Parenti’s lectern was
a launchpad
from which
he’d shoot
communist
missiles at
an empire
that’s trying
to quiet him.
May we keep
his wit and love
for the low alive.
Category: imperialism
‘The Great Lecture Hall and the Small Seminar Room: Michael Parenti Vs. Western Marxism,’ from Weaponized Information
RIP Michael Parenti.
‘Secrets of the Greenland File,’ from Dennis Riches’s Blog
Trump should not be seen as an aberration in American politics, but as the culmination of it, as this article demonstrates.
Burn
To take a pic
of Khamenei
& kiss it with
a smoke’s lit end is
not any plea
for freedom.
To take, instead, the red, white, and blue,
or that flag with the blue star on the blue
and white, and then torch it with a touch
of fire makes all Iranians far, far freer.
Analysis of ‘Friday the 13th’
I’m going to focus on the first two films of the franchise, since I’m primarily concerned with the relationship between Pamela Voorhees (Betsy Palmer) and her son, Jason, as well as the implications I see in it. Also, by the third film, the format for all of them has been established, and has thus become too redundant to go over the storyline of every movie.
We all know the format: either Jason or his mother (or copycat killer Roy Burns), violently kills off a number of young adults at or near Camp Crystal Lake, or at Chris Higgins‘s local homestead, or in a halfway house where Tommy Jarvis is, or in Manhattan, or in a spacecraft in the future, or in the Springwood, Ohio setting of the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise. Where the killings happen doesn’t really matter, as it’s all just an indulgent blood-fest, typically with the final girl trope.
Let’s be frank: the films are good mindless fun and entertainment (emphasis on mindless), but the critics are right to deride them. They’re schlocky slasher films, intended only to capitalize on the success of far superior slasher films like Halloween, Black Christmas, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, or Psycho, the sequels even more so meant to capitalize on the success of the first Friday the 13th.
Still, however, there must be a way to explain how popular these films are with the masses so that one doesn’t insult the intelligence of Friday‘s fans. I’d like to attempt such an explanation, with an understanding that the basic elements are there, if so unconsciously, to make a good premise…if only the execution, as well as the development of the themes I’m about to discuss, was done better, without such an emphasis on just kill, kill, kill…ma, ma, ma.
I’m a strong believer in the power of the unconscious mind, and while I’m sure the screenwriters of these movies only consciously meant to create simple stories of a killer on a bloody rampage, with the intent of gaining maximum box office success, I believe there are archetypal elements deep inside the collective psyche that got put into these films (especially the first few, before things got too self-indulgent) regardless of conscious intent.
To uncover what these elements are, we first need to examine the motives behind Pamela’s and Jason’s bloodlust. In dialectical contrast to their murderous hatred of anyone they meet, they have the deepest, most intense mother/son love you could imagine…and mother/son love has already been traditionally idealized as the greatest love of all.
The evil comes in, however, when we consider how the love of this mother/son dyad is a narcissistic one, based on a feeling that each of them is just an extension and mirror-reflection of the other. The two are trapped in Lacan‘s Imaginary, incapable of and unwilling to go out into the healthier social and cultural world of the Symbolic. Hence, anybody else out there, the Other rather than the other, is just to be killed.
Other rationalizations for the killings include a moral abomination of the ‘sinfulness’ of the camp counsellors–enjoying premarital sex, smoking weed, the public indecency of playing strip Monopoly or wandering around outside in one’s panties. Tied to this sinfulness is a belief that the children at summer camp won’t be adequately watched–hence, Jason’s drowning.
Thus, Camp Crystal Lake must never be reopened, and any attempt to do so by these sinful camp counsellors will necessitate their deaths. OK, apart from the Lacanian stuff I mentioned above, we all know this–I’m just reviewing the basics here…but what does it all mean?
