Showing posts with label mad max. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mad max. Show all posts

Saturday, March 05, 2011

The Harmonious Interests of Mad Max

Adhering to bourgeois values is what has created and is what sustains Modern culture. Boiled down, I call it all "Privacy." One owns ones own life as ones own private property, and from there, one can and may own things other, given the restriction that one cannot violate another's privacy. We co-operate. We have exchanges that more or less mutually benefit. We don't rob and rape and murder for gain, as a rule. We try to live harmoniously. We aren't mad in the head. We have rules to live by, and they allow us to prosper. Some people really hate that.

Bourgeois values are "mediocre." There is little or nothing aristocratic in shaving a penny. It's not noble to save ones pennies and build them into dollars. Such is greedy, grubby, and mean. It's a mean nation, as we hear from those who know. Who could be proud of such smallness? Only a bourgeois would like putting off for now in order to have more later. Where is the Grand Gesture? Where the heroism of Life? Muddling along and saving and working for tomorrow is petty. Who can love it? It's not only petty and greedy and myopic, it's anti-social to isolate ones gains from others. Why not share and be at one with others? Individuals are solitary. Like beasts. We should all be one. We don't really need all this stuff we gain from counting and saving and hiding away and amassing. Small, man, real small.

Look around at the world and you'll see The People are exploited and starving and enslaved by bourgeois values, i.e. by those who adhere to bourgeois values. If not for the selfishness of the few, then all of everyone could have enough, and the world would live as one. Muslims lived as one till America and Israel destroyed their culture through imperialism and phony borders creating nations that don't reflect the authentic boundaries of the natural groupings. The world's people used to live in a Golden Age of enough, a pleasant time of free fruit hanging from the trees for anyone to take, in harmony with animals and snail darter fish. Then along came a man with a tape measure who declared that the land was his alone, and now, thanks to bourgeois values, most people are starving and enslaved by him, the Capitalist. Driven by poverty, they have to use their very bodies as bombs to try to rectify the evils of the imposition of bourgeois values on The People. And ya ya....

Are those with bourgeois values really any better? Bourgeois values come from an understanding of power: that one has the power to live ones own life according to ones own best lights, in "pursuit of ones happiness." The gods might wreck the pursuit, but maybe not. And if they do, then one tries again, and again, and maybe in time, with luck and a good wind, one succeeds over-all. But regardless, one might try, and there is the power of the bourgeois, that he feels free to try at all. His attempts to control his own life might be mean and petty and silly, but they are his. So long as he doesn't outrage his neighbours, he is free, more or less, to do as he will. If he can do so and make a profit, well, next thing we know, we have flush toilets where before we had ankle deep sewage everywhere. It's not heroic. It's small. It's bourgeois, not aristocratic. It's not villainous; not the mind of a Romantic peasant at work. It's just getting along as well as one may. One is a "boor," as in bourgeois. Petty.

There are those with the aristocratic mind, those who feel entitled to the riches of the world, whose titles provide them with what it is to be a Big Man in the world of peasants. Appointments, sinecures, positions. They amass, however it's done, great fortunes, which they use to arrange appanage for the peasants, bread-payment for the docile and grateful. The court toadies, the bohemian intelligentsia lavish praise on their betters, and all is right with the world. Except for those petty bourgeois who have too much money for their stations. They are a mockery of aristocratic privilege. Their success in the world is an insult to the grandness of the aristocrats, an affront to the peasants, of whom the middle are but for the resented elevation within the bourgeois vision. What right do petty peasants have to succeed? Maddening.

They should, at least, be happy working class contributors to the whole, to the just price economy, to the moral economy in which most are poor but happy, and tended by Philosopher Kings. At best, they would be savages living in harmony with nature, dancing and smiling and performing native rituals for the amusement of the enlightened classes. Muslims will do. Angry and violent savages yearning to breathe slavery-- perfection in its authenticity. The well-to-do and undeservedly so middle class peasant must step aside and allow pride of authentic place to the savage, the truly noble being.

