Based on my earlier correlation between Kerouac's Ray Smith and Maxine Hong Kingston's Wittman Ah Sing, I would propose that both characters (as well as their creators) are part of a running counter-culture opposing the traditional cultural values of mainstream society—including the wealth and industry of capitalism. This counter-culture opposition has the power to alter society through dispersing transformative ideas and calls to action in various forms of artwork. Both Kerouac and Kingston use literature to reach and transform their audiences presenting anti-capitalistic ideas against thoughtless consumerism in the forms of their main characters whose simple desires and needs are glorified. This glorification of leading a simple life greatly contrasts mainstream culture’s urging towards desires of “the bigger, the more expansive, the better.” As consumers, Americans are encouraged to buy and buy and buy, with special emphasis on expensive status symbols of wealth.
In his essay, “The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism,” Daniel Bell supports his argument for the development of this cultural consumerism from the beginnings of mechanized industry to our capitalistic insatiable desires for wealth and status. He proposes that avant-garde and counter-cultural creations and actions were originally created in order to expel the judgmental purity, rationalism, and sobriety of “the bourgeois,” and because these social revolutions have since occurred, further work of those who claim to be counter-cultural revolutionaries do so in vain (Bell 12-13). Bell states:
The commonplace observation that today there is no longer a significant avant- garde - that there is no longer a radical tension between a new art which shocks and a society that is shocked- merely signifies that the avant-garde has won its victory. A society given over entirely to innovation, in the joyful acceptance of change... (Bell 13)
This however cannot and does not appear to be true. First off, cultures and counter-cultures both being extremely complex systems include a lot more than simply art. Societal transformation occurs on all levels through all ages, in both shocking and invisible ways. Although society cannot rely and wait on art alone for necessary change, art is a great mode of communication and connection throughout a society. I believe that there is still and always will be a variety of forms of "radical tension between...art" and "shocked" society. This tension grant the space for the art of counter-culture to transform society through the dispersion of new ideas and ways of thinking about and engaging with the world.
Bell finds that the current system of capitalism has lost it's footing in cultural developments which have occurred since it's first implementation in America—in the shift away from what he calls the "Protestant Ethic...which was based on a moral system of reward, rooted in a Protestant sanctification of work (Bell 38). In losing this grounding factor of religious morality, according to Bell, our societal rewards became glutinous and insatiable. Additionally, this loss of value in the reward of work for the sake of work itself also creates a shift in our values concerning wealth and excess as Bell states, "Equally important, if not more so, was the change in the motivations and rewards of the system itself. The rising wealth of the plutocracy...meant that work and accumulation were no longer ends in themselves (though they were still critical to a John D. Rockefeller or an Andrew Carnegie) but means to consumption and display. Status and its badges, not work and the election of God, became the mark of success" (Bell 32). Despite the fact that this loss of Protestant Ethic would, and according to Bell did, strongly shift mainstream's social values from work being an end in itself, to being a selfish means of not only status, but also luxury and ostentatious displays of wealth. The meaning and reward behind work itself has dissipated leaving a society filled with only greedy consumers. I do agree with Bell that society has come to place far too great a value on symbols of wealth and various methods of consuming. In order to socialize with one another people go out to eat at a restaurant, shop at the mall or marketplace, pay to see a movie, etc... but all are different methods of consuming. Entertainment through consumption.
Not only is the value of work as an end lost, but with this loss we've experienced a loss of all values of real one on one time and human connections. As Wittman declares, "I think that it is fucked to make contacts rather than to make friends" (Kingston 116). As a society, we must work to shift our society back to valuing all forms of morals ends—work, people, animals, plants, life. Until we do, this tension between societal values and the requirements of human self-actualization while remain an emergent fault line. This divide is not simply political, social, moral, or economical—it lies deep within each of us. And I would like to propose that the work of the beats and other counter-culture art movements lies in making each person aware of this ideological fault line and realize the disconnect between our true needs and our selfish desires.
All of Kerouac’s Dharma Bums present different ways in which to lead a simple life and value all other forms of life in doing so by following an Eastern enlightened way of existing and living. Ray works to practice ahimsa by producing the least amount of harm he can on the world around him throughout the novel. The tension of the previous mentioned disconnect or fault line also exists in the conflict regarding the freedom of Bob the dog with his brother-in-law. Ray views the dog as an end in his own right, while his brother-in-law views him as property. This disconnect reveals the contradiction in capitalism—in viewing life as a means to an end, the sanctified and priceless value of life is commodified as well.
This divide can be considered to be generational, with regards to the idiom that “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Parents seeks to instill in their children the values which they grew up with and deem proper, while children seek to stray from these obsolete values and find values which better fit them and the times. The parent generation’s values pervade mainstream, while the youth’s values transform and develop mainstream. Thus, historically in American, the youth has been a counter-culture of its own. As Bell recognizes, "Today, each new generation, starting off at the benchmarks attained by the adversary culture of their cultural parents, declares in sweeping fashion that the status quo represents a state of absolute repression, so that, in a widening gyre, new and fresh assaults on the social structure are mounted" (Bell 18). The society which we have grown up in (that of our “cultural parents”) is that which has shaped us, but we in turn can alter and shape society itself.
Art is society’s most pervasive method of increasing awareness and allowing a space for transformative action. The art of all counter-cultural movements is the true capital of society. Our worth currently lies in our ability to recognize the need for change and turn that recognition into a praxis of our own.
Works Cited
“The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism.”
