The Trouble with Jauss

I have studied the works of Hans Rudi Jauss at some depth, I even based a large section of my PhD thesis' arguments on his theories. I probably owe my doctorate in part to him. But I didn't really know what he did during World War Two until recently.

From 1939 to 1945 he was a member of the Waffen SS, declared a criminal organisation at Nuremberg. But what did Jauss have to say for himself in this matter? Just before his death in 1997, he gave an interview to Le Monde - far from an open and unambiguous acknowledgement of responsibility, it seems to be an attempt to blur the lines, and obfuscate or perhaps skip around the issue. This reached almost comical heights, as the following quoted paragraph demonstrates. All footnotes and emphases are mine:

Before I turn to the history of a young German who was seventeen years old when the war started [1], I would like to remind people that there are at least three ways of understanding history [2]: the history that unfolds in the present, in which one finds oneself engaged as an actor; the history into which one finds oneself passively propelled [3], as a witness so to speak; and finally, the history that has taken place and become an object of reflection. When one attempts to examine one’s own past, those three levels may overlap, but recomposition through memory prevails. [4] What persuaded me to enter the Waffen-SS was not really an adherence to Nazi ideology. [5] As the son of a teacher, member of the petty bourgeoisie, I was a young man who wanted to conform with the atmosphere of the time. [6] That said, I had read Spengler’s Decline of the West, written by an author banned by the Nazis, and it had made me skeptical of the Hitlerian empire. [7] But along with other future historians — I’m thinking of my friends Reinhart Koselleck and Arno Borst — what we had in common was the desire not to stand apart from current events. [8] One had to be present in the field, where history was being made, [9] by participating in the war. In our view, to do otherwise would have been to flee, to confine ourselves within an aesthetic attitude, while our comrades of the same age were risking their lives. [10]

[1] Still old enough to know better.
[2] As opposed to what really happened.
[3] Nothing just happens in uniform.
[4] How convenient.
[5] What?
[6] Why didn't you join the Wehrmacht instead?
[7] So skeptical, in fact, that you joined the Waffen SS.
[8] Why not?
[9] And people were being killed.
[10] There's a hell of a difference between a volunteer and a conscript.

Not putting too fine a point about it, the Waffen SS was notable for a whole swathe of war crimes against regular and irregular combatants, in addition to unarmed men, women and children. The blood of millions is on their hands. Not to mention it was home to outfits like the SS-Sturmbrigade Dirlewanger, as lead into battle by a paedophile and which included mass rape, mutilation, immolation and throwing and then bayoneting live babies on its list of extra-curricular activities.

Of course, Jauss himself was imprisoned and then subsequently released without charge. But it's telling that only those conscripted into the Waffen SS after 1943 (often literally at the point of a bayonet) recieve standard veterans' pensions and benefits from the German government. Before then, you were more likely than not a volunteer, like Jauss. He was perhaps keen to distance himself both mentally and ethically from this fact:

The letters from my youth, sent from the front— I couldn’t reread them for a long time. When I finally did reread them, I was caught off guard by a young man who had become a stranger, whom I could not recognize as myself.

But he was that young man. They were not strangers because they were the same person. Another thing Jauss said in that interview was "my experience at the time was compartmentalized and my horizons limited", a state of affairs that arguably persisted to his death. It also applied to me, blinded but not absolved by the narrow focus of the doctoral process. Perhaps that is why Jauss found his home in academia so easily - scholarship, after all, is a selective act of remembering.

Language Use That Really Annoys Me #5 - Euphemisms.

The postman was let go after he upset a differently abled person and said rude things to a person of colour, asking if she wanted to discuss Uganda. He subsequently returned, tired and emotional, and proceeded to make his colleagues pass away in a hail of bullets. I immediately spent a penny in my unmentionables as he pointed the weapon of mass destruction at my head and asked me if I was in some distress. I said yes, at which point the local Police Service applied reasonable force by making him pass away via a major head trauma.

'This was an unfortunate incident!' the police officer said as he pondered the collateral damage inflicted in the process. 'To think I was about to request extraordinary rendition on this illegal combatant!' I agreed wholeheartedly.

