From the January 2012 issue of Panic Moon. Slightly edited.
There’s no
ambiguity about the dinosaurs in 'Invasion
of the Dinosaurs'. They’re rubbish. In other
respects, however, this is a deeply ambiguous tale. The ambiguity allows the
script to make some scathingly ironic political observations, but ultimately
leads us to a very bleak and bitter place.
In this story,
contrasting with other scripts from the period, the eco-activists are the
‘baddies’. It’s like Malcolm Hulke, influenced by the decline of the radicalism
of the 60s and early 70s, was reacting against the whole idea of changing the
world. It’s possible to read the people on the (space)ship of fools as a jaundiced
parody of the left: a tiny, closed-off, self-appointed vanguard who plan to
“guide” others while ruthlessly policing their own internal orthodoxy. But they’re
also like Daily Mail readers, with
their “pure bread”, their plaintive cries of “I sold my house!” and their TV
room where they can go to tut at the modern world. The film in the Reminder
Room blames protestors even as it shows them being truncheoned. Ruth seems more
worried by “moral degradation” and “permissiveness” than she is by the mercury
in the fish.
The script is
full of such queasy ironies. For instance, the conspirators oppose and blame technology,
but their plans depend upon it. Whitaker’s Time Scoop is high-tech stuff, powered
by a nuclear reactor. We need hardly comment on the absurdity of a man sitting in
a spaceship (as he thinks), waggling hand-made
wooden kitchenware as proof of his non-technological simplicity! Such idealising
of the pre-industrial is undermined by the medieval peasant accidentally caught
in the Time Scoop. He speaks of getting his priest to burn a ‘witch’. Meanwhile
his king is off sacking the Holy Land. Some Golden
Age! But then feudal standards of law and order would probably be quite
convivial to General Finch, a man eager to use live rounds on looters.
Are these
people radicals or reactionaries? Seemingly, they’re both. However, the leaders of the conspiracy can be summed up by
their prefixes. Rt Hon, General, Professor, Captain. They hide in a bunker
designed to protect the government during a nuclear war. They will emerge
safely after they have obliterated the world, just as the politicians of the
Cold War planned to. They are the establishment,
the powerful, the privileged. This is the brontosaurus in the room. Even the
fake spaceship is run by ‘Elders’, one of whom is a peer.
Moreover, the plan of the ship-people sounds like colonialism. In the
novelisation, Sarah even compares them to the Pilgrim Fathers. They
will, so they think, “guide” the “simple, pastoral people” of “New
Earth”. These refugees from civilisation will bring civilisation to the
natives. They assume that right. They despise the ‘evils’ of modernity,
yet take it for granted that they won’t replicate them because – and
this is the unspoken basis of their whole plan – those evils are somebody else’s fault.
Looters, meanwhile, can be shot for their “greed”, the abstract
original sin (in others) that the conspirators seem to blame for
everything.
This story doesn’t counterpose establishment reactionaries with
middle-to-upper class hippydom; it depicts them as intertwined, as
equally cynical or deluded. A disillusioned ex-Communist might’ve come
to see a similar deluded cynicism in his own political background. This,
I think, is why the ship-people are simultaneously vulgar Leninists, Puritans
(complete with Biblical names), Mary Whitehouse types and ringers for that couple in The Good Life.
A spectrum of ideologies – blue, red, Green - are tacitly implicated as
lumbering dinosaurs: outdated, ungainly, but deadly. One dinosaur might
fight another, but they’re all essentially monsters (deeply
unconvincing ones at that), and people get squashed under their scaly
feet as they rampage through the world.
This is Hulke’s darkest, most nihilistic story. It contrasts sharply
with 'The War Games', which he co-wrote during a high point of worldwide
protest. Hulke’s last Who script reeks of disappointment. In
it, the Doctor proclaims (as tritely as the conspirators) that the real problem is “greed”.
However, the script seems to say that the real real problem is belief. Belief in anything.
Showing posts with label malcolm hulke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label malcolm hulke. Show all posts
Monday, 17 June 2013
Unhappy Soldiers (The 1917 Zone - Part 2)
On 'The War Games'. From the January 2012 issue of Panic Moon.
The last Doctor Who story of the 1960s is the high point of the show’s attempts to engage with the radicalism of that era. It was made just as the worldwide protests against the Vietnam war reached a crescendo. It’s been called an ‘anti-war’ story, but this is wrong. It’s an anti-imperialist story and, up until the last episodes, it supports revolution.
Pacifism is not advocated. Carstairs uses his pistol to protect the Ambulance and the Doctor never bats an eyelid. The Resistance kill guards all over the place. The Doctor’s aim for much of the story is to raise an army to fight the aliens. 'The War Games' supports revolutionary violence.
The violence that 'The War Games' condemns is that of imperialism. The aim of the aliens is conquest. That’s all that lies beneath everything that goes on in their War Zones. Meanwhile, ‘Butcher’ Smythe and von Weich amuse themselves playing Risk with human lives. It goes beyond noticing that top brass can be callous. The British and German commanding officers have more in common with each other than with their men. They are fundamentally different – alien – to the grunts whose lives they control and squander. They report to the same system of aggressive expansion, and both keep their communication devices hidden behind portraits of their monarchs. Under patriotism, imperialism lurks.