Daniel Bell Journal of Aesthetic Education, Vol. 6, No. 1/2, Special Double Issue: Capitalism, Culture, and Education (Jan. - Apr., 1972), pp. 11-38 Published by: University of Illinois Press
link to pdf: http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdfplus/3331409.pdf
Sunday, November 23, 2008
This Week's Community Response
Once again, just posting this here so that I can have my development of thoughts in one space:
Last week, I conducted a close reading of Ray Smith's relations with his brother-in-law focusing on an argument regarding the family dog. I concluded that the disconnect between the two involved a deep disconnect concerning fundamental values, here specifically economics. Ray valuing the freedom of all living things, and his brother-in-law valuing the traditional concerns of capitalistic consumerism and property values. In this week's readings I chose a very different passage from Maxine Hong Kingston's Tripmaster Monkey to compare and analyze back to my earlier close reading of Kerouac's The Dharma Bums:
..."I think that it is fucked to make contacts rather than to make friends. I don't like contacts. What do you say to one? 'What are you offering?' 'To what or to whom is your end connected?' A party is a party...What good am I to you and your associates?" Wittman meant that he didn't want to do business whatsoever. There has got to be a way to live and never do business. (116)
Wittman Ah Sing is arguing with his friend Lance Kamiyama at Lance’s party of “Young Millionaires” and “business men,” where almost everyone seems to be conducting one form or another of experimentation—either with L.S.D., watching a “snow show,” or even simple socializing. The party, according to Wittman’s above complaint, was created in order for the people in Lance’s broad social circle to meet and connect in order to network and develop business relations. In Wittman’s objections to treating people like “contacts” (“What are you offering?,” etc.), he expresses his valuation of human beings as subjects, not objects. As a “contact,” a human being is nothing more than a means to an end, not the end itself. According to Kant, treating a human being as such is immoral.Although Kant’s theory only concerns persons, Wittman’s valuation of human life does relate back to Ray Smith’s valuation of Bob the dog’s freedom. Both Ray and Wittman value life and freedom. Ray treats the dog, a fellow sentient being, as an end in himself. Ray, unlike those making “contacts” at Lance’s party, does not value the objectification of sentient beings nor does he value the effect that a traditional, business-like approach has on society as a whole. Later in the party scenario, Wittman narrates that others might say of him, “He believes in voluntary poverty” (129). Thus, not only does Wittman argue against making “contacts,” but also does not wish to place himself (through his business connections) as one more body coinciding with the consuming capitalistic agenda.
In placing a value on the traditional ideas of wealth and worth (like Ray’s brother-in-law), Wittman would be subjecting himself to a concept which he considers immoral—the use of other persons as means either as clientele, business partners, or ways to advance himself up the economic ladder. Being aware of the immoral effects of capitalism and discussing them over the topic of business contacts, Wittman illustrates the importance of resisting the alluring (yet dehumanizing) possibilities of the traditional valuation of wealth.Thus Ray’s dispute over the freedom of a dog and Wittman’s dispute regarding his disgust with making business connections both argue against the same societal structure—traditional values of wealth in the context of capitalism. Kingston’s narration expresses Wittman’s desire of “there... [being] a way to live and never do business.” This desire can easily seem like a disillusioning utopian dream—so far removed from our current socioeconomic relations and practices. Although such drastic societal changes could not occur easily over night, they would not occur without visionary minds and compassionate hearts like those of Ray and Wittman.
Last week, I conducted a close reading of Ray Smith's relations with his brother-in-law focusing on an argument regarding the family dog. I concluded that the disconnect between the two involved a deep disconnect concerning fundamental values, here specifically economics. Ray valuing the freedom of all living things, and his brother-in-law valuing the traditional concerns of capitalistic consumerism and property values. In this week's readings I chose a very different passage from Maxine Hong Kingston's Tripmaster Monkey to compare and analyze back to my earlier close reading of Kerouac's The Dharma Bums:
..."I think that it is fucked to make contacts rather than to make friends. I don't like contacts. What do you say to one? 'What are you offering?' 'To what or to whom is your end connected?' A party is a party...What good am I to you and your associates?" Wittman meant that he didn't want to do business whatsoever. There has got to be a way to live and never do business. (116)
Wittman Ah Sing is arguing with his friend Lance Kamiyama at Lance’s party of “Young Millionaires” and “business men,” where almost everyone seems to be conducting one form or another of experimentation—either with L.S.D., watching a “snow show,” or even simple socializing. The party, according to Wittman’s above complaint, was created in order for the people in Lance’s broad social circle to meet and connect in order to network and develop business relations. In Wittman’s objections to treating people like “contacts” (“What are you offering?,” etc.), he expresses his valuation of human beings as subjects, not objects. As a “contact,” a human being is nothing more than a means to an end, not the end itself. According to Kant, treating a human being as such is immoral.Although Kant’s theory only concerns persons, Wittman’s valuation of human life does relate back to Ray Smith’s valuation of Bob the dog’s freedom. Both Ray and Wittman value life and freedom. Ray treats the dog, a fellow sentient being, as an end in himself. Ray, unlike those making “contacts” at Lance’s party, does not value the objectification of sentient beings nor does he value the effect that a traditional, business-like approach has on society as a whole. Later in the party scenario, Wittman narrates that others might say of him, “He believes in voluntary poverty” (129). Thus, not only does Wittman argue against making “contacts,” but also does not wish to place himself (through his business connections) as one more body coinciding with the consuming capitalistic agenda.
In placing a value on the traditional ideas of wealth and worth (like Ray’s brother-in-law), Wittman would be subjecting himself to a concept which he considers immoral—the use of other persons as means either as clientele, business partners, or ways to advance himself up the economic ladder. Being aware of the immoral effects of capitalism and discussing them over the topic of business contacts, Wittman illustrates the importance of resisting the alluring (yet dehumanizing) possibilities of the traditional valuation of wealth.Thus Ray’s dispute over the freedom of a dog and Wittman’s dispute regarding his disgust with making business connections both argue against the same societal structure—traditional values of wealth in the context of capitalism. Kingston’s narration expresses Wittman’s desire of “there... [being] a way to live and never do business.” This desire can easily seem like a disillusioning utopian dream—so far removed from our current socioeconomic relations and practices. Although such drastic societal changes could not occur easily over night, they would not occur without visionary minds and compassionate hearts like those of Ray and Wittman.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Realistic Representation
A vital component of representation for a social group is unity. However, many past movements have struggled to find a unified angle through which to represent the entire group--as individuals, even within social groups, we all have our singular values and beliefs, which may coincide with those of the entire group and may not. Kerouac conveys this difference amongst the individuals of the beat movement in his novel The Dharma Bums in writing, “We were two strange dissimilar monks on the same path” (176). The two main characters Japhy Ryder, based on Gary Snyder, and the narrator Ray Smith, based on Kerouac himself, both consider themselves to be "Dharma Bums," poets, and to possess a bit of "Zen Lunacy," but they express these terms through different conduits.
The most obvious difference between these two Dharma Bums is activity level. Japhy becomes frustrated with Ray one day, saying, "‘Why do you sit on your ass all day?’(Ray responds,) ‘I practice do-nothing.’ (To which Japhy retorts,) ‘What’s the difference? Burn it, my Buddhism is activity’” (175). Although Japhy practices the traditional form of meditation still three times a day, he remains active and busy most of his day contributing to his living community or studies in one way or another. Japhy thrives off of this activity, and through this activity he considers himself free. Ray is more of an observer. He calls the practice of "do-nothing" what the mainstream society of the time would most likely call "lazy." He finds his freedom in being able to sit and watch and enjoy the busy goings-on around him.
