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A lecture by Vladimir Nabokov on philistinism

Skepsikyma
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1/25/2015 3:00:19 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
An excerpt from 'Lectures of Russian Literature'. Thoughts?

A philistine is a full-grown person whose interests are of a material and commonplace nature, and whose mentality is formed of the stock ideas and conventional ideals of his or her group and time. I have said "full-grown person" because the child or the adolescent who may look like a small philistine is only a small parrot mimicking the ways of confirmed vulgarians, and it is easier to be a parrot than to be a white heron. "Vulgarian" is more or less synonymous with "philistine": the stress in a vulgarian is not so much on the conventionalism of a philistine as on the vulgarity of some of his conventional notions. I may also use the terms genteel and bourgeois. Genteel implies the lace-curtain refined vulgarity which is worse than simple coarseness. To burp in company may be rude, but to say "excuse me" after a burp is genteel and thus worse than vulgar. The term bourgeois I use following Flaubert, not Marx. Bourgeois in Flaubert's sense is a state of mind, not a state of pocket. A bourgeois is a smug philistine, a dignified vulgarian.

A philistine is not likely to exist in a very primitive society although no doubt rudiments of philistinism may be found even there. We may imagine, for instance, a cannibal who would prefer the human head he eats to be artistically colored, just as the American philistine prefers his oranges to be painted orange, his salmon pink, and his whisky yellow. But generally speaking philistinism presupposes a certain advanced state of civilization where throughout the ages certain traditions have accumulated in a heap and have started to stink.

Philistinism is international. It is found in all nations and in all classes. An English duke can be as much of a philistine as an American Shriner or a French bureaucrat or a Soviet citizen. The mentality of a Lenin or a Stalin or a Hitler in regard to the arts and the sciences was utterly bourgeois. A laborer or a coal miner can be just as bourgeois as a banker or a housewife or a Hollywood star.

Philistinism implies not only a collection of stock ideas but also the use of set phrases, cliches, banalities expressed in faded words. A true philistine has nothing but these trivial ideas of which he entirely consists. But it should be admitted that all of us have our cliche side; all of us in everyday life often use words not as words but as signs, as coins, as formulas. This does not mean that we are all philistines, but it does mean that we should be careful not to indulge too much in the automatic process of exchanging platitudes. On a hot day every other person will ask you, "Is it warm enough for you?" but that does not necessarily mean that the speaker is a philistine. He may be merely a parrot or a bright foreigner. When a person asks you "Hullo, how are you?" it is perhaps a sorry cliche to reply, "Fine" ; but if you made to him a detailed report of your condition you might pass for a pedant and a bore. It also happens that platitudes are used by people as a kind of disguise or as the shortest cut for avoiding conversation with fools. I have known great scholars and poets and scientists who in the cafeteria sank to the level of the most commonplace give and take.

The character I have in view when I say "smug vulgarian" is, thus, not the part-time philistine, but the total type, the genteel bourgeois, the complete universal product of triteness and mediocrity. He is the conformist, the man who conforms to his group, and he also is typified by something else: he is a pseudo-idealist, he is pseudo-compassionate, he is pseudo-wise. The fraud is the closest ally of the true philistine. All such great words as "Beauty," "Love," "Nature," "Truth," and so on become masks and dupes when the smug vulgarian employs them. In Dead Souls you have heard Chichikov. In Bleak House you have heard Skimpole. You have heard Homais in Madame Bovary. The philistine likes to impress and he likes to be impressed, in consequence of which a world of deception, of mutual cheating, is formed by him and around him.

The philistine in his passionate urge to conform, to belong, to join, is torn between two longings: to act as everybody does, to admire, to use this or that thing because millions of people do; or else he craves to belong to an exclusive set, to an organization, to a club, to a hotel patronage or an ocean liner community (with the captain in white and wonderful food), and to delight in the knowledge that there is the head of a corporation or a European count sitting next to him. The philistine is often a snob. He is thrilled by riches and rank " "Darling, I've actually talked to a duchess!"

