Friday, 17 May 2013

READING STRAW DOGS BY JOHN GRAY



Straw Dogs is the title of a Sam Peckinpah film and of a book by John Gray.

John Gray is professor of European Thought at The London School of Economics, London (51 degrees North, 0 degrees West). The reader observes, after finishing Straw Dogs, that John Gray doesn't think much of European thought.

Straw Dogs is a brisk, lively, yet curiously enervating read, a vivid swirl through philosophy, animal behaviour and popular culture.

Gray is a big fan of arch-pessimist Schopenhauer.

Like other animals, we are embodiments of universal Will, the struggling suffering energy that animates everything in the world.

Gray is good when quoting voraciously from, and commenting quirkily upon, the work of dead philosophers. He has a winning Sunday paper/colour supplement style, used to telling effect in snatches of writing that are robust and catchy. It is highly readable pop-philosophy at its best, especially when nailing the myth of perpetual progress.

The idea of progress is only the longing for immortality given a techno-futurist twist.

The technological pursuit of immortality is not a scientific project. It promises what religion has always promised – to give us freedom from fate and chance.

Gray is astutely accurate in his delineation of the cult of Christianity as the mid-point between Greek philosophy and the Enlightenment in the series of myths we use to make sense of the here and now and to make some sense of hope and possibility for the future.

After all, there's never been a kingdom given to so much bloodshed as that of Christ.
That's Montesquieu, isn't it?
Oh, really? Who's he?
Somebody well worth reading.

Gray has no time for moral philosophy. The section The Vices of Morality is the most trenchant in the book and he has a right go at Socrates.

We think of morality as set of laws or rules that everyone must obey, and as a special sort of value, which takes precedence over every other.

The reader senses that Gray is less secure when relying on his own invention and concludes that, after all the fireworks and the allusions, Gray is simply a downbeat Malthusian of the old school; every problem in the world is due to over-population and the only solution is the mass annihilation of many of Gray's fellows, which is likely anyway as we are homo rapiens and killing is what we are good at.

The reader notes that Gray does not offer himself, his family, friends and colleagues as members of the species to be taken out. Gray reserves that role for a generalised body referred to as 'the poor', who, as always in such works, are elsewhere, never in the world of the writer.

Images of the Sunday supplement magazine come to the reader's mind. There is a centre fold spread of aching text and stunning photos of the horrors of war, the devastations of famine or the trauma of an industrial catastrophe, such as in Dhaka (23 degrees North, 90 degrees East) recently.

And following this, there is the high-gloss photo of a luxury saloon car or a watch of improbable ostentation or even a grotesquely sleek and powerful racing yacht. The Sunday supplement tells us that believing the dreams of their advertisements is the way to confine the horrors of the world elsewhere. The choice is ours.

All the grand narratives get the Gray treatment and are dismissed: Western and Eastern philosophies (the Eastern ones, especially Chinese and Japanese, fare slightly better), the Homeric Greek ideas, the Socratic Greek ideas, Christianity, the Enlightenment, Marxism, Fascism and Stalinism.

Notably, the current dominant narrative - a globalised casino-capitalism – is not treated quite so forcefully. This surprises the reader given that Gray works in an academic institution which has as a motto rerum cognoscere causa (to know the cause of things). As ever, what you see depends on where you look from.

The reader plans to read Gray's first book: False Dawn: The Delusions of Global Capitalism and notes that it is not sufficient to base everything on contingency and a deterministic, cyclical, even downwardly spiralling, fate, drawing us to destruction.

We are contingent, rapacious, social animals, with choices, if not purposes and aims.

The reader is left wanting more than Gray's concluding note.

Can we think of the aim of life as being simply to see?

What you see depends on where you stand. Gray's vantage is metropolitan, academic and wealthy.

His book is stirring, readable and the epitome of I'm-alright-jackery.



Straw Dogs: book; John Gray; Granta Books: London; 2002
Straw Dogs: film; Sam Peckinpah; ABC Pictures; Los Angeles; 1971



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