The two also differ on their views of sexual activity and alcohol. Ray abstained from Japhy's ancient ritual re-enactments of yabyum or other lustful activities, mentioning within his narration, “I really thought myself a kind of crazy saint" (186). While Japhy practiced a more hedonistic view going against mainstream America's "suburban ideal and sex repression and general dreary newspaper gray censorship of all our real human values" with his various methods of practicing (what Ray defines as) "Zen intellectual artistic Buddhism" (31, 115). Furthermore, although both Japhy and Ray drank alcohol, Ray is described throughout the novel as having alcoholic tendencies. Japhy finally expresses to Ray the power which alcohol seems to have over him, "You're just drinking too much all the time, I don't see how you're even going to gain enlightenment and manage to stay out in the mountains, you'll always be coming down the hill spending your bean money on wine and finally you'll end up lying in the street in the rain, dead drunk" (191). Although Japhy may seem to simply be regurgitating mainstream society's distant, cold judgments of people identifying the with beats in general, his words stem more from a concern for his friend, not only a concern that he will die an alcohol, but also how this will affect his ability to be enlightened and follow the dharma.
Despite their difference (and society's judgments), the two friends remain classified as "Dharma Bums" (while their real-life counter parts remain classified as "beat poets"). Kerouac, through his novel, invites his readers to recognize and accept that difference and dissention thrive in all social groups, and by granting us these contrasting values allows his reader to develop a more realistic and thorough view of what it means to be a Dharma Bum (or a beat).
The most obvious difference between these two Dharma Bums is activity level. Japhy becomes frustrated with Ray one day, saying, "‘Why do you sit on your ass all day?’(Ray responds,) ‘I practice do-nothing.’ (To which Japhy retorts,) ‘What’s the difference? Burn it, my Buddhism is activity’” (175). Although Japhy practices the traditional form of meditation still three times a day, he remains active and busy most of his day contributing to his living community or studies in one way or another. Japhy thrives off of this activity, and through this activity he considers himself free. Ray is more of an observer. He calls the practice of "do-nothing" what the mainstream society of the time would most likely call "lazy." He finds his freedom in being able to sit and watch and enjoy the busy goings-on around him.
The two also differ on their views of sexual activity and alcohol. Ray abstained from Japhy's ancient ritual re-enactments of yabyum or other lustful activities, mentioning within his narration, “I really thought myself a kind of crazy saint" (186). While Japhy practiced a more hedonistic view going against mainstream America's "suburban ideal and sex repression and general dreary newspaper gray censorship of all our real human values" with his various methods of practicing (what Ray defines as) "Zen intellectual artistic Buddhism" (31, 115). Furthermore, although both Japhy and Ray drank alcohol, Ray is described throughout the novel as having alcoholic tendencies. Japhy finally expresses to Ray the power which alcohol seems to have over him, "You're just drinking too much all the time, I don't see how you're even going to gain enlightenment and manage to stay out in the mountains, you'll always be coming down the hill spending your bean money on wine and finally you'll end up lying in the street in the rain, dead drunk" (191). Although Japhy may seem to simply be regurgitating mainstream society's distant, cold judgments of people identifying the with beats in general, his words stem more from a concern for his friend, not only a concern that he will die an alcohol, but also how this will affect his ability to be enlightened and follow the dharma.
Despite their difference (and society's judgments), the two friends remain classified as "Dharma Bums" (while their real-life counter parts remain classified as "beat poets"). Kerouac, through his novel, invites his readers to recognize and accept that difference and dissention thrive in all social groups, and by granting us these contrasting values allows his reader to develop a more realistic and thorough view of what it means to be a Dharma Bum (or a beat).
Project Proposal
Each generation has subcultures which go against or transform the ideology of the mainstream values and practices of the generation before them creating a tension between the two on a personal level as well as broader, social level. The subculture of the beats of the 1950s is a strong portrayal of this generational divide. The artistic and literary creations of the beats were intended to transform mainstream society’s views on sex, consumerism, ecological awareness, and spiritual life. However, many from the generation before misread or feared and undervalued the transformational goals of the beats. Economic changes and disillusionment were large factors in opening the space for societal transformation, and yet, this cycle of generational divide seems to persist time and time again—is there ever a time when parent’s read their children correctly?
This generational misread forced the beats to use various methods and terms to represent their movement and values. A constellation of images created by the bums” and “Zen lunatics”, illustrate the extensive explication of who they were as a transformational, artistic movement. Often read as lazy bums, ne’er-do-wells, “mom- (and cop-) haters”, the beats holistic aims and spiritually expansive goals, were undervalued in their time, and yet, currently, more and more people are jumping on the bandwagon of their various ideals and admiring the work which they so ardently produced a half a century ago.
Both Ginsberg and Kerouac had interesting relations with their relatives and the traditionalist literary artists before them. In analyzing their relations and feelings towards both these aspects of generational divide, I plan to explore this divide and the effects produced on the beats themselves and the transformational work that they created. Also, in order to analyze the divide between the subculture of the beats and mainstream culture of the older society, I plan to utilize the Life Magazine article which Nancy J. Peters references in her essay on the Beat Generation and similarly pop-culture representations of those times.
This generational misread forced the beats to use various methods and terms to represent their movement and values. A constellation of images created by the bums” and “Zen lunatics”, illustrate the extensive explication of who they were as a transformational, artistic movement. Often read as lazy bums, ne’er-do-wells, “mom- (and cop-) haters”, the beats holistic aims and spiritually expansive goals, were undervalued in their time, and yet, currently, more and more people are jumping on the bandwagon of their various ideals and admiring the work which they so ardently produced a half a century ago.
Both Ginsberg and Kerouac had interesting relations with their relatives and the traditionalist literary artists before them. In analyzing their relations and feelings towards both these aspects of generational divide, I plan to explore this divide and the effects produced on the beats themselves and the transformational work that they created. Also, in order to analyze the divide between the subculture of the beats and mainstream culture of the older society, I plan to utilize the Life Magazine article which Nancy J. Peters references in her essay on the Beat Generation and similarly pop-culture representations of those times.
