The highly institutional architectural form of the carillon and the very materials from which it is made enable it both to serve as a monument for the public good and to slip into the symbolic vocabulary of fascism. The polysemous music of Dutch poet and composer Adrianus Valerius (c.1575-1625) as performed on carillon for Dutch, German, and American audiences will serve as a motif of this chapter. An unbuilt carillon will provide another motif; since 1919, every American carillon has been built in the imposing shadow of a carillon proposed as a memorial and monument to peace, to be built in Washington, D.C. from World War I shrapnel collected from around the world. By contrast, as Deyan Sudjic describes in The Edifice Complex: How the Rich and Powerful— and Their Architects—Shape the World (2005), Hitler’s architect Hermann Giesler designed a master plan in 1945 for the Führer’s hometown of Linz “with an oppressive scale and an axis from railway station to city center. Along the corridor were ranged a 35,000-seat concert hall and other cultural buildings…Overlooking the river was a 500-foot-high bell tower, with Hitler’s parents entombed in a crypt at the base and a carillon playing Bruckner at regular intervals.” Specifically, it would on certain days play a motif from Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony that he found deeply touching and
The imagination is war-ridden here, as if locked into a militarized family romance become national, communal-neurotic. Christian culture is replaced by a semi-pagan cult with warlord Leader as focus of the Oedipal cathexes and affects: ‘a league of two or three waiting for low water to execute His will. The tripod shadow falls on the dunes. World of the Spider, not Him’ (The Orators, p. 20). Authority figures take on uncanny psychoanalytic as well as political aura, as Auden captures the shift of the lustful, self- infantilizing imagination towards the right and deep fascism: ‘Rook shadows cross to the right. A Schoolmaster cleanses himself at half-term with a vegetable offering; on the north side of the hill, one writes with his penis in a patch of snow “Resurgam”’ (20 -21). What will rise is the return of
An example of rational modernism, the Stadio Mussolini was completed in time to host the 1933 Italian student games. De Finetti recording it as having shown off the brilliance of Italian Fascist architecture.^' Despite the stadium’s strict budget. La Gazzetta was still able to stress ‘its great architectural conception and its vivid expression of modernity’, which was again achieved by combining the mantras of simplicity and functionality.^^ Built principally in reinforced concrete with its structural elements left deliberately exposed, the building was another startling and original example of Italian architectural and engineering progress. Dominating the principal entrance to the forecourt was the free standing 40-metre high, reinforced concrete Marathon tower, with ‘Stadio Mussolini’ emblazoned on the front aspect. Similar to the tower in Florence, it also contained a glass façade that was illuminated by night, from the inside, for the entire city to see. Decoration was minimal with only a subtle use of colour. According to La Gazzetta, the juxtaposition of marble and granite was also intended to ‘underline and accentuate the building, perfecting the black and white of the façade’, which created a ‘solemn and powerful’ effect that resulted from the ‘good balance between occupied and empty space’. B e i n g named the ‘Stadio Mussolini’ was an honour in itself, bestowed upon only the worthiest buildings. Many others, such as the stadium
Second, in so far as modernism is negatively described as not the kind of works that the sentimental, learned, yet uneducated “Queens of the Pen” wrote during Victorian era, it appears aesthetics of the elite, either with capital or with cultural capital, who could “afford” education at Cambridge and host coteries of University wits. Histories of modernism, such as Ernest Hemingway’s A Movable Feast (1964), show that modernism developed in multi- generic workshops centered on patrons like Gertrude Stein. If such is the exclusiveness of their performance, what are the discourses through which they claimed to represent the consciousness of the entire inter-war Europe? How deep is the misogyny implicit in Forster’s quip- “Queens of the Pen”? If the world indeed changed around 1910 and the message of avant garde is to “make it new”, who are the agents of change? How did they read history in general and literary histories in particular, to decide the quotient of their newness? For the sake of methodological convenience and theorization, I shall primarily look at the essays of Virginia Woolf and her subsequent reception in the last six decades.
of Weber with which many earlier interpreters had not fully come to terms with. Second, du Gay’s contribution to the discourse on modernism versus post-modernism should not be underestimated, despite the sometimes drastic character of his arguments. Taking Bauman (1993) as an example, du Gay (2000a: 55-59) is alerting the scientific community that postmodern allegations towards modernity must beware of misrepresenting modernity and falsely juxtaposing it toward postmodernity, for example by presenting reason as ‘madness of rationality’. In addition, he alerts us that anti- modernist positions need to beware of sentiments that may carry the label of postmodernity, but whose moral or transcendental basis may resemble the beliefs of pre-modernity.
However, the need for unity was not the only possible lesson to draw from Hitler’s coming to power. For the anarchists in Spain, more attuned to developments in Europe than is sometimes suggested, the rise of Nazism confirmed their critique of the electoral tactic and the corruption inherent in a democratic system that had acquiesced in the establishment of tyranny through ‘a shoddy political deal’ (Bullock 1973: 253). By returning to the anarchist interpretation of fascism in the pre-civil war period, therefore, I not only intend to bring fresh light to bear on our understanding of anarchist activity in 1933, but also to suggest that this interpretation has some merit. In paying attention to the Spanish anarchists in this period, we might recover a lesson from history that has been glossed over, and which has continued relevance for how we think about democracy, fascism and the state today.
towards a more favorable view of Fascism. Yet, the estimated e ff ect may come from the “supply” of Fascism, as caused by the strength of the Fascist institutions, which might be greater in the areas of the New Towns. If this is the case, the strength of the Fascist institutions should be greater in the provinces that were created by the Fascists in 1927 as they were created and governed by individuals appointed by the Fascist Regime. I investigate this issue in column 9. In particular, the interac- tion between the distance to the closest New Town and a dummy that takes value one if the municipality falls within one of the new provinces created by the Fascist Regime in 1927 is statistically indistinguishable from zero. Suggesting that the e ff ect of the New Towns unfolded pre- dominantly through the individuals’ tendency to support the Fascists, rather than by the direct e ff ect of stronger Fascist institutions in those places. Interestingly, the fascist provinces still display larger support for the Neo-Fascist Party, a finding in line with the persistent influence of local institutions. Yet, such an e ff ect does not seem to be relevant for the study of the New Towns.
We must not forget that just as bad art is still art, unjust politics, all the way to fascism, remains ethical politics. Nor can we be discouraged or disheartened by the historical fact that all political regimes fall short of the justice of which they are capable and toward which they are oriented. Such is the political character of justice: there is never enough of it. The world is not yet perfect – and this “not yet” is the very time of justice. When even our most just political regimes are not just enough, and our leaders never pure angels, surely fascist Dictators and regimes must be combatted all the more. “This is why democracy,” Levinas has said, “is the necessary prolongation of the State. It is not one regime possible among others, but the only suitable one. This is because it safeguards the capacity to improve or to change the law by changing – unfortunate logic! – tyrants, these personalities necessary to the State despite everything.” 27 Politics, like ethics itself, is difficult. 28
Forster's "A Passage to India" is maybe the most Modernist of his books with its accentuation on the mind boggling inside existence of the characters, experimentation with interlacing, confounded plots, utilization of repeating pictures and images, and its scrutinizing of regular methods of speaking to the real world, as the novel continually stresses that whatever we call the truth is a tricky item. These characteristics additionally set up the novel as artistic fiction, and the novel is regularly viewed as Forster's artful culmination . Writing from the initial segment of the twentieth century, since modernism was an undisputed top choice. During the last one hundred and fifty years or so, such terms as “modern”, “Modernity” and more recently “modernism” as well as a number of related notions, have been in artistic or literary context to convey an increasingly sharp sense of historical relativism. The relativism is in itself a form of criticism of tradition. From the point of view of modernity, an artist- whether he likes it or not - is cut off from the normative past with its fixed criteria and tradition has no legitimate claim to offer him examples to imitatge. (Calinescu 2-4)
Simmel’s diagnosis of mental life in the metropolis does resolve the contradiction between notions of modernity as, on the one hand, being defined by a crisis of the senses (Crary) or by traumatic shock and the dissolution of experience (Baer), and, on the other hand, literary mod- ernism as it is seen by mainstream criticism. Both distanced observation, reserved intellectualism, scepticism, irony and the pursuit of authenticity that characterizes literary modernism in conventional construction of it, as well as the world-sensitive modernism as distinguished by Benjamin, are a protection against the loss of self which threatens the subject living under the conditions of modernity. This implies a reversal of the kind of relation between the features of literary modernism and history as pos- tulated by Fokkema and Ibsch, two Dutch scholars who have written on literary modernism. For them, the independent intellectualism and reserve of the modernist subject is not a defense strategy, but the foundation of individual subjectivity as such. They explain, for instance, the allegedly marginal role of the events of the First World War in Thomas Mann’s Der Zauberberg and in Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse as follows:
Among the Japanese writers who emerged in the 1930s, Ishikawa Jun (1898- 1987) is probably the one most often situated within a French literary genealogy, rather than a native one. Biographical fact seems to support such accounts: Ishikawa studied French in the Foreign Language School (Gaigo gakk ō , the predecessor of todayÕs Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, whose illustrious alumni include Futabatei Shimei and Ō sugi Sakae) and taught it for a brief period at the Fukuoka Higher School. He debuted in the bundan with translations of AndrŽ Gide. It is not that surprising, then, that the notable critical discussions of IshikawaÕs work place him unanimously within the lineage of Gide, StŽphane MallarmŽ, and Paul ValŽry, modernists known for their concern with form and their heightened consciousness of language. In an important article on Ishikawa Jun titled ÒJunsui sanbun ni tsuiteÓ (On Pure Prose), the critic Noguchi Takehiko, for example, discusses in depth Gide, MallarmŽÕs symbolist movement, and the preoccupation with the verbal. 7 Chiba SenÕichiÕs study of comparative modernism, on the other hand, includes a chapter on Ishikawa Jun, Gide, and the pure novel. 8 William Tyler has also written about
Close readings of the New Perceptionism debate reveal some deeper discursive unities behind the disagreements between the Bungei jidai writers and their critics. Both sides regard modernity as a social and cultural malaise. All bemoan the loss of spirituality and see sensuous experience as a regression to some sort of base corporeality. Sensuality is conflated with sexuality; the senses seem to represent a dangerous, feminized excess. It is symptomatic that both Kataoka and Kawabata bring in birth control and the potential release of female sexuality in essays that are otherwise focused on the modernist purification of the arts. Perhaps the controversy about the “new perception” can be understood as a symbolic response to the threats presented by the rioting bodies of women, workers and colonial subjects thronging the streets of imperial Japan in the 1920s. There is also a palpable urge to dissociate highbrow modernism from the embodied, noisy, messy delights of mass culture.
That said, and for the sake of expediency, hermeneutic endeavours of this nature are inclined: (a) to sacrifice breadth for depth, with the attendant risk of overemphasising the persuasiveness of cultural change at the expense of other factors (e.g. the designation of an attraction as ‘life-expired’ may have as much to do with the perishability of the materials used in its construction, exposed as they are to excessive abrasion and corrosion, as it does with culturally-contingent estimates of its ‘diminished’ attractiveness); and (b) to characterise modernism and postmodernism as polar opposites or mutual exclusives, which might be construed as unhelpful since certain aspects of the latter are felt to represent an elaboration of the former, rather than a contradiction (this may be why Bauman 2000 prefers the term ‘liquid modernity’ to postmodernity). Strictly circumscribing phenomena in this manner also invites the criticism that what gets labelled as ‘modern’ or ‘postmodern’ rests on the arbitrary judgement of the analyst, thus foregoing a more subtle reading of the resort landscape. Of course, merely acknowledging this does not insulate the paper from such a critique, but it must be emphasised that its findings are grounded in the theoretical constructs as presented in the literature and, of course, remain open to refutation in light of further information.
‘Art and Objecthood’ continues to affirm Modernist painting by situating it against ‘literalist’ art. Fried saw in literalist art a threat to the autonomous abstraction of Modernism, a threat figured initially in the part the spectator’s body now played in their experience of the work. Though critics of this essay would contest his conflation of the work of Tony Smith and, for instance, Donald Judd, it was Smith’s comments from the December 1966 Artforum that prompted many of Fried’s concerns. Smith complained about the limits of Modernist painting, hoping to produce an art experience that would live up to his drive on the unfinished New Jersey Turnpike. After his drive. Smith ‘thought to myself, it ought to be clear that’s the end of art. Most painting looks pretty pictorial after that.’ Another of the experiences which had excited Smith was described just after this: ‘There is a drill ground in Nuremberg, large enough to accommodate two million men. The entire field is enclosed with high embankments and towers. The concrete approach is three sixteen-inch steps, one above the other, stretching for a mile or so.’^^ For Smith, such a site provided not only the impetus for his work, but pointed towards the extension of his kind of project through the making of ‘artificial landscape[s]’, such as would be built in the years following the publication of these comments. Though he quoted these lines in ‘Art and Objecthood’, Fried did not tackle them directly, but it is interesting to posit that Smith’s invocation of Speer’s Nuremburg stadium as a kind of ur-place for post-pictorial, literalist art, might have been extremely problematic."^^ Prompted in part by reading Smith’s comments about the theatrical, symbolic centre of Nazism, Fried attacked the theatrical character of minimalism."^^ Fried
“Buchan” begins “to suspect that the whole dispute might be largely a bogus one” (60). “The Old and the New in Literature” proposes, as I have already quoted, that the jittery rapport between “conservative” and “radical” tendencies in narrative art might best be understood as a conflict between “opposites but not necessarily contradictories,” a kind of parley between “two legitimate attitudes, the one proper for youth and the creative artist, and the other for maturity, the scholar and the critic” (60). The characterization of Septimus and Theophilus corroborates this view. As the essay proceeds it becomes apparent that the argument being defended is, as “Buchan” states at the essay’s end, that radicalism is a necessary counterpart, a necessary forerunner, to the measured wisdom that only age and experience, in Buchan’s eyes, can bring. Thus the modernism to which Theophilus is drawn is not simply dismissed, but incorporated into a more complex dialectic between points of view that recognize “the same fundamentals, but from slightly different angles of vision” (60).