Returning home, I decided to have a small tipple in the pub to celebrate and let my hair down. Unfortunately, I let my hair down just a tad too much and had a little accident when my car had a frank exchange of views with a brick wall. I then proceeded to discuss the matter further with the paramedics, accusing one of being vertically challenged and good with colours and the other one a big boned fan of comfortable shoes. See you next tuesday, the male parademic said, as the police service arrived. I was then detained at Her Majesty's Pleasure for a period until eventually I had to discuss the matter with the two naughty boys I shared my cell with.

"You need to expand your consciousness with the food of the Gods", one naughty boy said to me, handing over a jazz cigarette. "Yes, and facilitate alternative lifestyles through non-mainstream distribution channels" said the other, pulling some Columbian Marching Powder out of his chocolate starfish.

Eventually, however, I became unwell and had a nasty accident with some razor blades. Let off early so I could get some help, I found myself in hospital next to a woman with a fuller figure. "Are you in the family way?" I asked coyly. "Nah, dear, I've got f**king stomach cancer" she replied, somewhat tactlessly.

Language Use That Really Annoys Me #4 - The Definite Article.

Now before I start, let's note one thing: I am no climatologist, nor a climate change believer, nor a denier. I simply do not know enough about the matter and presently do not have the time nor the resources to look into the matter with any degree of thoroughness.* One thing I do believe, however, is that the debate has been tainted by politicisation on both sides, with smears, ad hominems and more effort spent on denouncing the other side than actually arguing for one's own view.

With that in mind though, I still think Jonathon Porritt is a t**t. Why? He is hooked on 'The Definite Article'. Now, the definite article is sometimes useful. 'The Queen' or 'The Prime Minister' or 'The Suspect' or 'The President' or 'The Winner' allows one to emphasise the point because an emphasis is needed. However, when you abuse the definite article, to provide a false emphasis that is not appropriate, then you are abusing language to meet your own ends rather than an objective statement of truth. (Which is a tricky thing at the best of times, as I will mention later on.)

The most egregious example of this is the use of the phrase, 'The Science'. Now, it either is or it isn't science, once one applies the proper scientific method, peer review, falsifiability and so on. Science is science is science unless or until you can demonstrate it's not. But giving it the honorific, 'The Science', is to invest in it a sort of divine writ that has no place in the discussion - unless it is being subordinated to a political end.

Enter Porritt. I once had to sit through a hysterical rant from this awful demagogue as part of an audience of upper middle class university employees and functionaries, who clapped blandly away despite him demanding we all start living like it's World War Two again. (His exact words were 'And we must learn to live under WARTIME conditions!!!') They then left the lecture theatre, drove home in their expensive cars, left all the lights on and didn't even stop to consider minor issues like 'cognitive dissonance'. After all, the real pain would be for poorer, less important people, amirite?

Poritt's eyes blazed and his voice almost shrieked as he mentioned those who dared disagree with him, like a trotskyite denouncing class traitors, or more to the point, a sort of museli-guzzling, ethically sourced Oswald Mosely, elevated to prominence because he talks and thinks like the present sawn-off jobsworth government does.

So no, I was not impressed by Porritt. But I realised how much I couldn't stand him when he started making crazed Tony Blair arm gestures, his eyes now practically leaping out of his sockets, as he proclaimed:

'Al Gore isn't a scientist - BUT HE KNOWS THE SCIENCE!!!'

F**king hell. Where does one begin? It's a bit like declaring that my brother's friend 'isn't a gynaecologist, but by golly, HE KNOWS THE FANNY!!!' It is ultimately meaningless as we all sort of know a bit about climate science, and so the statement is true in a vaguely clumsy and inarticulate way. But again, we see the abuse of the definite article to suggest an authority which is not actually there, except as a sort of implied bien pensant enlightenment.

But there is another danger. If, by using the definite article, you esteem 'the science' as a higher authority then you risk undermining science of any sort when 'the science' is called into question. Writing about the recent e-mail controversy at the Climatic Research Unit (CRU) at the University of East Anglia, George Monbiot said: "No one has been as badly let down by the revelations in these emails as those of us who have championed the science [emphasis mine]. We should be the first to demand that it is unimpeachable, not the last."