The middle muddle. They quietly pay off all whom they must. They pay off the Philosopher Kings and the peasants and the savages and they keep what there is left to keep. It's a penny-shaving life. It has value. Compromise, give in, sell out, back out and shame themselves, anything for a part of a penny. The bourgeois are rightly despised for their pettiness. Especially when it is grand. When it is America.

Those with bourgeois values have little grasp of the other sides of life, being involved in their own lives and aware otherwise only of the need to pay for peace. Rampaging Muslim savages committing murder by the hour around the world? Pay them off. Give them what they ask for, and we'll say we feel their pain, that in the hope they will feel better about us in time, if not now. Just don't rock any boats or burn any bridges or cross any streets without looking up and down. It's in everyone's interest to remain harmonious, trading a bit of this for a bit of that to everyone's mutual advantage.

And then there are the mad. They don't have so much love of the bourgeois values today as perhaps yesterday they did. Maybe it was one terror attack too many, one person brutalised too badly, one city destroyed by primitives, and then in the smoke and the flames and the scorching heat of battle the primitives don't look like they are worth paying in money for a worthless peace at all. One moves on, abandoning the mediocre middle to those who live it quietly. Is it good, friend?
Pappagallo: "You’re happy out there, are you? Eh? Wandering? One day blurring into another? You’re a scavenger, Max. You’re a maggot. Did you know that? You’re living off the corpse of the old world. Tell me your story, Max. C’mon. Tell me your story. What burned you out, huh? Kill one man too many? See too many people die? Lose some family? Oh, so that’s it, you lost your family? That makes you something special, does it?” George Miller, The Road Warrior. (1982)
If the general system of bourgeois values is to succeed, then most will have to give up to get, in the interest of all, particularly oneself. Mad men are not part of a delicate system of harmonies.

Harmony of Interests

With a proper understanding of one's interests, it can be seen that there is a harmony of interests between rational men. That we benefit enormously from positive interactions with others. This benefit comes in the form of the abundance of wealth made possible by a Capitalism, to the continuing increase of knowledge available to mankind. It comes in the form of friendships, romantic love, and the support of one's family. The harmony of interests bring men together in peaceful cooperation to benefit their lives. This is the bedrock of society. It is why people choose to live in a society.


Although the desires of men may be opposed, their interests are not. Living in a peaceful society is of incalculable benefit to man. Any possible advantage gain from living outside of a peaceful society is insignificant compared to the loss. For instance, living in a wilderness may bring you more peace and quiet, but it is at the expense of friendships and the enormous material wealth possible in a society.

The harmony of interests only exists between rational men. Irrational men and the use of force are not in the interests of other men. Men's interests are only in harmony with peaceful, voluntary interactions. Only when men live by the Trader Principle do their interests unite. Only when men accept persuasion and trade do they become a benefit to other men.
http://www.importanceofphilosophy.com/Ethics_HarmonyOfInterests.html. Accessed 5 March 2011.

Our Modern world is rational, and our rational people know it is cheaper to pay off the primitives than to wage war against them. We know, too, that we cannot always buy them off, and that we must have a rational military force to defend us against the primitives who would otherwise attack and devour such a fat and tasty beast as the Modern world. But we mostly use our militaries today to do the paying off. Organised, efficient, petty in its aims and methods, not heroic, not grand, not interesting. Our military is petty and bourgeois. It is a multitude of penny parts accumulated into one massive machine that more or less works most often in an imperfect world. There are few warriors among the soldiers of our Modern world. Most soldiers want to get along by going along. It is a harmony of interests at work. "Living in a peaceful society is of incalculable benefit to man. Any possible advantage gain from living outside of a peaceful society is insignificant compared to the loss."

It is a fundamental bourgeois value, methinks, to leave political power to the aristocrats and the peasants of the Modern world. The bourgeois is satisfied with paying the bills and plodding along as best he can, pinched and harassed as he might be by each other side. It's the price of doing business. It is an act of rational harmony to interact.