Mainstream vs. Dreamstream
The following is my close-reading assignment for Week 7,but since it relates back to my assignment I also wanted to post it on my blog to have everything in one easy to find and view location:
In exploring Kerouac's need for socially-defining terms of his lifestyle, the importance placed on his family sheds a new light on the struggle to represent oneself and one's group through language. During the narrator's visit at home in North Carolina for Christmas, tension between him and his brother-in-law finally reaches a breaking point in an argument over the dog:
...my serenity was finally disturbed by a curious argument with my brother-in-law; he began to resent my unshackling Bob the dog and taking him in the woods with me. "I’ve got too much money invested in that dog to untie him from his chain." I said "How would you like to be tied to a chain and cry all day like the dog?"He replied "It doesn’t bother me." (143)
The tension between Ray Smith and his brother-in-law lies deeply in their societal values, not in their specific concerns for Bob. The brother-in-law's values are placed in tradition and economics. He cannot stand the idea of a dog being able to run free because it is normal--traditional, even--to keep him chained up. Also, he views the dog as property, "I've got too much money invested in that dog.."--his property, while Ray views the dog rather as a sentient being who should be valued and respected on a more humane level. This dog, like any human, is alive, and should be treated with the same respect and mutuality, according to Ray. Ray also views all humans tied into the system of economic concerns and consumerism to be chained and controlled like Bob. A few pages before this passage, Ray announces, “I felt free and therefore I was free” expressing his liberation from the bonds of consumerism (138). In this argument
with his brother-in-law, the reader sees (ironically through his own words) that the brother-in-law is not free, but rather shackled to consumerism and capitalism, just as he also wishes to chain the dog under and into the same system. The two men cannot agree on a subject as small as whether to let a dog run free or keep him chained because their ideologies and basic value systems differ so greatly: Ray values freedom and life, while his brother-in-law values
tradition and wealth.
Many others also view Ray's values as going against tradition, against the grain, but that seems to be even more why he stresses his desire to be defined as "free," instead of "lazy" or "odd." He also possesses an understanding that many who are locked into these restricting societal values desire to be confident and comfortable with a freer lifestyle similar to his own, but either
do not know how to break free from their chains, or do not realize that they are restrained by them:
So what did care about the old tobacco-chewing stickwhittlers at the crossroads store had to say about my mortal eccentricity, we all get to be gum in graves anyway. I even got a little drunk with one of the old men one time and we went driving around the country roads and I actually told him how I was sitting out in those woods meditating and he really rather understood and said he would like to try that if he had time, or if he could get up enough nerve, and had a little rueful envy in his voice. Everybody knows everything. (139)
In exploring Kerouac's need for socially-defining terms of his lifestyle, the importance placed on his family sheds a new light on the struggle to represent oneself and one's group through language. During the narrator's visit at home in North Carolina for Christmas, tension between him and his brother-in-law finally reaches a breaking point in an argument over the dog:
...my serenity was finally disturbed by a curious argument with my brother-in-law; he began to resent my unshackling Bob the dog and taking him in the woods with me. "I’ve got too much money invested in that dog to untie him from his chain." I said "How would you like to be tied to a chain and cry all day like the dog?"He replied "It doesn’t bother me." (143)
The tension between Ray Smith and his brother-in-law lies deeply in their societal values, not in their specific concerns for Bob. The brother-in-law's values are placed in tradition and economics. He cannot stand the idea of a dog being able to run free because it is normal--traditional, even--to keep him chained up. Also, he views the dog as property, "I've got too much money invested in that dog.."--his property, while Ray views the dog rather as a sentient being who should be valued and respected on a more humane level. This dog, like any human, is alive, and should be treated with the same respect and mutuality, according to Ray. Ray also views all humans tied into the system of economic concerns and consumerism to be chained and controlled like Bob. A few pages before this passage, Ray announces, “I felt free and therefore I was free” expressing his liberation from the bonds of consumerism (138). In this argument
with his brother-in-law, the reader sees (ironically through his own words) that the brother-in-law is not free, but rather shackled to consumerism and capitalism, just as he also wishes to chain the dog under and into the same system. The two men cannot agree on a subject as small as whether to let a dog run free or keep him chained because their ideologies and basic value systems differ so greatly: Ray values freedom and life, while his brother-in-law values
tradition and wealth.
Many others also view Ray's values as going against tradition, against the grain, but that seems to be even more why he stresses his desire to be defined as "free," instead of "lazy" or "odd." He also possesses an understanding that many who are locked into these restricting societal values desire to be confident and comfortable with a freer lifestyle similar to his own, but either
do not know how to break free from their chains, or do not realize that they are restrained by them:
So what did care about the old tobacco-chewing stickwhittlers at the crossroads store had to say about my mortal eccentricity, we all get to be gum in graves anyway. I even got a little drunk with one of the old men one time and we went driving around the country roads and I actually told him how I was sitting out in those woods meditating and he really rather understood and said he would like to try that if he had time, or if he could get up enough nerve, and had a little rueful envy in his voice. Everybody knows everything. (139)
Sunday, November 9, 2008
I find both Ginsberg’s “angelheaded hipsters” and Kerouac’s “Dharma bums” and “Zen lunatics” to be fascinating terms because of their representational value and importance with regards to the beat movement. The above terms stress the value of accurate representation and can represent or define a group. The beats needed to counter the mainstream views of them as lazy drunkards, “mom (and cop-) haters”, and drug addicts. Although these ideas may have also been true, the motivational reasons behind their actions with misrepresented by these readings.
Ginsberg utilizes images of religion as well as generational divide through his term “angelheaded hipsters.” Religion and spirituality are very important aspects of the beat movement. Strongly influenced by Eastern religious views as well as the more animalistic Native American views (as seen through the prose of Gary Snyder in his book A Place in Space), the beats discovered hypocrisy in the actions of the so-called “Sunday Christians,” who do not practice what they preach. Additionally the imagery of “angelheaded” elevates the beats and those whom they admire through holy (halo-like) illustration.
The term “beat” itself also presents the spiritual aspect of these artists from Kerouac’s development and reclaiming of the term from meaning “beat-down” or “down-and-out” to “beatific” or the Italian term “beato,” both of which relate back to the religious Beatitudes of the New Testament. According to the beats, blessed are the humble and the meek who lead simple lives and practice charity and compassion for others and aren’t consumed by materialistic desires. This influence of The Beatitudes found in both Ginsberg’s and Kerouac’s works conveys that although the Eastern influence was strong, the beats were not able to completely free themselves from Christian imagery and values (especially with regards to Kerouac who was raised as a Catholic).