And here lies 'the problem': science isn't unimpeachable - unless you think that Gallileo, Copernicus and Darwin were right shits for ruining it for everyone. It was never 'impeachable' either. Rather, it is based on what can be observed and the gradual accumulation of knowledge. Put simply, we know more today than we knew yesterday, which doesn't automatically invalidate what we knew before.

Monbiot, to his credit, has always replied to his opponents rather than dismissing them in a torrent of bile, and he has also been direct in facing up to the UEA kerfuffle**. But his abuse of language weakens his cause in the long run. As said, science is a rational process whereby we explore and study our surroundings. It does not equate to 'truth', which is a very subjective and so difficult creature at the best of times. It tells you if something works, how it works and when it works, but it does not explain WHY it works, because you can't scientifically observe an abstract philosophical concept.

If in esteeming 'the science' as the core pillar of your ideology, you then find it compromised or challenged, then you risk not only being on the side of a 'false god' but also undermining science as a concept overall, especially in the eyes of a public that doesn't know the difference between science and 'the science' in the first place. They may be inclined to see the situation, and so any subsequent warning, as that of the environmentalist that cried wolf, regardless of whether you're right or not. The incorrect use of the definite article may therefore, in this case, prove to be very damaging to everyone's health.

* Having looked into it with that aforementioned thoroughness, I find myself fully in agreement with those who are sounding the alarm. Except Porritt and Gore for reasons given in this article which still stand.
** Which, in the long term, was a storm in a teacup whipped up by the usual suspect denialists.

Language Use That Really Annoys Me #3 - Teenage Girls.

I hate teenage girls. Not enough of them die in wars. Think of all the ickle fluffy bunnies we could save from agonising but necessary medical tests if we used teenage girls instead. They'd get free mascara and most of them like doing weird things to their hair and skin, so it's not exactly a one-sided transaction...

But have you ever been on a train with them? It's Dante's Inferno if he included cheap perfume, desperate attempts to look 'adult' despite still being at school and too much make up. God, they're irritating. So irritating that all of a sudden drinking bleach or being eaten alive by a swarm of ravenous sewer rats seems preferable.

It's how they speak that's really annoying, the excruciating squealing tone that comes from watching too much Hollyoakes or Neighbours or American Teen shlockfests. In this shrill pidgin, one does not go to 'university'. No, one goes to 'YOOOOO-NEEEEEE'. Every exclaimation is 'OH MY GOOOOOOOoooooooooDDDD!'* and their laughter is akin to a really cruel Greek chorus cackling as a cute puppy gets run over by a Deus et Machina Land Rover.

But it's how every f**king sentence has to be a question. 'Hi Emm-AHHHH?' 'Hiya, Denise?' 'We're on a train???' 'So are we?' 'We'll meet at the station?' 'That's a great idea?' 'Love ya, babe?' 'Love you, too, gor-juss?' It's like a gaggle of South Bank intellectuals arguing over whether they actually exist and whether the Jonas Bros. are, like, the cutest boys evvv-aaaaaar.

Everybody thinks that one's teenage years are about rebellion. But as these not-quite-women show, it's really about conformity. Not the beaten down, I've-learned-to-love-the-inland-revenue, oh-shit-I'm-married-and-got-three-kids type of conformity we normally associate with 'the squares', who lost their battle with the Beast long before they even knew they were fighting it.

No, teenage conformity is far worse - they choose to obey, to follow, to think and dress and speak exactly like the rest of whatever grubby little tribe they choose to belong to. 'Teenage Rebellion', that old cliche and crutch for one's own midlife crisis, is a misdiagnosis. The rejection of parental authority is not in favour of some Sodom 'n Gomorrah anarchy, but rather, a far more strident, focussed and vicious obedience to a much more powerful, competent authority. Those girls don't give two farts about what you think about them - because they BELONG, and that means infinitely more than any personal consideration or individual nuance.