But there are those few who don't have the same bourgeois values. Post-bourgeois, we might say. Road Warriors, to push the point. Those who are as savage as the savage; as pitiless as the aristocratic; as mad as Max. What possible advantage is there in such madness? The bourgeois shakes his head and offers money and a place to count it within the sphere of normal. Rejecting bourgeois values for those post, one is seen as "Just as bad as they are!" The bourgeois is angered and incensed by the betrayal of the rational man who rejects the bourgeois value of passivity in the face of violence. The man post-bourgeois is a a traitor, "No better than they are!" Not a man to build and lay up and save and store, the mad man is alone. One cannot deal with him as a moral being. He is a betrayer of bourgeois values. Where is the harmony of interests? Reject. We cannot trade with such a man. What does he want? Nothing.
Max: "I'm just here for the gasoline."

A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Tiny Mads make Big Pay

Any fool can get himself killed pursuing a wide-eyed and lunatic adventure that pays a thrill a minute and an early grave but it takes a person with some smarts and a bit of drive to pull off an adventure that saves the world and at the same time makes a pile of cold cash. What with the price of gas these days, being a road warrior means one has to make it pay just to fuel the project.

If I were a man who wanted adventure and a patriotic cause to fight for, I'd join the Marines. If I were a man who wanted adventure, a patriotic cause, and a pot full of bucks, I'd consider something different. I'd look at which is the world's biggest worst arsehole nation, and then I'd look to see if they owe a big debt to us. I'd see them clearly, plan to make a whack of cash hurting them, and I'd make sure I didn't piss-off my native government. Tall order, which is why not everyone is doing it all the time.

I'd look for some evil bad-guy nation, and I'd hurt them in a really tiny way. I'd look for the smallest thing I could do to hurt the place. The smaller the thing I could think of the better I'd like it. That's why I have such trouble with Hillary Clinton suggesting she'd annihilate Iran if they were to attack Israel; why I spit at the idea of Barak Obama threatening to invade Pakistan; Tom Tancredo threatening to melt Mecca. Is there a dime of profit in that? Even worse, is it small enough to actually happen? I think these grand schemes are nonsense. I look at the smallest thing possible as the likeliest to happen successfully. But where's the cash at the end of the day? Polish the knob all one likes, either there's a tangible pay-off or it was a nasty waste of effort better forgotten and not repeated.

This guy claims to be the Lord Humungous, the ayatollah of rock and rolla. Love this line:

Humungus: "We do it my way... Fear is our ally... The gasoline will be ours... then you shall have your revenge!"

He didn't, as I recall from watching Mad Max, get around to "Death to the Jooos" and "Allahu Akbar." Nor do I recall Max making any money for all his efforts.

Here's the run-down, as it were, on the movie:

The story is set in Australia in the near future, depicting a poorly-funded police unit called the Main Force Patrol (MFP), which struggles to protect the Outback's few remaining townspeople from violent motorcycle gangs. The film depicts the future Australia as a bleak, dystopian and impoverished society that is facing a breakdown of civil order, the causes of which are not detailed in this film but which Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior explains as being caused by widespread oil shortages....

Filled with a burning, obsessive anger, Max once again dons his leather police outfit and straps on his sawn-off shotgun. Driving the supercharged, black Pursuit Special, he goes out to avenge the death of his family. He hunts down and kills the gang members one by one, including the Toecutter. When Max finds Johnny the Boy, he handcuffs his ankle to a wrecked, overturned vehicle with a ruptured gas tank. Max lights a crude time-delay fuse and gives Johnny a hack saw, leaving him the choice of trying to saw through the handcuffs (10 minutes) or his ankle (five minutes). Over Johnny's hysterics, an embittered Max drives off into the desolate Outback as the fuse he constructed explodes behind him, presumably killing Johnny.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mad_Max

I got a kick out of the movie when I saw in many years ago, but I didn't rush off to Australia to be a vigilante. The work might be fun and interesting and might give one a chance to meet interesting people and, yes, you may kill them; but really, where's the pay-off in a job with a such terrible pension plan? Call me a bourgeois philistine, but I sort of look at the bottom line in cases like this. Otherwise I'll just keep it at the movie theatre.