plus the commuting that scatters workers to the four quarters at the end of the day, has probably lead to fewer chances for men to spend time with each other socially. But some men have always skived and tried to cheat each other: that’s why we have all the commercial law we have now. If bakers had never adulterated flour with chalk, I might have believed in a Golden Age of Manly Virtue, but they did and I don’t. There is no “crisis of manhood”, it’s always been this way, only the costumes change.

Acquiring and living the four tactical virtues is a personal project that a man pursues despite the economy he works in, the society he lives in, and the men he knows. He cannot suppose that the men around him want to be virtuous, nor that the society values virtue, nor that it will be rewarded. A man chooses to work towards being good at being a man because he cannot live as a compromised person. And it has always been this way.

Donovan does not think that men in post-modern Capitalism will ever act as a united political force. I agree. That leaves personal action, which always feels a little bathetic after some high-grade, wide-ranging social analysis.

What does a man do when he wants to become better at being a man? Donovan’s answer is to “start a gang”. Not as in the Sons of Anarchy, but as in a bunch of like-minded guys to do stuff with.
You need to learn how to read each other and work together as a group. Go to the shooting range. Go hunting. Play paintball. Go to the gym. Take martial arts classes. Join a sports team. Take a workshop. Learn a useful skill. Get off your asses and do something. In harder times, the men that you do these kinds of things with are going to be the first men you call. They will be your gang. They will be your us.
Errr, no. That’s not quite enough.

When you are on the end of a wrongful dismissal, you need a union or an employment lawyer, preferably one who knows some journalists. You need a criminal lawyer with a flair for publicity to handle that false rape accusation. When the pipes burst, you need a plumber, and when you break a bone, you need a surgeon. Your gang is unlikely to include one, and certainly won’t include all, of the specialists you need. You need huge amounts of personal fortitude to sustain the campaign, and your buddies can’t help you with that, beyond a few platitudes. Because you’re going to need a lot of cash or the ability to live on very little - and your buddies won’t help you with that. They are regular guys with regular jobs like you. Dealing with misfortune in post-modern capitalism isn’t like defending the village from raiders or saving the animals from a flood. When bad things happen in post-modern capitalism, you have to get to Krasnoyarsk with the kindness of strangers. And once you get back from Krasnoyarsk, you might hang out with the guys again, but they won’t be your gang. They will be a bunch of guys you shoot the breeze (or the paintball) with, but who, when the shit hit your fan, were no more help than some guy on the pavement last week.

That’s the difference between the mythical life of the savannah tribe and post-modern capitalism. In post-modern capitalism, each man needs his own Rolodex of useful contacts, from plumbers to employment lawyers, electricians to employment agents. He needs the time and skills to keep these contacts fresh, and any businessman will tell you that doing that can take a week or more from your month. He needs to have something useful to trade with these contacts: he needs to be in their Rolodexes. The principle is the same - he needs to demonstrate he can be useful to those other men - but the camaraderie will be missing.

Few people have those social skills. Which is why we had the Yellow Pages, and have Google now. Building that kind of Rolodex takes a long time the moment you live in a town much larger than about five thousand people. So let’s add “the social skills needed to build and maintain a rolodex” (I’m trying to avoid the n-word) to the list of tactical virtues, though it’s not one Aristotle would have recognised. His towns were small enough that “everyone” knew each other.

The Way of Men is one of the better books on masculinity today. But it still doesn’t understand just how corrosive post-modern capitalism is, and how it turns everything to its advantage.

Heck. Even Jack’s selling merchandise.

Thursday, 4 February 2016

£15 for a Korean Martial Arts Film at the Curzon Bloomsbury? My Inner Pricing Manager is Offended

I went to see The Assassin at the Curzon Bloomsbury (or “The Renoir” if you’re old-school) the other Saturday. The 11:00 AM showing. In the Minema screening room.


It cost £15.

It’s a good film. There were quite a few people there - for a Korean martial arts film showing at the Renoir. And get they must have spent a LOT of money on the Takero Shimazaki-designed overhaul of the cinema, of which this is a sample.

But £15?

When the DVD, which will come out in six months at the most, will cost about £8 in the Covent Garden branch of Fopp?

I paid £20 to see the Star Wars movie at the Odeon Leicester Square, and I was happy to do that because some films need to be seen on a BIG screen. The Curzon Bloomsbury does not have a big screen, though it does have more comfortable seats. I think the Minema screening room is not a lot bigger than my back room, and I live in a small terraced house.

My inner pricing manager is offended. I’m not sure what I think would be a good price. The Prince Charles charges £11. That feels about right, as they have refurbished the Prince Charles as well. I think I paid about £12 to see The Big Short at the Cineworld Haymarket the Saturday before that. I know the Curzon want me to sign up as a member, when I will get two free tickets and “reduced” rates. Except those “reduced” rates are the standard rates, and the walk-in price I paid was a premium rate. The annual membership (for me) is £45, less £30 for the free tickets, which is £15, and I think the discount isn’t as much as £3. I would need to see six films a year before I broke even on that one, which is just about possible.

It ain’t cheap to go to the movies no more. And I’m not sure the movies they’re showing are worth that kind of money. Maybe having Rohmer, Robbe-Grillet and Godard on DVD does spoil one. 