A philistine neither knows nor cares anything about art, including literature " his essential nature is anti-artistic " but he wants information and he is trained to read magazines. He is a faithful reader of the Saturday Evening Post, and when he reads he identifies himself with the characters. If he is a male philistine he will identify himself with the fascinating executive or any other big shot " aloof, single, but a boy and a golfer at heart; or if the reader is a female philistine " a philistinette " she will identify herself with the fascinating strawberry-blonde secretary, a slip of a girl but a mother at heart, who eventually marries the boyish boss. The philistine does not distinguish one writer from another; indeed, he reads little and only what may be useful to him, but he may belong to a book club and choose beautiful, beautiful books, a jumble of Simone de Beauvoir, Dostoevski, Marquand, Somerset Maugham, Dr. Zbivago, and Masters of the Renaissance. He does not much care for pictures, but for the sake of prestige he may hang in his parlor reproductions of Van Gogh's or Whistler's respective mothers, although secretly preferring Norman Rockwell.

In his love for the useful, for the material goods of life, he becomes an easy victim of the advertisement business. Ads may be very good ads " some of them are very artistic " that is not the point. The point is that they tend to appeal to the Philistine's pride in possessing things whether silverware or underwear. I mean the following kind of ad: just come to the family is a radio set or a television set (or a car, or a refrigerator, or table silver " anything will do). It has just come to the family: mother clasps her hands in dazed delight, the children crowd around all agog: junior and the dog strain up to the edge of the table where the Idol is enthroned; even Grandma of the beaming wrinkles peeps out somewhere in the background; and somewhat apart, his thumbs gleefully inserted in the armpits of his waistcoat, stands triumphant Dad or Pop, the Proud Donor. Small boys and girls in ads are invariably freckled, and the smaller fry have front teeth missing. I have nothing against freckles (in fact I find them very becoming in live creatures) and quite possibly a special survey might reveal that the majority of small American-born Americans are freckled, or else perhaps another survey might reveal that all successful executives and handsome housewives had been freckled in their childhood. I repeat, I have really nothing against freckles as such. But I do think there is considerable philistinism involved in the use made of them by advertisers and other agencies. I am told that when an unfreckled, or only slightly freckled, little boy actor has to appear on the screen in television, an artificial set of freckles is applied to the middle of his face. Twenty-two freckles is the minimum: eight over each cheekbone and six on the saddle of the pert nose. In the comics, freckles look like a case of bad rash. In one series of comics they appear as tiny circles. But although the good cute little boys of the ads are blond or redhaired, with freckles, the handsome young men of the ads are generally dark haired and always have thick dark eyebrows. The evolution is from Scotch
"The Collectivist experiment is thoroughly suited (in appearance at least) to the Capitalist society which it proposes to replace. It works with the existing machinery of Capitalism, talks and thinks in the existing terms of Capitalism, appeals to just those appetites which Capitalism has aroused, and ridicules as fantastic and unheard-of just those things in society the memory of which Capitalism has killed among men wherever the blight of it has spread."
- Hilaire Belloc -
Skepsikyma
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1/25/2015 3:01:42 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
The rich philistinism emanating from advertisements is due not to their exaggerating (or inventing) the glory of this or that serviceable article but to suggesting that the acme of human happiness is purchasable and that its purchase somehow ennobles the purchaser. Of course, the world they create is pretty harmless in itself because everybody knows that it is made up by the seller with the understanding that the buyer will join in the make-believe. The amusing part is not that it is a world where nothing spiritual remains except the ecstatic smiles of people serving or eating celestial cereals, or a world where the game of the senses is played according to bourgeois rules, but that it is a kind of satellite shadow world in the actual existence of which neither sellers nor buyers really believe in their heart of hearts " especially in this wise quiet country.