And if you don't obey the hormonal Clone-God? You will be singled out. You will be despised. You will be tainted, and You Will Pay for not marching in tune. There is a reason why the Red Guards were mostly students, the Baader Meinhof gang was young and beautiful and why most suicide bombers are young men with their best years still ahead: Only the young can love their masters as much as they do, and HATE their foes with such passion. Piggy always gets lynched by good little tribals, and there is a reason why all those charming chavs and thugs**, of the kind that congregates in large numbers and frighten grown men, all wear the same cut and style of tracksuits and hooded tops and affect the same swagger and menacing, insolent air. They're in uniform and they're on parade.

And in the end, it all comes down to language. The language you use shapes your mind and your actions. It defines you and the company you keep. By definition, any limit you impose on your language is a limit you impose on your own mind, your own decisions and your ability to choose right from wrong. And that's what's really wrong with ghastly teenage girls. They WANT to be limited and hold in contempt any attempt to improve yourself or have your own thoughts.

But there's going to be a day when I get up, walk across the carriage, stand on the table they're sitting around, whip out my homemade morning star and, while waving it about, sing: "'Girl, You'll Be A Woman, SOOOOooo-ooon...', but only when you can string a sentence together, you foul pubescent wreckers of good syntax." And then, and only then, I will threaten them with certain death if they ever raise the pitch of their voices at the end of a sentence that isn't a question. And it will be a good day. If not for my sanity, or vapid girls in scrunchees and tracksuit bottoms with 'WHORE' printed over the buttocks, then at least for language.



* In this case, Sharnice, the infernal deity of backstabbing, hairdressers, eating disorders and crap taste in music. Alignment: Neutral Evil. Favoured Weapon: Fake Gucci stiletto heel, outside a pub in Central Cardiff on a Saturday night...

** At least teenage girls have an internal life, albeit a really stunted one. Teenage boys, as a rule, haven't quite got past the grunting and saying 'c**t' a lot phase. They seldom develop further, either.

Language Use That Really Annoys Me #2 - Over-Used Cliches.

I hate spoken cliches. When someone says, 'well, y'know, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, and - I'm not being funny but - like, you what I mean?' I want to stab them. In the head, with a tent spike. Or possibly just shoot them. If America is to be hated for anything, it is for the hideous over-use of the term 'what-not'. But then, the French keep going 'alors' and Cheryl 'I sound like Sid The Sexist in Drag' Cole probably intersperses every four f**king words with 'like', so the tendency is universal.

Why? It suggests lazy thinking. People who keep using the same phrases, time and again, are not using that most-complex-structure-in-the-known-universe that occupies their cranium. Their brains are taking short cuts, they are running on autopilot and - worst of all - they're just speaking someone else's words. They are not functioning as people, but as automotons, or jukeboxes playing the greatest verbal hits of someone much more creative.

The worst ones are however created by the individual who then proceeds to overuse them so they never need structure an original sentence again. For example, I knew one idiot who kept using the word 'intransigence' to the point that you had to wonder if that was the first four syllable word they had ever said and their tiny minds couldn't cope with the stress. 'Negative' or 'negativity' is another overused one, as is 'solutions', but so too are potted ideological arguments for people too stupid for ideology, like 'political correctness gone mad!' or 'if you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to fear'. It even has a social cost - think of all those families ruined by 'my house, my rules!' or 'you're not going out dressed like that!'(and so on) vs. 'you don't understand me!' or 'I hate you!' or 'You're So Unfair!'. All too often, we venture into life as individuals with our own thoughts and viewpoints, and yet in the end we are reduced to stock phrases, archetypes and echoes of echoes of echoes, playing out prealloted roles with prealloted dialogue...

Lazy use of cliches is profoundly annoying, but it's also dehumanising too. But, y'know, it's like 'what-evvaaaaar', innit?

Language Use That Really Annoys Me #1 - Bully Language.

I am an irritable ovine at heart, often getting into fights at barn dances with collies that look at my ewe funny. Also annoying are the many ghastly uses of the English language that remain both far too common and not nearly as violently put down as they should be.

For example, there's language that is offensive - for example, calling someone's mother a llama - and then there is language that is just begging for a fight. 'Bully Language' is a good example of the latter.

But what is 'bully language'? It is a phrase or cliche designed to shout down, bellitle or dismiss someone who feels aggrieved. It is often used by people who are insensitive, thuggish or who just like putting other people down.

Examples include 'live with it!', 'suck it up!' and the all-time twat classic, 'buck up your ideas!', usually applied to someone who's suicidal or severely clinically depressed. It is often used politically as well, as a way of rubbing it in and making yourself look like a cock at the same time, e.g., 'Hitler has just won the election. Live with it!' This allows you to appear masterful, no-nonsense and folksy and in control. Oh, and to be an arsehole to people you know won't hit you.

Some defenders of bully language claim it is both common and necessary in warzones. For example, 'get up and fight, you big poof! We'll find your leg later!!!' Somehow, though, it seems a bit disproportionate to invoke the sort of language used on a battlefield when talking to someone whose boyfriend has just dumped them.

But how best to counter bully language? Face punching is illegal, but it's your word against theirs. And when they're bleeding, you can then reply 'live with it!' while laughing at your own ironic wit. However, the old reliable response of 'Go f**K yourself!' is an acceptable substitute. And if they don't like it, they too will have to 'suck it up', 'buck up their ideas' etc.

True Blood vs. Twilight, or 'Cloth vs. Clobber Redux'

Back in days of yore, Loaded magazine (in its James Brown-edited incarnation) was actually worth reading. One article from this era that stood out for me was 'Cloth vs. Clobber', a grand unifying theory that sought to explain all events in history on whether the participants were 'cloth' (as in, affected, individualistic and possibly well-tailored or art student-esque) or 'clobber' (as in, JGB Sports, whatever your mum buys you at Primark, trainers, work clothes, etc.). Put simply, it's Noel Fielding vs. Noel Gallagher, or possibly Zoe Heriot vs. Rose Tyler.

This article has stayed with me ever since. Even now I view the world between these two poles. NATO vs. the Taliban, for example - our boys are obviously clobber because they're all in uniform, wear glorified Doc Martens and drink lots of lager. Whereas, 'The Scholars' are cloth because they all dress like Obi Wan Kenobi and have a thing for mascara and pederasty. You see? It all makes sense now.

Anyway, let's now talk about vampires, or rather, HBO's Deep South haemovore soap, True Blood, and the upcoming vamps 'n werewolves epic, Twilight: New Moon. Again, I refer you to 'Cloth vs. Clobber'. True Blood is plainly clobber, not least because it revolves around the nation's favourite hung up telepath waitress, Sookie Stackhouse, prancing around like a latter day Daisy Duke, right down to the tight but dead common t-shirts and matching shorts. The rest of the cast is also clad in that functional, naively gauche way of many Americans - all jeans, strappy tops, check shirts and Nascar baseball caps. Everyone shags like rabbits and most of the action takes place in the town bar where everyone eats burgers and drinks Budweiser. Even Bill, the in-house brooding vampire, is more akin to a dressed-down Southern Gent than a blood-hungry New Romantic. The fact that Bill's Clan Elder, Eric, looks like he's just been on tour with Opeth notwithstanding, True Blood and its characters are as said most assuredly clobber.

Meanwhile, the Twilight series has just got to be cloth. Wan, winsome teenage virgins listening to Muse and getting lovelorn over a wet prat of a vampire that can't even bring himself to bite/bonk them is proof enough. But if the trailer for the new sequel is anything to go by, we've also got suspiciously well-groomed Byronic Hero werewolves stripped to the waist and looking rather troubled, and a Vampire Court that makes the Borgias look rather understated. It's so cloth, it makes Hot Topic look like Footlocker.

But who prevails? In this case, it has to be clobber. True Blood just seems much more compelling, believable and nuanced, like a living world waiting to explore, whereas the Twilight Saga can only really be seen as a sort of sanitised, simplified romantic smut for tween and teenage girls who want all the vicarious thrills without the grot or nuance of the real thing. So chalk another one up then, clobber. Chavs, rejoice!

NEXT WEEK: Is Being Human the new Rising Damp? Log on next week for the answers!