Kerouac’s “Dharma bums” and “Zen lunatics” also strongly develop the connection between beat culture and Eastern religion. Throughout his novel Dharma Bums, Kerouac develops these two terms as being basically synonymous in relation to each other as representations of his community of artists (the beats) and those outside of their community who practice similar values, such as ahimsa (meaning leading your life conducting the least amount towards nature including humans and other animals) and dharma (regarding one’s duty in life, including charitable compassion for all with no desire for reward). Although, historically and fictionally (in Kerouac’s novel) the beats all struggle with these ideas and what they mean to each of them and their lifestyles, they all make conscious efforts to develop themselves spiritually in a holistic, Eastern fashion.
Ginsberg utilizes images of religion as well as generational divide through his term “angelheaded hipsters.” Religion and spirituality are very important aspects of the beat movement. Strongly influenced by Eastern religious views as well as the more animalistic Native American views (as seen through the prose of Gary Snyder in his book A Place in Space), the beats discovered hypocrisy in the actions of the so-called “Sunday Christians,” who do not practice what they preach. Additionally the imagery of “angelheaded” elevates the beats and those whom they admire through holy (halo-like) illustration.
The term “beat” itself also presents the spiritual aspect of these artists from Kerouac’s development and reclaiming of the term from meaning “beat-down” or “down-and-out” to “beatific” or the Italian term “beato,” both of which relate back to the religious Beatitudes of the New Testament. According to the beats, blessed are the humble and the meek who lead simple lives and practice charity and compassion for others and aren’t consumed by materialistic desires. This influence of The Beatitudes found in both Ginsberg’s and Kerouac’s works conveys that although the Eastern influence was strong, the beats were not able to completely free themselves from Christian imagery and values (especially with regards to Kerouac who was raised as a Catholic).
Kerouac’s “Dharma bums” and “Zen lunatics” also strongly develop the connection between beat culture and Eastern religion. Throughout his novel Dharma Bums, Kerouac develops these two terms as being basically synonymous in relation to each other as representations of his community of artists (the beats) and those outside of their community who practice similar values, such as ahimsa (meaning leading your life conducting the least amount towards nature including humans and other animals) and dharma (regarding one’s duty in life, including charitable compassion for all with no desire for reward). Although, historically and fictionally (in Kerouac’s novel) the beats all struggle with these ideas and what they mean to each of them and their lifestyles, they all make conscious efforts to develop themselves spiritually in a holistic, Eastern fashion.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The Beats: Bringing to America a Zen Aesthetic
Gary Snyder presents in his prose essay collection A Place in Space a culture and artistic aesthetic connecting all humans to the oneness of the world found in Buddhism. In his essay "A Single Breath," Snyder compares poetry to meditation creating a background for what today is known as the "Zen aesthetic" (115). Additionally, in comparing the aesthetic developed through "A Single Breath"" to his "Notes on the Beat Generation, " one can easily see a connection between the beat poets' values and lifestyles and the Zen aesthetic.
Snyder begins "A Single Breath" in establishing basic differences between meditation and poetry stating that, "Meditation looks inward, poetry holds forth. One is for oneself, the other is for the world. One enters the moment, the other shares it" (109). Thus, the two are eternally separated as you cannot be entering the moment, while sharing it--it is one or the other. And yet, the two have a fascinating tie: in order to really re-live and share an experience, you need to experience it profoundly and let the experience itself twinge, clang, or simply strum the inner strings of your soul creating a music, an art--a bit of "Magic" (15).
Snyder continues stressing the distinction between these two practices: meditation and writing poetry, "Yet poetry (and the literary world) has sometimes been perceived as dangerous to the spiritual career." (112). This concept is not limited to the Buddhist realm of though as it has also pervaded Western thought in the form of Milton's Paradise Lost, where the speaker struggles with the fact that in writing poetry he is acting as a creator, and in trying to be a creator, he is trying to be God, and thus, becomes a devil with a heightened ego thinking he could ever be God. Milton then is left distanced from God and religion (and also society and it's values) in his creation of poetry. The beats too were left distanced from society in their beliefs and values expressed through their poetry and other forms of creation, "When [Kerouac's] novel On the Road was published in 1957, the word beat became famous and overnight America became aware that it had a generation of writers and intellectuals on its hands that was breaking all the rules" (9). The beats strongly felt that, "A regular job ties you down and leaves you no time. Better to live simply, be poor, and have the time to wander and write and dig (meaning to penetrate and absorb and enjoy) what was going on in the world" (9). This simple life and process of reflection valued so deeply by the beat generation coincides with the Zen aesthetic as well. In a way, "digging," as Snyder defines it, can become a synonym to meditation.
Another danger expressed by Snyder which limits the poet's "spiritual career" is a desire for fame, "Ikkyu, a fifteenth-century Japanese Zen master an a fine (and strikingly original) poet himself, laughingly ridiculed his fellow poets, knowing as he did the distractions and temptations that might come with literary aspirations" (112). The beats too often shunned such aspirations seeking only to create and invent. Societal acclaim for them was a by-product of their search for art and experience of life. The desire to live simply, while not achieving fame, Snyder conveys in stating, "[This new generation] published its poems in its own little magazines, and didn't even bother to submit works to the large established highbrow journals that had held the monopoly on avant-garde writing for so long" (9). Although the aspect previously mentioned of sharing poetry is still valued, the goals in sharing their creations for the beats are not the "literary aspirations" which Ikkyu ridicules. The beat generation in a innovative philosophic movement seeks to write and observe truths more than to achieve acclaim.
The beats also work to illustrate the word simply as it is, stumbling upon profound truths in their observances of ordinary things rather than to gaudily transform reality through highbrow literary allusion and other tactics. Snyder relates that "In Zen circles it is said, 'Unformed people delight in the gaudy and in novelty. Cooked people delight in the ordinary" (115). Thus, once again, beat beliefs and values coincide with the Zen aesthetic. Snyder further develops this aesthetic, "In poetry and in meditation you must be shameless, have no secrets from yourself, be constantly alert, make no judgment of wise and foolish, high or low class, and give everything its full due" (116). The beats, as is clearly seen through Ginsberg's Howl have no shame, no secrets, and make no judgments. Snyder explains, "The beat generation can be seen as an aspect of the worldwide trend for intellectuals to reconsider the nature of the human individual, existence, personal motives, the qualities of love and hatred, and the means of achieving wisdom" (13). Thus, in conclusion, the beat generation is a contemporary American enactment of the Zen aesthetic as presented by Snyder. For the beats, poetry is simple and real--"There is no self-pity or accusation or politics, simply human beings and facts" (10). The beat generation worked with this facts of life and created a beautiful, deeply real collection of literary art through their own development of a Zen aesthetic.