Here’s where my interpretation comes in. Now, since art, properly understood, is a dialogue between the artist and the audience–not just an artist saying his or her ‘only meaning’ for the creation, but a meaning evolved and developed between the artist and audience through a back-and-forth of creation and interpretation–I feel free to interpret the meaning of these movies in my way. (I also hope my interpretation can elevate the movies a bit…if at all possible.) Here goes…
Ever notice how Jason could be heard as a pun on Jesu (as in “Joy of Man’s Desiring”)? You should see where I’m going with this, Dear Reader.
Note how the superstition behind Friday the 13th is associated with the Last Supper, in which Judas Iscariot is often considered the 13th guest, and the day after was Good Friday, when Christ was killed. Judas betrayed Jesus, as the camp counsellors betrayed Jason (in his mother’s opinion, at least).
Camp Crystal Lake (the name being a pun on Christ) can be associated with the Garden of Eden, where sin lost us paradise. Naked Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit has been seen as symbolic of sex, just like the camp counsellors taking off their clothes and going about publicly in their underwear (think of Genesis 2:25), or having sex. If Adam and Eve eat of that fruit, on that day they shall surely die (Genesis 2:17); they die metaphorically on that day, losing their innocence; the counsellors die literally on that day for publicly undressing, having sex, and smoking pot. Steven Christy (Peter Brouwer), who would suffer the little children to come unto him (Mark 10:14), that is, to come to his summer camp, has a surname that is another pun on Christ.
The point I’m trying to make here, which should be obvious to you by now, Dear Reader, is that Mrs. Voorhees and her son are a perverse Madonna and Child. That deep love between a mother and her son is epitomized in all of that old Christian iconography.
By seeing Jason as an evil Jesus, I’m not calling him the Antichrist of the Book of Revelation (Go to this horror movie for that.). I mean instead that Jason and his mother, in murdering sinners rather than preaching repentance and forgiving them, represent the oppressive, authoritarian aspects of the Church. Jesus saves, but Jason slays. Some call Mary the Co-redeemer, but Pamela Voorhees is, if you will, the Co-reddener.
If Camp Crystal Lake is the Garden of Eden, then she and her son also represent the cherubim, their knives, axes, and machetes representing the flaming sword to keep the sinners out of paradise (Genesis 3:24). The purity and innocence of the place must be protected from fornicators and pot-heads, for the sake of children like Jason.
The rationalization for the Voorhees terror, therefore, is to protect children from danger and death, yet this ‘protection’ hypocritically involves danger and death. The Voorhees’s ‘Church’ is really just a front for the most reactionary of conservative thinking. The camp counsellors aren’t even moderate leftists: they’re just liberals who want to be able to relax and have a good time every now and then. Pamela, like any far right-winger, expects the staff of Camp Crystal Lake to be working non-stop to ensure the safety of the kids. If the staff slacks off at all, then like Amon Göth, she’ll pick them off one by one, but with a knife or axe instead of a rifle.
When I speak of a ‘perverse Madonna and Child,” I don’t mean it as a comment on religion and spirituality per se, but as representative of reactionary, conservative authoritarian thinking, how religion is used (if only symbolically in these movies) to justify power and control over others. The year the first film came out, in 1980, as well that of as its first sequel, 1981, is fitting given these were the first of the reactionary Reagan/Thatcher years.
Going into the mid-1980s, there was a debate on CNN’s Crossfire about whether or not PMRC censorship of popular music’s racier lyrics was valid; opposed to it, Frank Zappa also warned of the US moving in the direction of what he called a “fascist theocracy.” The two conservatives he was debating scoffed at him, but he didn’t say the US was already a fascist theocracy at the time: he said that “the Reagan administration…[was] steering us right down that pipe.” (Reagan, incidentally, had fundamentalist Christian beliefs and supported the religious right.)
Well, look at the US today, under Trump, with Roe vs Wade overturned (to protect the unborn child, ostensibly, but actually to curb ‘fornication’ and to control women’s reproductive systems), and with masked ICE men violently removing people from the ‘Camp Crystal Lake,’ if you will, of the US, and shooting in the face anyone who resists. How like Jason’s violence, with his goalie mask and murder weapons.