This is really about class. The generals are one class, the soldiers are another. Carstairs and Lady Jennifer are posh but, otherwise, the soldiers in 'The War Games' are the workers (and peasants) of the world. They’re pawns on the board of the ‘great game’. The map of the War Zones even looks like a game board. Those soldiers who throw off their mental processing (ie the ideology of their rulers) start cooperating across lines of nationality and race. Russell looks like he comes from a British imperial war of the 19th century, but he treats Harper, a black man, as a trusted ally. They even start to overcome sexism. Zoe lectures Arturo Villa about tactics and forces him to listen. Kidding aside, Jamie supports her. When the soldiers fight together instead of against each other – like Jamie and the Redcoat with whom he’s imprisoned – they can end the war. That’s why the First World War Zone is constantly referred to as “the 1917 Zone”, because it was in 1917 that a revolution in Russia started a chain of events which lead to a revolt against the Kaiser and the end of the slaughter.
Terrance Dicks’ story about people on a game board (which he tells repeatedly) probably got inflected with revolutionary politics via ex-communist Malcolm Hulke. 1968 re-radicalised him, it seems. However, in the end, although the Doctor’s vanguard conquers the imperialist stronghold and stops the war, they don’t take over. Instead, the Doctor calls in the ‘good’ establishment to clear up after the ‘bad’ establishment. The Resistance will end up back in their ‘real’ wars, their minds wiped of the internationalism and solidarity they learned through struggle. Dumped back in Scotland in 1745, his memory altered, Jamie goes back to attacking Redcoats rather than teaming up with them. In fairness, he is ousting an invader, but this turnabout still highlights faultlines in the radical subtext. The Resistance is never a mass movement. There’s elitism in the idea that only a superior few can see through the brainwashing. The Doctor’s aim turns out to be reformist rather than revolutionary. He collaborates with the forces of law and order to curb the worst excesses and then put things back the way they were. So Russell, for instance, will go back to his imperialist war without any memory of his alliance with a black comrade.
All the same, this story remains remarkably radical in its portrayal of war as a great conspiracy of conquest, perpetrated by a cynical ruling elite to whom all generals on all sides belong, reliant on the brainwashing of the ordinary soldiers who - if they only realise it - can stop the whole thing by cooperating in revolution. Perhaps this sort of thing was only possible in 1969. Perhaps.
The last Doctor Who story of the 1960s is the high point of the show’s attempts to engage with the radicalism of that era. It was made just as the worldwide protests against the Vietnam war reached a crescendo. It’s been called an ‘anti-war’ story, but this is wrong. It’s an anti-imperialist story and, up until the last episodes, it supports revolution.
Pacifism is not advocated. Carstairs uses his pistol to protect the Ambulance and the Doctor never bats an eyelid. The Resistance kill guards all over the place. The Doctor’s aim for much of the story is to raise an army to fight the aliens. 'The War Games' supports revolutionary violence.
The violence that 'The War Games' condemns is that of imperialism. The aim of the aliens is conquest. That’s all that lies beneath everything that goes on in their War Zones. Meanwhile, ‘Butcher’ Smythe and von Weich amuse themselves playing Risk with human lives. It goes beyond noticing that top brass can be callous. The British and German commanding officers have more in common with each other than with their men. They are fundamentally different – alien – to the grunts whose lives they control and squander. They report to the same system of aggressive expansion, and both keep their communication devices hidden behind portraits of their monarchs. Under patriotism, imperialism lurks.
This is really about class. The generals are one class, the soldiers are another. Carstairs and Lady Jennifer are posh but, otherwise, the soldiers in 'The War Games' are the workers (and peasants) of the world. They’re pawns on the board of the ‘great game’. The map of the War Zones even looks like a game board. Those soldiers who throw off their mental processing (ie the ideology of their rulers) start cooperating across lines of nationality and race. Russell looks like he comes from a British imperial war of the 19th century, but he treats Harper, a black man, as a trusted ally. They even start to overcome sexism. Zoe lectures Arturo Villa about tactics and forces him to listen. Kidding aside, Jamie supports her. When the soldiers fight together instead of against each other – like Jamie and the Redcoat with whom he’s imprisoned – they can end the war. That’s why the First World War Zone is constantly referred to as “the 1917 Zone”, because it was in 1917 that a revolution in Russia started a chain of events which lead to a revolt against the Kaiser and the end of the slaughter.
Terrance Dicks’ story about people on a game board (which he tells repeatedly) probably got inflected with revolutionary politics via ex-communist Malcolm Hulke. 1968 re-radicalised him, it seems. However, in the end, although the Doctor’s vanguard conquers the imperialist stronghold and stops the war, they don’t take over. Instead, the Doctor calls in the ‘good’ establishment to clear up after the ‘bad’ establishment. The Resistance will end up back in their ‘real’ wars, their minds wiped of the internationalism and solidarity they learned through struggle. Dumped back in Scotland in 1745, his memory altered, Jamie goes back to attacking Redcoats rather than teaming up with them. In fairness, he is ousting an invader, but this turnabout still highlights faultlines in the radical subtext. The Resistance is never a mass movement. There’s elitism in the idea that only a superior few can see through the brainwashing. The Doctor’s aim turns out to be reformist rather than revolutionary. He collaborates with the forces of law and order to curb the worst excesses and then put things back the way they were. So Russell, for instance, will go back to his imperialist war without any memory of his alliance with a black comrade.