Maybe I need to go to the ICA more. After all, they show more or less the same films as the Curzon chain. But this week it’s only showing The Assassin at 16:00, and that’s when I leave the office over in the City. So maybe not the ICA then. While I’m still working.

Thursday, 28 January 2016

John Bodi - Death by a Thousand Sluts 

While I’m talking about books you should read, this is the first book for quite a while that I read in one sitting. Do not read this if you are female - you simply won’t understand it. Do not read it if you have never had a bad week in your life, because you won’t understand it either.



And when you get to the end, you might realise that Bodi’s real achievement is that, throughout the depressions, crises and breakdowns, not once does he turn to the doctor and ask for some anti-depressants. He never doubts that his troubles and inner chaos can be sorted out without drugs and by action. I’ve had some bad moments, but none as bad as some of the ones Bodi describes. And his insights into people and his descriptions of the London Day Game scene are worth every penny.

Just not if you’re a girl of either sex.

Monday, 25 January 2016

The Scarfolk book really is weird, and it’s the illustrations that are most weird.

I am alive really, it’s just that I’m not taking any photographs and the stuff I’m thinking about is stuff I’ve thought about before and I don’t want to go on about the same things in public.

So instead… read this...



I saw it a while ago in Foyles, found it intriguing, bought it and only now have been in the mood to read it.

It took me a long time to realise that you should always buy a book you want to read, even if you can’t read it right away, because it might not be available in six month’s time when you’re in the mood again. This is especially applies to art books that accompany exhibitions, and art books generally. The really good ones don’t get remaindered, though you may be able to get them cheaper on Amazon. Support your local bookstore however (in my case, that’s Foyles).

The Scarfolk book really is weird, and it’s the illustrations that are most weird. Someone went to a ton of trouble to do those and there are lot of them.

Friday, 22 January 2016

Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, his book about his early years in Paris, which seemed to be on every counter and table in Waterstone's Piccadilly branch last week.

We would have to shut the windows in the night against the rain and the cold wind would strip the leaves from the trees in the Place Contrescape. The leaves lay sodden in the rain and the wind drove the rain against the big green autobus at the terminal and the Cafe des Amateurs was crowded and the windows misted over from the heat and the smoke inside.
That is on the opening page of the stories in Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, his book about his early years in Paris, which seemed to be on every counter and table in Waterstone's Piccadilly branch last week.

I discovered Hemingway very late. And when I did I nearly gave up writing anything in English again except for business writing because that has to be bad and clumsy to be effective. I thought, based on rumour and hearsay, that Hemingway was merely a stylist. He isn't: he is simply one of the best experimental writers of English there has ever been. Those two sentences pick out maybe a dozen images from a winter evening and knit them together like one smooth Vincente Minelli crane shot.

Masterly.

Tuesday, 19 January 2016

It’s cold. I’m trying to get over seven hour’s sleep a day

It’s cold. I’m trying to get over seven hour’s sleep a day. I’m wading my way through Nessa Carey’s The Epigenetics Revolution and getting lost in proteins called things like WNKR3 and a description of gene expression modification that sounds like some really kludgey patches to some gigantic corporate Java program.

The Economist had an editorial about Cologne and immigration that was mid-boggling in its sophistry and I don’t even want to get into it. It says:
Thousands more refugees arrive in Greece every week. Those who would shut them out must explain where they should go instead.
Uh. How about they stay where they are and fight for their freedom? Or go to another Muslim country, of which there are plenty much closer than Sweden. Europe is full: go look at the unemployment stats. But here I am getting into it, and I said I wouldn’t.

Rollo is trying to square the circle of the Red Pill for the second time in three weeks.

The circle is that if what he says about women’s hypergamy and sexual strategy is correct, no sane man would ever commit his life, income or assets to a partnership with one, and the only kind of love a sane man could feel is an aesthetic feeling similar to the “love” that one has for sunsets, a favourite comedian or a pretty figure, which is not a love for a person, but for particular features of them. This is the position of PUAs and MGTOWs.

Rollo’s audience are men who want to feel the whole-person kind of love leading to financial commitments that can be cashed in by lawyers. (What makes it worse is that this seems to me to be a laudable ambition, just not one that is going to be happily fulfilled in the current exact conditions of really-existing Capitalism.) He can’t say that he can show how Red Pill aware love for the whole woman is possible, because it isn’t, but if he says words to the effect of “bitches ain’t nothing but sex and entertainment” he risks losing his audience. Roosh lost his moorings a while back with the neo-masculinity thing, Heartiste is shilling for Trump and could be in more white supremacy mode unless he signed off “14/88” (look it up). Rollo is the last of the three R’s standing and it's slightly worrying that he can't deal with this. It's the sort of thing that causes thinkers to implode.

And I'm trying to watch one episode of Nikita S3 an evening, but I missed this evening because I wound up writing this.

Monday, 11 January 2016

Should I know about Chinese Art, or will it go away if I ignore it for long enough?

Should I know about Chinese Art, or will it go away if I ignore it for long enough?


Octopus in Damson on Brewer Street after training and before going to the hygenist.


Yet another new restaurant franchise in Spitalfields Market - something to try in January.


This is going to be a casual, easy rent office space for hipsters with Macs and a glib presentation. Or so the current promotion says.


But I do work with my hands? What the heck else is typing code?


No the waitress isn't telling the clueless Millennials that they can't eat food they bought somewhere else, especially at a faux-Japanese franchise that uses really poor ingredients. I wish she had.