Snyder begins "A Single Breath" in establishing basic differences between meditation and poetry stating that, "Meditation looks inward, poetry holds forth. One is for oneself, the other is for the world. One enters the moment, the other shares it" (109). Thus, the two are eternally separated as you cannot be entering the moment, while sharing it--it is one or the other. And yet, the two have a fascinating tie: in order to really re-live and share an experience, you need to experience it profoundly and let the experience itself twinge, clang, or simply strum the inner strings of your soul creating a music, an art--a bit of "Magic" (15).
Snyder continues stressing the distinction between these two practices: meditation and writing poetry, "Yet poetry (and the literary world) has sometimes been perceived as dangerous to the spiritual career." (112). This concept is not limited to the Buddhist realm of though as it has also pervaded Western thought in the form of Milton's Paradise Lost, where the speaker struggles with the fact that in writing poetry he is acting as a creator, and in trying to be a creator, he is trying to be God, and thus, becomes a devil with a heightened ego thinking he could ever be God. Milton then is left distanced from God and religion (and also society and it's values) in his creation of poetry. The beats too were left distanced from society in their beliefs and values expressed through their poetry and other forms of creation, "When [Kerouac's] novel On the Road was published in 1957, the word beat became famous and overnight America became aware that it had a generation of writers and intellectuals on its hands that was breaking all the rules" (9). The beats strongly felt that, "A regular job ties you down and leaves you no time. Better to live simply, be poor, and have the time to wander and write and dig (meaning to penetrate and absorb and enjoy) what was going on in the world" (9). This simple life and process of reflection valued so deeply by the beat generation coincides with the Zen aesthetic as well. In a way, "digging," as Snyder defines it, can become a synonym to meditation.
Another danger expressed by Snyder which limits the poet's "spiritual career" is a desire for fame, "Ikkyu, a fifteenth-century Japanese Zen master an a fine (and strikingly original) poet himself, laughingly ridiculed his fellow poets, knowing as he did the distractions and temptations that might come with literary aspirations" (112). The beats too often shunned such aspirations seeking only to create and invent. Societal acclaim for them was a by-product of their search for art and experience of life. The desire to live simply, while not achieving fame, Snyder conveys in stating, "[This new generation] published its poems in its own little magazines, and didn't even bother to submit works to the large established highbrow journals that had held the monopoly on avant-garde writing for so long" (9). Although the aspect previously mentioned of sharing poetry is still valued, the goals in sharing their creations for the beats are not the "literary aspirations" which Ikkyu ridicules. The beat generation in a innovative philosophic movement seeks to write and observe truths more than to achieve acclaim.
The beats also work to illustrate the word simply as it is, stumbling upon profound truths in their observances of ordinary things rather than to gaudily transform reality through highbrow literary allusion and other tactics. Snyder relates that "In Zen circles it is said, 'Unformed people delight in the gaudy and in novelty. Cooked people delight in the ordinary" (115). Thus, once again, beat beliefs and values coincide with the Zen aesthetic. Snyder further develops this aesthetic, "In poetry and in meditation you must be shameless, have no secrets from yourself, be constantly alert, make no judgment of wise and foolish, high or low class, and give everything its full due" (116). The beats, as is clearly seen through Ginsberg's Howl have no shame, no secrets, and make no judgments. Snyder explains, "The beat generation can be seen as an aspect of the worldwide trend for intellectuals to reconsider the nature of the human individual, existence, personal motives, the qualities of love and hatred, and the means of achieving wisdom" (13). Thus, in conclusion, the beat generation is a contemporary American enactment of the Zen aesthetic as presented by Snyder. For the beats, poetry is simple and real--"There is no self-pity or accusation or politics, simply human beings and facts" (10). The beat generation worked with this facts of life and created a beautiful, deeply real collection of literary art through their own development of a Zen aesthetic.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Brautigan and Brechin Agree: True Wilderness is Extinct
Richard Brautigan commented on the devastation created by imperial, capitalistic societies in his novel Trout Fishing in America more than three decades before Gary Brechin illustrated in detail the demise of what he defines as the Pacific Basin in his social critique Imperial San Francisco. Brechin claims in his introduction, "No area on the planet is now free from the process of global urbanization. Wilderness has ceased to exist" (Brechin xxii). Brautigan also presented the lack of a pristine, majestic wilderness, along side a nostalgic yearning for such a space. In his "Worsewick" chapter, Brautigan describes what should be a majestic family get-away--a hot spring--but this nature site is instead spoiled and possibly toxic, "There was a green slime growing around the edges of the tub and there were dozens of dead fish floating in our bath...The green slime and the dead fish played and relaxed with us and flowed out overs us and entwined themselves about us" (Brautigan 43). The unease and discomfort created by the lack of serene escape aid Brautigan in conveying disgust with the current state of nature--created by the powers that be among men: money and desire.
Brechin states that "as early as 1855, the Yuba, Feather, and American River canyons had begun vomiting torrents of mud and gravel into the Sacramento Valley" (Brechin 48). Also commenting on the Californian viewpoints which lead to such disaster, "Gut and get out: that was 'the true California spirit' brought with and proudly nourished by the Argonauts [the forty-niner miners] Western landscapes had aged with uncanny speed, but few Californians noticed as they drew upon posterity's legacy to create their fortunes" (Brechin 64). The desire for capital at all costs through mining, real estate, or any other forms of investment possessed the powerful elite of San Francisco, according to Brechin, and this desire (and distance from the devastating ecological results) granted these looters of the earth the only justification which they needed--capital.
Furthermore in "The Cleveland Wrecking Yard" chapter, Brautigan conveys the extent to which man has come to treat nature unnaturally. Upon discovering a trout stream for sale, the narrator asks for more information regarding this peculiar item, the salesman replies:
We're selling it by the foot length. You can buy as little as you want or you can buy all we've got left...We're selling the waterfalls separately of course, and the trees and birds, flowers, grass and ferns we're also selling extra. The insects we're giving away free with a minimum purchase of ten feet of stream. (Brautigan 104)
This also echoes California's desire to "gut and get out" in the wrecking yards attempt to gain capital from something which should be valued so immensely (in it's natural environment) as to be priceless rather than partitioned into various sale items. Moreover, water should not be a privately sold and exploited item as it has been proven time and time again to be a vital natural resource. Brechin resonates this sentiment in discussing San Francisco's imperial power over San Mateo County and Hetch Hetchy through aqueducts, "Newlands (attorney for Spring Valley Water Company) well understood what the ratepayers, then as now, failed to comprehend--that water utilities exist primarily to nourish real estate, not people" (Brechin 99). Brautigan, however, extends this idea even further in exploring the effects of this negative ecological ravishing of rivers, forests, and mountains--on humans physically and emotionally. The yearning for a pristine nature site persists throughout all of Trout Fishing in America, while the depressing reality of nature's extinction pervades Brechin's Imperial San Francisco.