All the same, this story remains remarkably radical in its portrayal of war as a great conspiracy of conquest, perpetrated by a cynical ruling elite to whom all generals on all sides belong, reliant on the brainwashing of the ordinary soldiers who - if they only realise it - can stop the whole thing by cooperating in revolution. Perhaps this sort of thing was only possible in 1969. Perhaps.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Liberty in Space
From the October 2011 issue of Panic Moon. Very slightly edited and revised. This piece really only scratches the surface of its topic. Please think of it as a 'place-holder' for something longer that I haven't written yet.
No story better demonstrates the ambivalence of Doctor Who’s liberal ethos than 'Colony in Space'. It's an anti-corporate eco-parable. Industrial technology has destroyed Earth’s environment and so the industrialists want to get their claws into other planets. IMC even fit claws to their mining robots. They lie, bully and kill for profit. Interplanetary law seems to favour such corporations, even without Time Lord supervillains impersonating Adjudicators. Big business is thus depicted as legal gangsterism. Strong stuff for Saturday tea-time, as you’d expect from Malcolm Hulke.
Thing is, 'Colony' is also a sci-fi reiteration of the frontier Western genre. Poor settler townsfolk versus unscrupulous railroad men. And, like most such tales, it ignores the injustice suffered by the ‘Indians’, ie the Uxariean natives. They may be innocent of Norton’s slurs, but their depiction mostly follows standard stereotypes: they’re inscrutable, sullen, silent, changeable, likely to attack and/or sacrifice you if the mood strikes them.
It’s not entirely straightforward. The Guardian, the one Uxareian who speaks, displays a kind of humane wisdom. However, that’s because he’s the last ‘advanced’ Uxariean. The rest of his people turn out to be the descendants of his ruined high-tech civilisation. Still, this renders the humans’ dismissive term “primitives” rather ironic. It also chimes with the backstory about an Earth devastated by technology: the "primitives” may be a glimpse of the future of Earth’s population.
All the same, the story ignores the issue that the humans – colonists or miners – threaten the aboriginal people with displacement. Ashe and Winton fulminate about their rights against the encroachment of IMC, yet fail to notice that they are themselves encroaching on the land and rights of the natives. Nobody questions that one or other group of humans has a right to appropriate Uxarieus. Even the Doctor blithely says that any hostile alien life on the planet can be hunted and destroyed (how very eco-unfriendly of him!) and advocates human colonisation as an escape from lives “like battery hens”. Meanwhile, not even the Guardian gets to speak about his people’s rights.
Hulke, a one-time Communist whose Doctor Who stories exemplify (ironically enough) the show’s liberal outlook, had previously explored the theme of ‘humans as newcomers’ in 'Doctor Who and the Silurians', but there the situation is depicted as an ethical minefield: Silurian prior claims versus human squatters’ rights. Both sides experience each other as immigrants and both are, in a sense, right. In 'Colony in Space', however, the humans are just alien invaders. This point is never addressed. Indeed, the Doctor supports the colonists on liberal grounds. In a story so otherwise sceptical about ‘progress’ and ‘civilisation’, this is a serious stumble.
How do we account for such a blind spot? The truth is that liberalism itself has frequently been pro-colonialist. John Stuart Mill thought that “barbarians” should be ruled for their own good. Alexis de Tocqueville approved of the French conquest of Algeria and British rule in India. Bertrand Russell defended “the process by which the American continent has been acquired for European civilization”. There’s plenty more where all that came from. ‘Settler-colonial’ states always tended to use some combination of ethnic cleansing, apartheid and extermination against the people already there. Liberals have often (usually, even) been found defending such measures, or at least their outcomes, in the name of the progress of civilisation.
One wonders how much room there will be for the “primitives” once Winton’s colony thrives and spreads. Maybe, after a few million years, Uxareius will be renamed New Earth (which was portrayed as a neo-America built by refugees). Why then didn’t we see any Uxareians in ‘Gridlock’? Probably because the few that survived the progress of civilisation ended up crowded into reservations or some equivalent of the Gaza Strip. Like battery hens.
"In the end, the liberals always do what the empire wants."
- Christopher Hitchens (I got the quote via this.)
No story better demonstrates the ambivalence of Doctor Who’s liberal ethos than 'Colony in Space'. It's an anti-corporate eco-parable. Industrial technology has destroyed Earth’s environment and so the industrialists want to get their claws into other planets. IMC even fit claws to their mining robots. They lie, bully and kill for profit. Interplanetary law seems to favour such corporations, even without Time Lord supervillains impersonating Adjudicators. Big business is thus depicted as legal gangsterism. Strong stuff for Saturday tea-time, as you’d expect from Malcolm Hulke.
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| "Here comes another one looking for a lost droid... he'll feel the edge of my gaffi-stick and no mistake!" |
It’s not entirely straightforward. The Guardian, the one Uxareian who speaks, displays a kind of humane wisdom. However, that’s because he’s the last ‘advanced’ Uxariean. The rest of his people turn out to be the descendants of his ruined high-tech civilisation. Still, this renders the humans’ dismissive term “primitives” rather ironic. It also chimes with the backstory about an Earth devastated by technology: the "primitives” may be a glimpse of the future of Earth’s population.