The notion of the deep love and connection between Mary and the Christ child is not, of course, limited to Christianity. Pagan notions of a mother-goddess and her son/consort abounded in the ancient world, in such forms as Isis and Horus. The relationship is archetypal…and narcissistic. Robert Graves dealt with the idea in The White Goddess when he said, “Woman worships the male infant, not the grown man: it is evidence of her deity, of man’s dependence on her for life.” Pamela’s undying love for Jason, which involved an unending quest to find new victims in whom to avenge his death, is an extension of her own narcissism.
Similarly, Jason in the sequels saw in his mother a metaphorical mirror of himself. He endlessly avenges her death, with new victims, as she did his. She and he are spiritually inseparable, just as the authoritarian leader and his mindless, jackbooted soldiers are, as ICE are for the US government. Properly understood, the son is virtually indistinguishable from the mother (at least in terms of will and motivation, if not in terms of other things, which I’ll go into soon enough), just as the mindless ICE agents do only the will of their fascist government, with no individual will of their own, obeying orders uncritically.
So indistinguishable is Mrs. Voorhees from Jason that at the beginning of Scream, Casey Becker (Drew Barrymore) confuses mother with son, incorrectly naming Jason as the killer in the first Friday movie and forgetting that he didn’t show up until the sequels. The same “ki, ki, ki, ma, ma, ma” echoed, reverberated whispering is heard in most of the films, regardless of whether mother or son is the killer.
That whispering–so often misheard as “chi, chi, chi, ha, ha, ha” because of the heavy echo, reverb, and distortion resulting from the whispering of “ki, ki, ki, ma, ma, ma” by film composer Harry Manfredini into a microphone, then running it through an Echoplex machine–is short for “Kill her, Mommy.” Pamela hears Jason saying this over and over in her head, her imitating the child’s high-pitched voice as she chases Alice Hardy (Adrienne King) during the climax of the first film. There are variations on the whispering in the sequels: in Part Two, for example, one usually hears only “ki, ki, ki,” and only occasionally “ma, ma, ma.”
The sameness or variation in the whispering doesn’t ultimately matter: the continuity underlines how Jason and his mother are spiritually, if not materially, one and the same person. The same is true of the ruling class and their thuggish soldiers (as I see them represented by the murderous mother and son), who often use religion and its priggish morality to justify their authoritarian grip on power.
So, when Mrs. Voorhees dies, Jason is to take over the killing duties. Accordingly, two months after her decapitation by Alice, Jason kills her in her kitchen with an ice pick in her temple after she sees the severed head of his mother in her fridge. Just as his mother avenged his death, he avenges hers.
Here’s the problem, though: if Jason never drowned, but she only thought he did (as the story was ret-conned), wouldn’t she have learned he never died soon enough? She had over twenty years to learn. If she knew the whole time, or much of or most of the time, wouldn’t that have deflated her rage enough not to kill (so many)? Also, how was adult Jason able to find where Alice was living?
I propose a different explanation, one that takes into account the Mary/Jesus symbolism discussed above, and which allows for the unavoidable supernatural element in these movies. He was resurrected, given an adult body, and had the clairvoyance to find where Alice was.
Why not resurrected? He was certainly resurrected in a number of the other sequels, and his ability to keep on living after other injuries, ones that should have been fatal, strongly implies supernatural abilities. I’d say Mom raised Jason from the dead, just as God raised Jesus from the dead (Romans 10:9). Similarly, just as the resurrected Christ had a spiritual body (1 Corinthians 15:42-44), one “imperishable” and “raised in power,” not weakness, so does Jason have an imperishable, powerful body, one whose growth to adulthood seems even to have been accelerated.