Russians have, or had, a special name for smug philistinism " poshlust. Poshlism is not only the obviously trashy but mainly the falsely important, the falsely beautiful, the falsely clever, the falsely attractive. To apply the deadly label of poshlism to something is not only an esthetic judgment but also a moral indictment. The genuine, the guileless, the good is never poshlust. It is possible to maintain that a simple, uncivilized man is seldom if ever a poshlust since poshlism presupposes the veneer of civilization. A peasant has to become a townsman in order to become vulgar. A painted necktie has to hide the honest Adam's apple in order to produce poshlism.

It is possible that the term itself has been so nicely devised by Russians because of the cult of simplicity and good taste in old Russia. The Russia of today, a country of moral imbeciles, of smiling slaves and poker-faced bullies, has stopped noticing poshlism because Soviet Russia is so full of its special brand, a blend of despotism and pseudo-culture; but in the old days a Gogol, a Tolstoy, a Chekhov in quest of the simplicity of truth easily distinguished the vulgar side of things as well as the trashy systems of pseudo-thought. But poshlists are found everywhere, in every country, in this country as well as in Europe " in fact poshlism is more common in Europe than here, despite ourAmerican ads.
"The Collectivist experiment is thoroughly suited (in appearance at least) to the Capitalist society which it proposes to replace. It works with the existing machinery of Capitalism, talks and thinks in the existing terms of Capitalism, appeals to just those appetites which Capitalism has aroused, and ridicules as fantastic and unheard-of just those things in society the memory of which Capitalism has killed among men wherever the blight of it has spread."
- Hilaire Belloc -
AnDoctuir
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1/25/2015 9:06:19 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
I was actually going to make a post about serving ladies, yesterday; about how they annoy me in their complete robotics; about my trolling them to break them, or having their responses worked to an exact science in order to get what I want by minimal interaction - just for fun. I rather like the old ones, though - how they seem to break from those mechanics and become the watchers themselves, like me, as if taking one last look at life. I put on a show for those ladies; and it's often remarkable how quickly they'll know you, what you're expressing, too. I suppose the serving lady would be a good example of what Nabokov is talking about - where one becomes all a show and so blinds themselves to the art in front of them, denies themselves a proper interaction with it. And it does annoy me, I must say. But, in another way, it's all the same. I mean, it's all an act to an effect, right?

I don't begrudge anyone simple-mindedness - actually I sometimes envy them it. It's like in the finale of The Sopranos: the psychologist reading up on 'criminal psychology', about Tony, an excerpt which decries all intense emotion as but an act: the criminal shows his colours, supposedly, in his sentimentality for animals, in his declarations of love for his family - but it is all just an act, cultivation of faux-righteous indignation. Jesus would have been of 'criminal psychology' by today's standards in fact - and that means exactly that he was not just an empty shell; that he was not driven only by pain and its avoidance. Some of us just come to feel that something greater is owed to us by our act. We leave simple materialism behind, but it's the same mechanics. Nabokov, I think, was somewhat perverse in his conceptions - saw the perverse as 'spirituality'; makes a mockery of the bond between father and daughter. He'd have rather liked Kubrick's films, I think.

But then there are other sorts - the artsy by dint of having all else taken from them. Nietzsche's child, perhaps; but even Nietzsche threw himself down across the horse in the end, for his all his talk, cultivation of reciprocation. No - better Camus than Nietzsche or Nabokov, and Nabokov has slandered Camus as a nonentity too. "Where is the perversion? Why are you not a monstrous vermin like Herr Kafka? All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players - so give it your most perverse!" But some people just come to look at life as beautiful, just because - because they can't find anything else. Some people are simple in what is aesthetic, not pretentious fools. For some of us, sunsets are pretty just because they are - because otherwise the sun would be just a great big burning bastard above us. I mean, the commonplace pretty girl; though perhaps not so common anymore - but the Cordelias, the angels: are they not still sublime in commonality, in their empty-headed prettiness? Or what real difference between a flower and the white-picket fence which is so romanticised by the simple-minded? Nabokov merely loathes order because he has none of it. Schadenfreude is his sense. He would see demons dance through others. And really that's where we take the most of our individuality, as human beings: in our shortcomings and subsequent compensations. The worst of the world is when you are the runt of the litter; when all humanity is lorded over you as if the smugly divine. And so love is nearly always but self-love. In truth, there is no superiority in aesthetics; there is only yourself. The truest aesthetes are not so as Nabokov was, but perhaps as women in particular are - denied the hand of order-making that man has; left only but to love it or not. Still, serving ladies do annoy me, lol.

