BBC Radio 1
rolled its One Big Weekend festival into Derry Londonderry (54
degrees North, 7 degrees West) as part of the UK City of Culture
2013 programme and went spectacular.
In
societies dominated by modern conditions of production, life is
presented as an immense accumulation of spectacles.
Everything that was directly lived has receded into a
representation.
Ellie Goulding
sang 'Anything Could Happen'.
And
indeed it could.
Ain't
got no mother, ain't got no culture
Ain't
got no friends, ain't got no schooling
Ain't
got no love, ain't got no name
Ain't got no
ticket, ain't got no token
It is the nature
of big weekend festivals that the many more people who do not get
tickets are disappointed. Some saw the acts perform in a
live-streaming organised by local community groups well away from
the festival site.
Following
the weekend, media reports are ecstatic. The event is hailed as a
major success. The sight of young people – at least some of them
- smiling and enjoying themselves – at least for a weekend –
is hailed as a triumph.
And
it is.
Can
it be sustained? Can the resources poured into the city to bring
off the weekend festival by the BBC, Derry City Council, Police
Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI), Search, Fire and Rescue
bodies, ambulance and hospital services, stewarding organisations
and many other dispensers of public money, be gathered and spent
again in the city?
Not
likely.
There
were efforts made by shops, hotels and bars and others to capture
some of the spare cash brought by the 40 000 people who attended,
as well as the jet-setting stars and their crews, thus
capitalising on the massive outlay of public funds.
Is
this the business model?
The spectacle
presents itself as a vast inaccessible reality that can never be
questioned. Its sole message is: “What appears is good; what is
good appears.” The passive acceptance it demands is already
effectively imposed by its monopoly of appearances, its manner of
appearing without allowing any reply.
Ain't
got no home, ain't got no shoes
Ain't
got no money, ain't got no class
Ain't
got no skirts, ain't got no sweater
Ain't
got no perfume, ain't got no beer
And
where is the human in all of this?
I
got my heart, I got my soul
I
got my back, I got my sex
I
got my arms, I got my hands
I
got my fingers, Got my legs
I
got my feet, I got my toes
I
got my liver, Got my blood
In the midst of
the lonely crowd, small groups, living within – and enjoying -
the spectacle, as all citizens do, are
also considering moves to bypass it. They are drawn to make, not
only to consume; to be, not only to have; to live, not only to
exist.
The
end of the history of culture manifests itself in two opposing
forms: the project of culture’s self-transcendence within total
history, and its preservation as a dead object for spectacular
contemplation. The first tendency has linked its fate to social
critique.
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