All the same, the story ignores the issue that the humans – colonists or miners – threaten the aboriginal people with displacement. Ashe and Winton fulminate about their rights against the encroachment of IMC, yet fail to notice that they are themselves encroaching on the land and rights of the natives. Nobody questions that one or other group of humans has a right to appropriate Uxarieus. Even the Doctor blithely says that any hostile alien life on the planet can be hunted and destroyed (how very eco-unfriendly of him!) and advocates human colonisation as an escape from lives “like battery hens”. Meanwhile, not even the Guardian gets to speak about his people’s rights.
Hulke, a one-time Communist whose Doctor Who stories exemplify (ironically enough) the show’s liberal outlook, had previously explored the theme of ‘humans as newcomers’ in 'Doctor Who and the Silurians', but there the situation is depicted as an ethical minefield: Silurian prior claims versus human squatters’ rights. Both sides experience each other as immigrants and both are, in a sense, right. In 'Colony in Space', however, the humans are just alien invaders. This point is never addressed. Indeed, the Doctor supports the colonists on liberal grounds. In a story so otherwise sceptical about ‘progress’ and ‘civilisation’, this is a serious stumble.
How do we account for such a blind spot? The truth is that liberalism itself has frequently been pro-colonialist. John Stuart Mill thought that “barbarians” should be ruled for their own good. Alexis de Tocqueville approved of the French conquest of Algeria and British rule in India. Bertrand Russell defended “the process by which the American continent has been acquired for European civilization”. There’s plenty more where all that came from. ‘Settler-colonial’ states always tended to use some combination of ethnic cleansing, apartheid and extermination against the people already there. Liberals have often (usually, even) been found defending such measures, or at least their outcomes, in the name of the progress of civilisation.
One wonders how much room there will be for the “primitives” once Winton’s colony thrives and spreads. Maybe, after a few million years, Uxareius will be renamed New Earth (which was portrayed as a neo-America built by refugees). Why then didn’t we see any Uxareians in ‘Gridlock’? Probably because the few that survived the progress of civilisation ended up crowded into reservations or some equivalent of the Gaza Strip. Like battery hens.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Skulltopus 11: Changing States
Before the Skulltopus series moves on to the Baker years (and beyond), I feel the need to settle accounts with the Pertwee era, particularly with Peladon. Also, I need to clarify something about the way capitalism is portrayed and perceived in - and by - Doctor Who.
The maggots in 'The Green Death' are the Pertwee era's last gasp of the Weirdesque. 'Green Death' is also the last Pertwee story to properly notice capitalism.
Admittedly, there is some riffing on 'greed' in 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs'; and 'Monster of Peladon' regurgitates (in a reduced form) the political semiotics of its parent story. However, in these stories, while class is in evidence... class struggle even!... there is no tracing it back to anything recognisable as capitalist social relations.
I'll get to this, but first I want to loop back to address something about 'Carnival of Monsters' that I should've mentioned previously: Vorg as an entrepreneur and how this relates to the society in which he finds himself. Firstly, Inter-Minor isn't recognisably capitalist. The latent revolution in 'Carnival' - the imminent revolt of the Functionaries that President Zarb (the panicky social democrat) is trying to placate and Kalik (the fascist) wants to crush - tracks back to race (the story does some heavy riffing on race) but stops there. It comes close... at one point mentioning a strike... but we get no sense of particularly capitalist relations. There are no wages, no profits, no recognisable industrial workplaces and only the barest suggestion of a market at the very end. Vorg, like other Robert Holmes creations, can be read as an embodiment of a more likeable version of free enterprise. Like Milo Clancy or Garron, Vorg is a private operator, a colourful chancer, an individualist, a guy on the make who seems vital and amusing when stood next to grey statist authoritarians. But Vorg's polari version of laissez faire is ultimately judged harmless, or even constructive. He gets some stick for keeping "livestock" in the scope... and it's possible to read the scope itself as a metaphor for commodity fetishism, displaying how commodification of living people involves their compartmentalisation and alienation from proper awareness of the endless rut in which they circle. However, I think this is far more about race as an artificial construct than it is about commodification (I'll try to address this in another post some time). And, ultimately, Vorg's carny capitalism seems to be a potential force for change, progress and reform in the insular, ultra-statist backwater of Inter-Minor. He ends the story fleecing Pletrac... but the tone the story takes with this implies that a dose of Vorg is just what the Inter-Minorans need. To the extent that capitalism appears in 'Carnival', it does so through the rosy lens of Vorg.
Now, back to the post-'Green Death' Pertwee era.
'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' is a densely political text, hugely ambivalent and needing a great deal of unpacking. There is, as I say, some harping on about the evils of 'greed' and an implied anxiety about industrial pollution... but, ultimately, the story essentializes the social dystrophies of capitalism into malformations in human nature, which are (it is implied) exacerbated when people go around believing things. This is in line with Hulke's liberalism - he really was a liberal, you know, rather than a communist - though the sheer pessimism on display is a new development, probably related to the ebbing of protest and struggle in the mid-70s. Hulke is at his most radical ('The War Games' in '68) when protest and struggle are at their highest, so its no surprise to see him slump into despondency and disillusion as social struggle does the same. (I went into this, in brief, in the January 2012 issue of Panic Moon.)
Now, 'Monster of Peladon'. Hmm, what can I say about this story? Dear god, I hate it. Going into why in detail would take an entire post by itself. Or an entire series of posts, more likely. (Yes, yes, okay, I'll get around to it one day - I know you love it when I trash stuff, you mean-spirited people.)
Suffice it to say, 'Monster' is aware of the exploitation of workers but doesn't think this bad in and of itself. It's just that the workers should be treated well and get a seat at the table of government... or rather, an ex-worker should. After all, there's nothing "only" about being a miner... just as long as a miner doesn't become aware of the class struggle, whereupon he becomes nothing but a violent, callous, fanatical, looney-left agitator type, who needs to die so the sane miners can come to an equitable understanding with the people who live off them. There are also callous fanatics in government, of course. The reactionaries. Thus, the clash of the fundamental interests of rulers and ruled becomes an unhinged pathology in the minds of extremists - be they raving Scargills or misguided Thatchers - to be solved by all parties pulling together in the national interest against a foreign foe. The imperialism of a great power is almost depicted when the Ice Warriors turn up, ostensibly to ensure the continuation of a smooth flow of resources from the client state to the empire... but they turn out to be members of a subversive group working for a foreign power. This is like representing the 1954 coup in Guatemala as the work of American communists who wanted to send all the bananas to Russia, rather than a CIA operation on behalf of the United Fruit Company.
More fundamentally, there is a very much reduced consciousness of capitalism in this story.
The original Peladon tale heavily implied capitalist trade and development as something positive, as progress that was coming to sweep away the 'old ways'... but, in its liberalism, it saw a certain dark potentiality which it manifested in the person of Arcturus. He was a quasi-skulltopus because 'Curse of Peladon' was using two clashing system of signs: the gothic, to represent the 'backwardness' of fedualism, and the Who-version of the tentacular Weird, which had come (in 'Spearhead from Space' and 'Claws of Axos') to be furtively associated with capital. Arcturus merges the two systems because he's a representative of the capitalist future but he's also a reactionary protectionist who wants to restrict Peladon's access to markets (he wants their minerals for his people alone) and who allies himself with Hepesh, the figurehead of the old, feudal values. Centauri, meanwhile, is the 'nice' form of the capitalist tentacular, offering free and unfettered access to trade, etc. This was a reflection of the liberal view of the UK's imminent entry into the Common Market. (I go into this matter here.)
'Monster', however, was broadcast after miners' strikes had brought down a Tory government. Miners were by far the most powerful and organised group of militant workers in the country and were winning inspiring (or terrifying, depending on your place in the class struggle) victories. Accordingly, in its liberalism, 'Monster' flees from the whole issue of capitalism, even as it deals with the subject of labour unrest. This is its key tactic: stripping the unrest of its economic context. It transforms the Federation into less an implied trade and development grouping and more a military power in conflict with a machiavellian rival. It notices that 'progress' has done little for the miners but blames this on the enemy, on the war, and on the truculence and superstition of the miners themselves.
Unavoidably, people at the time of broadcast would've been reminded of real-world miners' struggles of the day, but within the text itself the Peladonian miners seem like generic sci-fi rebels crossed with Mummerset yokels. Their objections are not about working conditions or wages but are instead focused on resentment of authority and backward fear of technology.
And, crucially, their masters (local and federal) seem like military statists rather than a private company. They are mining for a combination of the feudal Peladonian state and the representatives of the Federation, itself apparently an interplanetary 'state of states' which is demanding their minerals for defensive war rather than for trade per se, and certainly not for profit.
This matters to the tentacles. This is why they don't erupt again, except in the recycled figure of Centauri. 'Curse' used tentacles to signify capitalism, as had previous stories... but it does so happily, seeing capitalism as bringing progress both economic and social. 'Monster' was made at a time when this view was already harder to sustain, so it evades capitalism almost entirely. Having already used tentacles to signify capitalism in 'Curse', Hayles can't reverse this dialectic and then use them to evade capitalism in 'Monster'. He must edit out both capitalism and, as a result, the tentacular. That's why 'Monster' is so careful to make the miners into the subjects of states, to make their product into a military necessity rather than something to trade. In the widespread cultural understanding of capitalism, this tactic is all that is needed to all-but remove capitalism from the text, even by implication. Even the Federation aliens have become not delegates vying for trade but mining engineers, technicians, enforcers, etc.
Now, in the real world, there is no reason why capitalism can't function as a state system rather than through private enterprise. Indeed, to a large extent, it does... and always has. The essence of capitalism is not private property but rather the generalisation of commodity production through wage labour, leading to the accumulation and reinvestment of capital. Capital can take the form of the state. To be crude: workers can be paid to make commodities by the state. States, whole economies, can - and do - work this way. The old 'communist' states - and even some that cling to life - worked this way. Most economies today are 'mixed' in that they have a private and a public sector, though neoliberalism has greatly undermined the scope and power of the public sector globally, at least outside the realms of military and police power, which it has increased. Even in largely 'free market' economies there are vast sectors in which the state employs masses of people, directs labour, pays wages and, through this process, extracts surplus in the form of products and/or services, surplus which generates revenue which goes into accumulation and reinvestment. The essence of capitalism. The failure to understand this simple issue - which, in fairness, has been systematically obscured with propaganda and misprision from virtually all corners (the mainstream liberals, the free-marketeers and the reformist or authoritarian variants of the left) - has lead to a fundamental and widespread misunderstanding of what capitalism is and, consequently, what socialism should be. This is a digression, but a necessary one.
The point that needs to be made here is that capitalism is generally misunderstood as being quintessentially about private enterprise... so when you leave private companies out of texts, as they are left out of 'Monster of Peladon' and much of the rest of Doctor Who, you seem to leave out capitalism itself. My central idea in these 'Skulltopus' posts is that Doctor Who flees to a version of 'the Weird' when it needs to obscure capitalism as a systemic generator of the modern nightmares with which the show is obsessed. This is a rather clumsy way of talking about actual writers, actually resorting to certain strategies in their writing (albeit unconsciously) when they feel that what they are writing is veering towards something unsayable within the Who context (unsayable because we are trained to think of children's entertainment as needing to be non-ideological, and critiques of capitalism seem ideological whereas tacit acceptance of capitalism seems ideologically neutral). In a social context in which few people fully understand that capitalism can and does function economically within political forms of statism, even forms which legally prohibit private companies, a writer is not going to feel this 'veering towards the unsayable' about a text which leaves out private companies. He or she will not feel capitalism looming as a presence within the text, no more than will most of the texts readers and/or viewers.
This is one major reason why the exploitation of wage labour seen in, say, 'Doctor Who and the Silurians' causes no unease which sends Doctor Who into a hunt for tactical incomprehensibility. The employees in the background are less subject to hierarchical pressure than those in, say, 'Spearhead from Space'; they do not seem to connect with any social or technological nightmares of modernity since the story concentrates instead upon putatively biological moral flaws in 'Man'; and, most especially, they are employees of the state rather than of a private firm. Their work seems geared towards the utilitarian aims of the state rather than to the profit of a private capitalist. It is the same with 'Monster of Peladon'. The Peladonian miners may have made viewers think of present-day miners' struggles, but within the text they seemed not to relate to capitalism precisely because they are the paid subjects of a state system rather than a private company.
What this misses, of course, is that the state as we know it is a capitalist state, an emanation of the capitalist system, fused with capitalism, a form of capitalist social relation, a form of alienation, etc. But, fascinating as this subject may be, it is way outside both my expertise and my remit here. It is, for instance, fascinating that the Peladon stories (unwittingly) depict a fedual state evolving to fit capitalist social relations... since the modern European state system arose under fedualism and adapted to fit capitalism as the new system grew within it. But you don't want to read my amateur musings on this. Still less, in my view, do you want to take any notice of what Brian Hayles says.
The maggots in 'The Green Death' are the Pertwee era's last gasp of the Weirdesque. 'Green Death' is also the last Pertwee story to properly notice capitalism.
Admittedly, there is some riffing on 'greed' in 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs'; and 'Monster of Peladon' regurgitates (in a reduced form) the political semiotics of its parent story. However, in these stories, while class is in evidence... class struggle even!... there is no tracing it back to anything recognisable as capitalist social relations.
I'll get to this, but first I want to loop back to address something about 'Carnival of Monsters' that I should've mentioned previously: Vorg as an entrepreneur and how this relates to the society in which he finds himself. Firstly, Inter-Minor isn't recognisably capitalist. The latent revolution in 'Carnival' - the imminent revolt of the Functionaries that President Zarb (the panicky social democrat) is trying to placate and Kalik (the fascist) wants to crush - tracks back to race (the story does some heavy riffing on race) but stops there. It comes close... at one point mentioning a strike... but we get no sense of particularly capitalist relations. There are no wages, no profits, no recognisable industrial workplaces and only the barest suggestion of a market at the very end. Vorg, like other Robert Holmes creations, can be read as an embodiment of a more likeable version of free enterprise. Like Milo Clancy or Garron, Vorg is a private operator, a colourful chancer, an individualist, a guy on the make who seems vital and amusing when stood next to grey statist authoritarians. But Vorg's polari version of laissez faire is ultimately judged harmless, or even constructive. He gets some stick for keeping "livestock" in the scope... and it's possible to read the scope itself as a metaphor for commodity fetishism, displaying how commodification of living people involves their compartmentalisation and alienation from proper awareness of the endless rut in which they circle. However, I think this is far more about race as an artificial construct than it is about commodification (I'll try to address this in another post some time). And, ultimately, Vorg's carny capitalism seems to be a potential force for change, progress and reform in the insular, ultra-statist backwater of Inter-Minor. He ends the story fleecing Pletrac... but the tone the story takes with this implies that a dose of Vorg is just what the Inter-Minorans need. To the extent that capitalism appears in 'Carnival', it does so through the rosy lens of Vorg.
Now, back to the post-'Green Death' Pertwee era.
'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' is a densely political text, hugely ambivalent and needing a great deal of unpacking. There is, as I say, some harping on about the evils of 'greed' and an implied anxiety about industrial pollution... but, ultimately, the story essentializes the social dystrophies of capitalism into malformations in human nature, which are (it is implied) exacerbated when people go around believing things. This is in line with Hulke's liberalism - he really was a liberal, you know, rather than a communist - though the sheer pessimism on display is a new development, probably related to the ebbing of protest and struggle in the mid-70s. Hulke is at his most radical ('The War Games' in '68) when protest and struggle are at their highest, so its no surprise to see him slump into despondency and disillusion as social struggle does the same. (I went into this, in brief, in the January 2012 issue of Panic Moon.)
Now, 'Monster of Peladon'. Hmm, what can I say about this story? Dear god, I hate it. Going into why in detail would take an entire post by itself. Or an entire series of posts, more likely. (Yes, yes, okay, I'll get around to it one day - I know you love it when I trash stuff, you mean-spirited people.)
Suffice it to say, 'Monster' is aware of the exploitation of workers but doesn't think this bad in and of itself. It's just that the workers should be treated well and get a seat at the table of government... or rather, an ex-worker should. After all, there's nothing "only" about being a miner... just as long as a miner doesn't become aware of the class struggle, whereupon he becomes nothing but a violent, callous, fanatical, looney-left agitator type, who needs to die so the sane miners can come to an equitable understanding with the people who live off them. There are also callous fanatics in government, of course. The reactionaries. Thus, the clash of the fundamental interests of rulers and ruled becomes an unhinged pathology in the minds of extremists - be they raving Scargills or misguided Thatchers - to be solved by all parties pulling together in the national interest against a foreign foe. The imperialism of a great power is almost depicted when the Ice Warriors turn up, ostensibly to ensure the continuation of a smooth flow of resources from the client state to the empire... but they turn out to be members of a subversive group working for a foreign power. This is like representing the 1954 coup in Guatemala as the work of American communists who wanted to send all the bananas to Russia, rather than a CIA operation on behalf of the United Fruit Company.
More fundamentally, there is a very much reduced consciousness of capitalism in this story.
The original Peladon tale heavily implied capitalist trade and development as something positive, as progress that was coming to sweep away the 'old ways'... but, in its liberalism, it saw a certain dark potentiality which it manifested in the person of Arcturus. He was a quasi-skulltopus because 'Curse of Peladon' was using two clashing system of signs: the gothic, to represent the 'backwardness' of fedualism, and the Who-version of the tentacular Weird, which had come (in 'Spearhead from Space' and 'Claws of Axos') to be furtively associated with capital. Arcturus merges the two systems because he's a representative of the capitalist future but he's also a reactionary protectionist who wants to restrict Peladon's access to markets (he wants their minerals for his people alone) and who allies himself with Hepesh, the figurehead of the old, feudal values. Centauri, meanwhile, is the 'nice' form of the capitalist tentacular, offering free and unfettered access to trade, etc. This was a reflection of the liberal view of the UK's imminent entry into the Common Market. (I go into this matter here.)
'Monster', however, was broadcast after miners' strikes had brought down a Tory government. Miners were by far the most powerful and organised group of militant workers in the country and were winning inspiring (or terrifying, depending on your place in the class struggle) victories. Accordingly, in its liberalism, 'Monster' flees from the whole issue of capitalism, even as it deals with the subject of labour unrest. This is its key tactic: stripping the unrest of its economic context. It transforms the Federation into less an implied trade and development grouping and more a military power in conflict with a machiavellian rival. It notices that 'progress' has done little for the miners but blames this on the enemy, on the war, and on the truculence and superstition of the miners themselves.
Unavoidably, people at the time of broadcast would've been reminded of real-world miners' struggles of the day, but within the text itself the Peladonian miners seem like generic sci-fi rebels crossed with Mummerset yokels. Their objections are not about working conditions or wages but are instead focused on resentment of authority and backward fear of technology.
And, crucially, their masters (local and federal) seem like military statists rather than a private company. They are mining for a combination of the feudal Peladonian state and the representatives of the Federation, itself apparently an interplanetary 'state of states' which is demanding their minerals for defensive war rather than for trade per se, and certainly not for profit.
This matters to the tentacles. This is why they don't erupt again, except in the recycled figure of Centauri. 'Curse' used tentacles to signify capitalism, as had previous stories... but it does so happily, seeing capitalism as bringing progress both economic and social. 'Monster' was made at a time when this view was already harder to sustain, so it evades capitalism almost entirely. Having already used tentacles to signify capitalism in 'Curse', Hayles can't reverse this dialectic and then use them to evade capitalism in 'Monster'. He must edit out both capitalism and, as a result, the tentacular. That's why 'Monster' is so careful to make the miners into the subjects of states, to make their product into a military necessity rather than something to trade. In the widespread cultural understanding of capitalism, this tactic is all that is needed to all-but remove capitalism from the text, even by implication. Even the Federation aliens have become not delegates vying for trade but mining engineers, technicians, enforcers, etc.
Now, in the real world, there is no reason why capitalism can't function as a state system rather than through private enterprise. Indeed, to a large extent, it does... and always has. The essence of capitalism is not private property but rather the generalisation of commodity production through wage labour, leading to the accumulation and reinvestment of capital. Capital can take the form of the state. To be crude: workers can be paid to make commodities by the state. States, whole economies, can - and do - work this way. The old 'communist' states - and even some that cling to life - worked this way. Most economies today are 'mixed' in that they have a private and a public sector, though neoliberalism has greatly undermined the scope and power of the public sector globally, at least outside the realms of military and police power, which it has increased. Even in largely 'free market' economies there are vast sectors in which the state employs masses of people, directs labour, pays wages and, through this process, extracts surplus in the form of products and/or services, surplus which generates revenue which goes into accumulation and reinvestment. The essence of capitalism. The failure to understand this simple issue - which, in fairness, has been systematically obscured with propaganda and misprision from virtually all corners (the mainstream liberals, the free-marketeers and the reformist or authoritarian variants of the left) - has lead to a fundamental and widespread misunderstanding of what capitalism is and, consequently, what socialism should be. This is a digression, but a necessary one.
The point that needs to be made here is that capitalism is generally misunderstood as being quintessentially about private enterprise... so when you leave private companies out of texts, as they are left out of 'Monster of Peladon' and much of the rest of Doctor Who, you seem to leave out capitalism itself. My central idea in these 'Skulltopus' posts is that Doctor Who flees to a version of 'the Weird' when it needs to obscure capitalism as a systemic generator of the modern nightmares with which the show is obsessed. This is a rather clumsy way of talking about actual writers, actually resorting to certain strategies in their writing (albeit unconsciously) when they feel that what they are writing is veering towards something unsayable within the Who context (unsayable because we are trained to think of children's entertainment as needing to be non-ideological, and critiques of capitalism seem ideological whereas tacit acceptance of capitalism seems ideologically neutral). In a social context in which few people fully understand that capitalism can and does function economically within political forms of statism, even forms which legally prohibit private companies, a writer is not going to feel this 'veering towards the unsayable' about a text which leaves out private companies. He or she will not feel capitalism looming as a presence within the text, no more than will most of the texts readers and/or viewers.
This is one major reason why the exploitation of wage labour seen in, say, 'Doctor Who and the Silurians' causes no unease which sends Doctor Who into a hunt for tactical incomprehensibility. The employees in the background are less subject to hierarchical pressure than those in, say, 'Spearhead from Space'; they do not seem to connect with any social or technological nightmares of modernity since the story concentrates instead upon putatively biological moral flaws in 'Man'; and, most especially, they are employees of the state rather than of a private firm. Their work seems geared towards the utilitarian aims of the state rather than to the profit of a private capitalist. It is the same with 'Monster of Peladon'. The Peladonian miners may have made viewers think of present-day miners' struggles, but within the text they seemed not to relate to capitalism precisely because they are the paid subjects of a state system rather than a private company.
What this misses, of course, is that the state as we know it is a capitalist state, an emanation of the capitalist system, fused with capitalism, a form of capitalist social relation, a form of alienation, etc. But, fascinating as this subject may be, it is way outside both my expertise and my remit here. It is, for instance, fascinating that the Peladon stories (unwittingly) depict a fedual state evolving to fit capitalist social relations... since the modern European state system arose under fedualism and adapted to fit capitalism as the new system grew within it. But you don't want to read my amateur musings on this. Still less, in my view, do you want to take any notice of what Brian Hayles says.
Labels:
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Sunday, 16 October 2011
Anxiety Satellite
The indefatigable Mr. Oliver Wake has put together and released the latest issue of the print fanzine Panic Moon. It can be ordered here.
It contains (amongst other things) a judicious appraisal of the 'Day of the Daleks' Special Edition, a look at the way Hartnell's shade has taken to haunting the recent series, a clever thing about the way Daleks always seem to get some new physical ability in first episodes, an interesting look at the pre-Who 60s Pathfinders serials which are now out on DVD and an excellent analysis of 'The Sun Makers' which identifies some of its roots, going beyond the usual stuff about Bob Holmes being annoyed by a tax bill.
Once again, I've contributed two articles. In one, I identify a blind spot in the lefty-liberal creds of 'Colony in Space' and try to tease out some of implications of this, leading me to briefly consider something badly amiss with liberalism itself. In another article, I have a good old ramble about the various ways Doctor Who has creatively misrepresented evolution, often using it was a way of re-encoding mythic themes or addressing political concerns... though there is, I argue, one story that really is about evolution itself.
It's good, so... umm... buy it. Please?
(No career in advertising awaits me, I know.)
It contains (amongst other things) a judicious appraisal of the 'Day of the Daleks' Special Edition, a look at the way Hartnell's shade has taken to haunting the recent series, a clever thing about the way Daleks always seem to get some new physical ability in first episodes, an interesting look at the pre-Who 60s Pathfinders serials which are now out on DVD and an excellent analysis of 'The Sun Makers' which identifies some of its roots, going beyond the usual stuff about Bob Holmes being annoyed by a tax bill.
Once again, I've contributed two articles. In one, I identify a blind spot in the lefty-liberal creds of 'Colony in Space' and try to tease out some of implications of this, leading me to briefly consider something badly amiss with liberalism itself. In another article, I have a good old ramble about the various ways Doctor Who has creatively misrepresented evolution, often using it was a way of re-encoding mythic themes or addressing political concerns... though there is, I argue, one story that really is about evolution itself.
It's good, so... umm... buy it. Please?
(No career in advertising awaits me, I know.)
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