I was not common, so I am not common. When it came to my final days in elementary school, there was an uprising against me, for I would leave those I had spent so long with behind. The year before, I had laid down on the grass with a boy from the then-soon-departing year, with whom I had quarreled with for all my schooling years until then, quarreled as if we had been in constant contest for some throne... and it was such a strangeness that I could never forget it: as if I had vanquished him, or he had himself, and only then was there actual appreciation between us - and perhaps he had been a distraction for me too ....It is one of those scenes from my childhood which I would paint, only I know I could not express its true meaning to me by the picture alone. It was a blink of complete wakefulness. And still everything that I am is not to that - though that did certainly inspire in me some appreciation - but to the simple: a wife, a daughter, flowers ....Is this philistine? I want exactly the life of my simple-minded uncle - a golfer no less: his wife, his daughter, his flowers. Michael is his name - "Who is like God?" Don't tell me I'm not a real aesthete.
Skepsikyma
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1/25/2015 10:18:15 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 1/25/2015 11:59:32 AM, AnDoctuir wrote:
I despise Nabokov, to be honest. He was a genius no doubt, but I despise him.

Lol, I was thinking of using an excerpt from Pale Fire for the last round of our debate ;).

I admire Nabokov in a distant, alienated way. He described, in one of his books, his written worlds as an oasis in the desert, with the gates closed to any caravans or travellers. He was a closed system, a harsh system, yet by looking out he developed an especially keen insight. And I think that he actually agrees with you about simple people: "It is possible to maintain that a simple, uncivilized man is seldom if ever a poshlust since poshlism presupposes the veneer of civilization. A peasant has to become a townsman in order to become vulgar. A painted necktie has to hide the honest Adam's apple in order to produce poshlism."
"The Collectivist experiment is thoroughly suited (in appearance at least) to the Capitalist society which it proposes to replace. It works with the existing machinery of Capitalism, talks and thinks in the existing terms of Capitalism, appeals to just those appetites which Capitalism has aroused, and ridicules as fantastic and unheard-of just those things in society the memory of which Capitalism has killed among men wherever the blight of it has spread."
- Hilaire Belloc -
AnDoctuir
Posts: 11,060
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1/25/2015 10:36:06 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 1/25/2015 10:18:15 PM, Skepsikyma wrote:
At 1/25/2015 11:59:32 AM, AnDoctuir wrote:
I despise Nabokov, to be honest. He was a genius no doubt, but I despise him.

Lol, I was thinking of using an excerpt from Pale Fire for the last round of our debate ;).

I admire Nabokov in a distant, alienated way. He described, in one of his books, his written worlds as an oasis in the desert, with the gates closed to any caravans or travellers. He was a closed system, a harsh system, yet by looking out he developed an especially keen insight. And I think that he actually agrees with you about simple people: "It is possible to maintain that a simple, uncivilized man is seldom if ever a poshlust since poshlism presupposes the veneer of civilization. A peasant has to become a townsman in order to become vulgar. A painted necktie has to hide the honest Adam's apple in order to produce poshlism."

I don't think we're in agreement, Skep, but I have to admit that the man was with keen insight. :P

His seems a distaste for the dilution of his craft; mine was to show him for the same. He found himself delightfully insane - the real art.
AnDoctuir
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1/25/2015 10:53:20 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
In fairness, I know some "philistines" who annoy the f*ck out of me too. But for me, it's like looking into a mirror. Or the abyss.