Brechin states that "as early as 1855, the Yuba, Feather, and American River canyons had begun vomiting torrents of mud and gravel into the Sacramento Valley" (Brechin 48). Also commenting on the Californian viewpoints which lead to such disaster, "Gut and get out: that was 'the true California spirit' brought with and proudly nourished by the Argonauts [the forty-niner miners] Western landscapes had aged with uncanny speed, but few Californians noticed as they drew upon posterity's legacy to create their fortunes" (Brechin 64). The desire for capital at all costs through mining, real estate, or any other forms of investment possessed the powerful elite of San Francisco, according to Brechin, and this desire (and distance from the devastating ecological results) granted these looters of the earth the only justification which they needed--capital.
Furthermore in "The Cleveland Wrecking Yard" chapter, Brautigan conveys the extent to which man has come to treat nature unnaturally. Upon discovering a trout stream for sale, the narrator asks for more information regarding this peculiar item, the salesman replies:
We're selling it by the foot length. You can buy as little as you want or you can buy all we've got left...We're selling the waterfalls separately of course, and the trees and birds, flowers, grass and ferns we're also selling extra. The insects we're giving away free with a minimum purchase of ten feet of stream. (Brautigan 104)
This also echoes California's desire to "gut and get out" in the wrecking yards attempt to gain capital from something which should be valued so immensely (in it's natural environment) as to be priceless rather than partitioned into various sale items. Moreover, water should not be a privately sold and exploited item as it has been proven time and time again to be a vital natural resource. Brechin resonates this sentiment in discussing San Francisco's imperial power over San Mateo County and Hetch Hetchy through aqueducts, "Newlands (attorney for Spring Valley Water Company) well understood what the ratepayers, then as now, failed to comprehend--that water utilities exist primarily to nourish real estate, not people" (Brechin 99). Brautigan, however, extends this idea even further in exploring the effects of this negative ecological ravishing of rivers, forests, and mountains--on humans physically and emotionally. The yearning for a pristine nature site persists throughout all of Trout Fishing in America, while the depressing reality of nature's extinction pervades Brechin's Imperial San Francisco.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Brautigan Response: The Draw of the Ocean in San Francisco
Richard Brautigan's poem "The Harbor" echoes a lot of the ocean imagery of Ferlighetti's San Francisco Poems and further develops the connection between San Francisco and freedom of expression, art, and love (105). Although some may consider this poem from Brautigan to be a generic love poem, it is far from his usual style and thus appears less generic and more honest and real. Compare this poem for instance with his poem titled “Love Poem,” which is more the anti-thesis of the generic love poems and carries the subtle sardonic tone of both his poems from The Pill vs. Springhill Mine Disaster and poetic prose from Trout Fishing in America.
“The Harbor,” explores the relation between those of San Francisco and aspects of the ocean through their connection at the “harbor’--both a geographical location as well as a figurative location. “Storms of love,” which tear lovers apart, and the “calms of love,” which return them to one another echo the back-and-forth motions of waves onto the shore. The poem’s speaker illustrates “[f]ish [swimming] between our ribs/ and sea gulls [crying] like mirrors/ to our blood,” suggesting the interconnectivity between the men of San Francisco and all life around them--especially within an ecosystem as diverse as a harbor. Additionally, this imagery intertwines not only man with animal, but also lover with lover as the animals bind ribs and blood of those being alluded to in the poem. Despite the distance created between the lovers and the harbor a few lines earlier (“I lie here in a harbor/ that does not know/ where your body ends/ and my body begins.”), the gap is closed through the lovers interconnectivity with the animal-life of the harbor.
Thus, the relationship developed with the harbor of the speaker is in tune with many of San Francisco, especially poets. The water and life of the ocean and it’s juxtaposition to bustling human life within a harbor has a poetic quality all it’s own that even Brautigan cannot deny, just as a San Franciscan cannot help but feel the pull of the tide.
“The Harbor,” explores the relation between those of San Francisco and aspects of the ocean through their connection at the “harbor’--both a geographical location as well as a figurative location. “Storms of love,” which tear lovers apart, and the “calms of love,” which return them to one another echo the back-and-forth motions of waves onto the shore. The poem’s speaker illustrates “[f]ish [swimming] between our ribs/ and sea gulls [crying] like mirrors/ to our blood,” suggesting the interconnectivity between the men of San Francisco and all life around them--especially within an ecosystem as diverse as a harbor. Additionally, this imagery intertwines not only man with animal, but also lover with lover as the animals bind ribs and blood of those being alluded to in the poem. Despite the distance created between the lovers and the harbor a few lines earlier (“I lie here in a harbor/ that does not know/ where your body ends/ and my body begins.”), the gap is closed through the lovers interconnectivity with the animal-life of the harbor.
Thus, the relationship developed with the harbor of the speaker is in tune with many of San Francisco, especially poets. The water and life of the ocean and it’s juxtaposition to bustling human life within a harbor has a poetic quality all it’s own that even Brautigan cannot deny, just as a San Franciscan cannot help but feel the pull of the tide.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Ferlighetti/Ginsberg Response: Representation in America
Both Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Allen Ginsberg complicate notions of America and issues of representation within America's vastly heterogeneous culture. Ferlinghetti utilizes images of imperialism and the vast class divide to disintegrate an image of America as a democracy, and rather re-representing America as an imperialistic plutocracy in his poem “To the Oracle at Delphi,” which was read at Delphi, Greece in March of 2001 at UNESCO World Poetry Day. More than five decades before, Ginsberg revealed America’s ignorance towards the non-dominating cultures, which had consequently created a lack of representation for the silenced majority through his direct address towards the nation in his 1956 poem “America”.
Ferlinghetti’s imperialistic illustration of America develops to reveal the lack of democratic freedom and problems of representation within a vastly diverse population. The speaker introduces himself as "Americus, the American,” but later asks “Why are you staring at me/as if I were America itself/the new Empire" ( Ferlinghetti 79). Despite the connection created between this speaker and his country, a divide is created through the speaker’s denial that he is a representation of America, thus distancing himself from the “new Empire”. Ferlinghetti links this imperialistic America to technology with its “electronic highways/carrying its corporate monoculture/around the world” (Ferlinghetti 79). These straightforward “electronic highways” are juxtaposed with the ancient artistic and mysterious glory of the "Great Oracle” (Ferlinghetti 79). This juxtaposition creates a tension between what America has become through the homogenization of “corporate monoculture,” with the root of the Western ideals it once stood for in it’s identification with Greek culture.
Furthermore, Ferlinghetti develops his complication of the image of America through suggesting a foreboding apocalyptic end describing this time as "the dusk of our civilization,” and requesting that the oracle (“[speaking] to us in the poet’s voice”) “tell us how to save us from ourselves” (Ferlinghetti 79-80). Ferlinghetti suggests that corporate America has silenced everything but technological advancement, and that we must turn back to the “Great Oracle”--“the poet’s voice”-- to truly advance as we turn back to our roots and original ideals. James Brook echoes this sentiment in his essay “Remarks on the Poetic Transformation of San Francisco,” "The contrarian streak in San Francisco still resists the corporate and bureaucratic agenda, the programmed slide toward uniformity of population and cityscape,” and yet, as Brooks also points out, “The self-destruction of the city (through this push to homogeneity and loss of art and diversity) may turn out to be the molting of a phoenix” (Brook 135).
Moreover, Ginsberg also accentuates the divide between how America as a country represents itself and those who actually comprise the nation. In the opening line of the poem, the speaker presents the sense of oblivion of self within this diverse nation, "America I've given you all and now I'm nothing"(Ginsberg 39). And yet later, the speaker attempts to reclaim the voice (and therefore representation) of America in stating, "It occurs to me that I am America./I am talking to myself again," and yet by the end of the poem, the speaker again addresses America, which dis-identifies the speaker once more with the running image of the nation and the violence and ignorance which it has come to stand for (Ginsberg 41).
Ginsberg also calls attention to many groups who are often silenced by the driving forces of dominant America. First asking "[w]hen will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?”, then stating (now speaking as America), "I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns" (Ginsberg 39;41). These recognitions of people who are often not granted a position from which to represent America complicates the image of America and idea of representation within a diverse society such as our own. In recognizing these people, Ginsberg suggests that it is their story we should be seeking to represent America--to truly live up to the democratic ideals we pretend to uphold.
Lastly, the speaker powerfully makes use of racist language saying, “Ugh. Him make Indians learn read./Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help” (Ginsberg 43). This use of racist language exposes racial stereotypes, as well as a racial hierarchy created through America’s history. Not only do these lines further recognize groups of people who are often silenced by dominate culture, but also admits past transgressions against our faux, professed American ideals. Moreover, a few lines later, the speaker suggests that these racist stereotypes come from the media, "America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set./America is this correct?"(Ginsberg 43). Thus, the speaker reveals the dominant representation of America as those with the money and power to control the media.
Both Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg’s representations of America propose we seek new voices and representations for our nation through poetry and recognition of underprivileged groups, while turning away from the dominance of “corporate monoculture” and popular media.
Ferlinghetti’s imperialistic illustration of America develops to reveal the lack of democratic freedom and problems of representation within a vastly diverse population. The speaker introduces himself as "Americus, the American,” but later asks “Why are you staring at me/as if I were America itself/the new Empire" ( Ferlinghetti 79). Despite the connection created between this speaker and his country, a divide is created through the speaker’s denial that he is a representation of America, thus distancing himself from the “new Empire”. Ferlinghetti links this imperialistic America to technology with its “electronic highways/carrying its corporate monoculture/around the world” (Ferlinghetti 79). These straightforward “electronic highways” are juxtaposed with the ancient artistic and mysterious glory of the "Great Oracle” (Ferlinghetti 79). This juxtaposition creates a tension between what America has become through the homogenization of “corporate monoculture,” with the root of the Western ideals it once stood for in it’s identification with Greek culture.
Furthermore, Ferlinghetti develops his complication of the image of America through suggesting a foreboding apocalyptic end describing this time as "the dusk of our civilization,” and requesting that the oracle (“[speaking] to us in the poet’s voice”) “tell us how to save us from ourselves” (Ferlinghetti 79-80). Ferlinghetti suggests that corporate America has silenced everything but technological advancement, and that we must turn back to the “Great Oracle”--“the poet’s voice”-- to truly advance as we turn back to our roots and original ideals. James Brook echoes this sentiment in his essay “Remarks on the Poetic Transformation of San Francisco,” "The contrarian streak in San Francisco still resists the corporate and bureaucratic agenda, the programmed slide toward uniformity of population and cityscape,” and yet, as Brooks also points out, “The self-destruction of the city (through this push to homogeneity and loss of art and diversity) may turn out to be the molting of a phoenix” (Brook 135).
Moreover, Ginsberg also accentuates the divide between how America as a country represents itself and those who actually comprise the nation. In the opening line of the poem, the speaker presents the sense of oblivion of self within this diverse nation, "America I've given you all and now I'm nothing"(Ginsberg 39). And yet later, the speaker attempts to reclaim the voice (and therefore representation) of America in stating, "It occurs to me that I am America./I am talking to myself again," and yet by the end of the poem, the speaker again addresses America, which dis-identifies the speaker once more with the running image of the nation and the violence and ignorance which it has come to stand for (Ginsberg 41).
Ginsberg also calls attention to many groups who are often silenced by the driving forces of dominant America. First asking "[w]hen will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?”, then stating (now speaking as America), "I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns" (Ginsberg 39;41). These recognitions of people who are often not granted a position from which to represent America complicates the image of America and idea of representation within a diverse society such as our own. In recognizing these people, Ginsberg suggests that it is their story we should be seeking to represent America--to truly live up to the democratic ideals we pretend to uphold.
Lastly, the speaker powerfully makes use of racist language saying, “Ugh. Him make Indians learn read./Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help” (Ginsberg 43). This use of racist language exposes racial stereotypes, as well as a racial hierarchy created through America’s history. Not only do these lines further recognize groups of people who are often silenced by dominate culture, but also admits past transgressions against our faux, professed American ideals. Moreover, a few lines later, the speaker suggests that these racist stereotypes come from the media, "America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set./America is this correct?"(Ginsberg 43). Thus, the speaker reveals the dominant representation of America as those with the money and power to control the media.
Both Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg’s representations of America propose we seek new voices and representations for our nation through poetry and recognition of underprivileged groups, while turning away from the dominance of “corporate monoculture” and popular media.
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