To get back to “ki, ki, ki, ma, ma, ma…”, who is saying it, really? Does Jason’s ghost say it to his mother in the first film, her imitating his voice as I described it above? In the sequels, does her ghost chant it in Jason’s mind, implying not only a psychic link between the two killers, but also that her chanting “ki, ki, ki, ma, ma, ma” in his mind’s ear means she’s calling him “Mommy,” thus further cementing my idea that the identity of the two is of only one spiritual presence?
In any case, as we know, Jason doesn’t talk at all: his voice is in his murder weapons (recall that amusing guest appearance he made on the Arsenio Hall Show to promote Jason Takes Manhattan).
His muteness, from a psychoanalytic viewpoint, is linked to his social isolation. Recall what I said above about his dyadic relationship with his mother, as a reflection of his being stuck in the narcissism of the Imaginary Order. To enter the social and cultural world of the Symbolic, one must use language. The Symbolic is the healthy world of human relationships.
That a deformed, mentally disabled child would have extreme difficulties being a part of the Symbolic and joining normal society would be an understatement. His drowning in the lake complicates matters further: it’s representative of not only never leaving the Imaginary, but also of being trapped in the traumatic, undifferentiated, inexpressible Chaos of Lacan’s Real Order.
The non-differentiated, formlessness of the lake is symbolic of the cosmic ocean, where all begins and ends (i.e., the Great Flood; consider also the rain storm in the first film as associated with the Deluge, after which the ‘sons of God’ lay with the ‘daughters of men’…that is, fornicated). Jason died in the lake, and Alice’s Carrie-like nightmare of him coming up at her in the boat and pulling her down in the water is also to be associated with the cosmic ocean as bringing us all back to death at the end of the world.
Just as Jason has supernatural abilities as I described above, and just as his mother is intolerant of sexual indulgence, so were Carrie and her religious fanatic mother respectively, hence how fitting it was to add Alice’s Carrie-like nightmare to the end of the first movie. As for Part III‘s ending, it’s fitting for Chris Higgins (Dana Kimmell) to have a similar nightmare of Mrs. Voorhees coming up from the water and dragging her from her boat into it, even though Chris doesn’t seem to know (oddly, considering how close she is to Camp Crystal Lake) who Jason or his mother are. The point is that it further reinforces how Jason and his mother are one, especially in the undifferentiated, traumatizing Chaos-Real of the water.
At the climax of Part II, Ginny Field (Amy Steel) discovers Jason’s shrine of his mother (how like one of these, if you will!), with her severed head. Knowing the ‘legend’ of him seeing Alice decapitate his mother and him seeking revenge (as she had for him), Ginny stands before Pamela’s head to block its view from Jason, her wearing Pamela’s old sweater. Using her wits and knowledge of child psychology, Ginny takes a gamble impersonating Mrs. Voorhees, appealing to his sense of filial duty and obedience to his mother (“Jason, Mother is talking to you!”). The only human relationship he can understand is one of power and authority. The only reason he’ll listen to her, and not kill her, is that she, as his mother (and also as a reflection/extension of himself), has absolute power over him.
Mindless killers like him (police, the military, ICE, etc.) similarly see human relationships only in this hierarchical sense. If you’re ‘beneath’ me, I can beat and kill you; if you’re ‘above’ me, you can beat and kill me. There is no sense of reciprocity, no mutuality, no connection, no communication.
Within my framework of Jason and his mother as a perverse version of Jesus and Mary, it’s ironic that ‘the Word made flesh’ speaks no words in these movies. (“Ki, ki, ki, ma, ma, ma” would just be the voice of a ghost ringing in his head, not him talking.) Instead, Jason, in his Oedipal relationship with Mrs. Voorhees, speaks only in the primitive, pre-verbal form of communication–as Wilfred Bion conceptualized it–of projective identification and negative containment (as symbolized by all the stabbings and slashing).
Normally, a mother contains her baby’s agitations and distress through a soothing process Bion called maternal reverie. The container, ♀︎, is yonic in symbolism; the contained, ♂︎, is phallic. This is a calming, positive containment. In pathological parent/child relationships, though, as in the case with Pamela and Jason, the containment of the child’s agitations and distress is the opposite of soothing and calming. Traumas aren’t processed–they’re aggravated, intensified, leading to what Bion called a nameless dread…negative containment.
Jason, thus, unable to develop a normal ability to think, to process external stimuli, and to grow in K (knowledge), he cannot speak and express himself verbally. He can only communicate in that primitive, non-verbal way, which involves projecting onto other people. And since all he can communicate is projections of pain, he does so through negative containment, in which the phallic contained is a knife, machete, axe, or pitchfork, and the yonic container is a stab or slash wound.
This kind of mindless, violent communication is also typical of the hired thugs of a fascist state. The bloody, brutal way in which we see the victims killed in these movies (as demonstrated by the special makeup effects of people like Tom Savini) also leads, disturbingly, to a desensitization to violence. As I said above, it’s an interesting coincidence how this franchise began in the 1980s, with the rise of Reagan/Thatcher neoliberalism and Zappa’s fears of a movement in the direction of a fascist theocracy, and yet here we are, with at best minimal outrage from politicians at the ongoing Gaza genocide, the murder of Renee Good, the state of perpetual war around the world ever since 9/11, and the kidnapping (on baseless charges) of the president of Venezuela and his wife. Atrocities in the real world have been reduced to mere entertainment.
As the sequels of the franchise go on, we notice that the setting shifts farther and farther away from the Eden of Camp Crystal Lake: first, to places nearby (in the novelization of Part II, Alice has returned to the town of Crystal Lake, where Jason kills her–page 6), then to Tommy Jarvis’s halfway home, then to Manhattan, to a spaceship in the future, to Freddy Krueger’s Springwood…and like Jesus, Jason even harrows hell! By analogy, the American settler-colonial state massacred the Native Americans, then engaged in imperialist war and plunder…often, and to a significant extent at least, killing in the name of Christ.
And just as Jason’s mindless, pointless killings seem to go on and on forever, in all their perpetual brutality, so do those of the US empire, to this day, both locally and internationally.
As I said at the beginning of this analysis, I’m not saying that the writers of the films of this franchise intended the allegory that I’m formulating here; that’s all my invention. They were just dragging out a gore-fest to make a maximum amount of money, which by the way is what capitalism and imperialism by extension are all about. The associations I’m making reflect unconscious ideas we all have floating around in our minds, for such is the heritage of our collective unconscious: religious iconography representing our lofty moral ideals, lashing out violently when those ideals aren’t lived up to, violence as a form of control, self-righteous narcissism, parental authoritarianism expanding into state authoritarianism.
As a result, every day feels like an unlucky day.
What Is Feared of Communism Is Here in Capitalism
I: Introduction
Several weeks before I started writing this post, I shared a meme on Facebook, one whose pro-Soviet content I don’t remember (and which isn’t all that relevant, anyway), but which also got me a troll reaction from some liberal who said, “No Gulags.” This comment is what has inspired the current article.
I’ve already written a number of defenses of communism in such articles as these, as well as a number of criticisms of capitalism, from both my former anarchist and my current ‘tankie’ perspectives, as can be found here. In this article, though, I feel I need to address something different.
There’s always this fear among many in the West, including many on the left: what if we ‘tankies’ are in denial about how the dictatorship of the proletariat will inevitably become totalitarian and oppressive? My answer in this article is that capitalism has already become so. We’d might as well try socialism. What else have we to lose, but our chains?
II: The Forms of Totalitarianism
Totalitarianism, tyranny, an oppressive state–whatever you want to call it–takes on many forms. I’ll list off pretty much the main forms here. First, and most obviously, totalitarianism discards these:
–a free press
–freedom of speech, and
–democracy
Then, with its intrusive government, we start to go into totalitarianism’s harsher forms:
–cults of personality
–surveillance, and
–police brutality
Finally, we come to the most horrifying forms:
–concentration camps, and
–mass murder, or genocides
Communism, of course, has been accused of perpetrating all of the above. Fascism, even more obviously (or, at least it should be more obvious), has been genuinely guilty of all of these. The horseshit horseshoe theory would have you believe that the extreme left and extreme right are similar in having supposedly led to the same outcomes, leaving liberal democracy as the only viable alternative.
A far more accurate representation of the relationship between the left, centre, and right, however, would be the fishhook theory, in which we can see liberal centrism backsliding into fascism. Recall Stalin’s words on the subject: “Social-democracy is objectively the moderate wing of fascism.” Note in this connection that social democracy is as left-leaning as liberals get; the rest of liberalism moves only further rightward.
A casual observation of Western politics, especially from the dissolution of the USSR to the present day, should demonstrate the truth of Stalin’s words. First, liberals demonized communism in lockstep with conservatives. Then, declaring an “end of history” with communism’s demise and the “free market” as the only viable system, liberals helped to chip away at social welfare, since there was no longer any fear of socialist revolution. Finally, as leftist agitation revives, they’ve used fascism to thwart it.
And here we are.
One must take seriously the notion of a fear of communism, through its association with the atrocities listed above, to understand the great lengths to which right-wingers will go to defend capitalism. Note that these right-wingers are usually of the petite bourgeoisie, the useful idiots of the ruling class, whose real reason for fearing communism is the loss of their wealth; so they fear monger in the media they own to tell the middle and lower classes about communist ‘atrocities.’
As a result, the conservative and liberal masses will tolerate any horrors that go on in our society today so as to prevent a resurgence of socialism. If the poor are so bad off, it’s because they’re lazy, talentless, incompetent ‘losers,’ or they waste money that they should be saving. Never mind that class mobility is a myth. People generally stay in the class they were born in.
When one tries to tell these bootlickers of the rich that the root of the problem of the poor is systemic, the inevitable result of capitalism, they claim that our political problems stem from ‘corporatism,’ because apparently, ‘real capitalism’ and the government are mutually-exclusive antitheses of each other. Never mind that capitalists have always used the state to protect their private property interests: that’s what the cops are for.
Even today’s boot-lickers of the rich cannot deny that the political system, especially that of the past twenty-five years or so, has been nothing less than an unmitigated disaster, one that continues to get worse and worse. What they cannot bring themselves to admit is that this disaster has been the result of the neoliberal experiment, which is a subordination of everything, the government in particular, to the Almighty Market. Hence the need to describe our growing totalitarianism as ‘socialist,’ even when it should be obvious to anyone with half a brain that the current system is anything but socialist.
Politicians on both sides of the political fence accuse each other of being ‘communist.’ Trump and his administration spew constant verbal flatulence about the dangers of ‘radical Marxist extremists,’ when if anything, even among today’s progressives, Western Marxism is practically moribund. Liberals are similar, with Kamala Harris bizarrely calling Trump a ‘communist.’ At first, this comment just seems to be yet another air-headed one from her; yet on closer inspection, we can see how its purpose was really to associate today’s totalitarianism with communism rather than with its true source–fascism.
Her Democratic Party has also joined Republicans in issuing a blanket condemnation of socialism just before Trump’s meeting with ‘socialist’ Zohran Mamdani. This bipartisan fear of socialist ‘totalitarianism’ is bogus given their recent embrace of fascist totalitarianism, as I’ll attempt to prove below. Their real fear, as I mentioned above, is the plan to have workers take control of the means of production, and therefore to take the excess wealth of the billionaire class and redistribute it among the masses. Such a taking of wealth is a taking of power from the ruling class.
But let’s now look at all of the ways that capitalism has turned totalitarian.
III: No More Free Press
This loss didn’t come about in one fell swoop (i.e., with Trump). It started decades ago, and gradually got worse before we came to where we are today. While the mainstream Western media has always been bourgeois in ideology, we can see the beginnings of this particular problem with the abolition of the fairness doctrine in 1987. