Monday, December 31, 2012

Mension, Debord, & the young Lettrists

One of my main influences in the field of radical theory over the past eight years (and some of you who know me can perhaps attest to this, as I haven't held back from sharing) has been the situationists, chiefly embodied by Guy Debord and Raoul Vaneigem, and their descendents. The Situationist International had its roots in the Letterist International, a group of young radicals formed in Paris in the early 1950s, of which Debord was a primary instigator. Jean-Michel Mension was another early member, shortly kicked out on the grounds of being "merely decorative" (Debord learned the practice of expulsion from the surrealists, and carried it on in earnest). In The Tribe, an excellent book-length interview with Mension, he recalls the days preceding the formation of the LI, including his time spent with Debord.

The first of these days was Mension's eighteenth birthday:
My birthday party was on the sidewalk across the boulevard from the Mabillon. I rather think the metro station there was closed at the time. I was drinking – drinking vin ordinaire on the sidewalk with Debord. Other people came along; I was panhandling, and so were they. Not Debord – but then Debord had money; he got living expenses from his family, because officially he was a student. People with allowances – there were surprisingly many of them – made it possible for the rest of us who were flat broke to survive." And thus began the routine:

      That was the beginning of our friendship; we sealed it that day, so to speak. After that we went drinking together every day or almost every day for several months. We would go drinking, just the two of us, Guy with his bottle and I with mine. He was usually the one to pay; occasionally I had money, but as a rule he bought, then we would go to Cour de Rohan, a little courtyard off Rue de l'Ancienne-Comédie, and settle down in the passageway – there are some steps there, and we would sit on the bottom step, holding forth. In other words, we would set the whole world to rights while polishing off a liter or perhaps two liters of wine[...] We pulled the world apart and put it back together again – and I imagine there was more of the former than of the latter. Still, it was fairly important work: they were real discussions. Guy, for his part, was highly cultivated, enormously well read.

Mension and Debord maintained different schedules, and would meet

     Late afternoon as a rule, because usually I got up late; he got up much earlier. He was living in a hotel in Rue Racine; I have no idea at all what he did in the mornings. He had a more or less regular life in terms of the hours he kept: he never went home really late. During the whole time I knew Guy, I used to get home in the morning five minutes after my mother left for work. He would call it a night fairly early, around midnight or one; he rarely closed Moineau's, and I suppose he must have been in the habit of leaving when he felt he'd reached his limit, had enough to drink. He was methodical that way. He must have drunk alone before I met him about six or so.

Let me also include (and conclude with) and mention Mension's remembrances of the origins of the dérive, one of the earliest and most noteworthy techniques developed for the field of psychogeography. As he recalls,

     The first true dérives were in no way distinct from what we did in the ordinary way. We went on walks from time to time. One among others that became traditional took us from the neighborhood to the Chinese section around Rue Chalon – behind the Gare de Lyon. We would eat over there, because it was not expensive, or occasionally we would stop on the way near Saint-Paul to buy salted anchovies, which made us desperately thirsty. Then we would make our way back as best we could. Some made it, some didn't, some collapsed en route. We also used to visit the Spanish neighborhood along the canal at Aubervilliers. We would go there either at the start or at the end of the night. There was chorizo, paella.... Old workers' bistros frequented in the main by guys who had arrived after the Spanish Civil War, Republicans. We were pretty well received, because we drank enormously.

 
"We went on like that until we were completely potted. Not all that poetic, really."
   

Friday, November 30, 2012

Intro + Bakunin

Routines for radicals. Sounds kind of contradictory, doesn't it?

I've long been fascinated by the daily routines, over a period of time - anytime from a week to a decade - of people I find interesting. At the same time, I've felt the increasing appeal of the more radical aspects of life - in politics, in art, in whatever (in order not to limit myself, I won't elaborate) - and the people that perpetuate them. People whose lives are generally anything but routine. The spontaneity and creativity of the radical seems at odds with any conception of a routine. 

But to reverse the perspective, consider this passage from Clausewitz's On War, referred to by Andy Merrifield in his book on Guy Debord (and also by me, here): 

The baron, if he saw himself pressed on all sides, took refuge in his castle to gain time and wait a more favorable moment; and towns sought by their walls to keep off the passing hurricane of war.
 Also, these:
Don't just survive while waiting for someone's revolution to clear your head, don't sign up for the armies of anorexia or bulimia - act as if you were already free, calculate the odds, step out, remember the Code Duello - Smoke Pot/Eat Chicken/Drink Tea. (Hakim Bey, T.A.Z.)
It is no longer a matter of foretelling the collapse or depicting the possibilities of joy. Whether it comes sooner or later, the point is to prepare for it[...] What remains to be created, to be tended as one tends a fire, is a certain outlook, a certain tactical fever, which once it has emerged, even now, reveals itself as determinant – and a constant source of determination. (The Invisible Committee, The Coming Insurrection)
It's never too early to learn and practice what less pacified, less predictable times might require of us. (Ditto)
In the context of these precepts, the radical's routine takes on a zen quality, a sort of active meditation. Imagine the life of a Debord before May '68, or a Bey after the World of Islam Festival, or even a Clausewitz between campaigns....

What follows, then, is a Jane's Fonda workout guide to prepare one for the insurrection, an ultimate book of recipes for the revolution of everyday life: each post I make will consist of a brief biographical sketch of a particular "radical," followed by one or several accounts of the routines he or she practiced, for whatever length of time that ended up being.


 

I'm gonna start off with Mikhail (Michael) Bakunin, the legendary Russian anarchist, because the routine described below was the one that finally inspired me to begin collecting these accounts in one place. And I'll skip the bio this time - because Bakunin is not an easily summarized individual, and I've already written so much of my own intro - except to say that his life could mostly be characterized by the extreme opposite of routine. That is, except for here, a selection of Mark Leier's Bakunin: The Creative Passion, referring to a letter written by Bakunin's wife Antonia:

     His ideas on religion now resolved, Bakunin moved with Antonia to Sorrento in May 1865 to meet up with his brother Paul and Paul's wife, Natalie, for a short time. The visit was cordial enough, but did nothing to bring Michael back into the family[...] Nonetheless, Antonia painted a pleasant picture of the time in Sorrento. 'Life here flows peacefully and regularly as before,' she wrote. 'We rise early, Michael bathes, then has coffee and grapes.... The entire morning Michael writes, while I read.' At three, he would put down his pen, she her book, to take a short nap followed by a swim. At six they would dine, then go for a leisurely walk, return for tea at nine before Michael would resume writing until one or two in the morning.
So there, that's a fine example of what I find quite intriguing in the grander context of a radical life. In the future, these posts will be longer on original accounts, shorter on my explanations. Feedback welcomed. That's all.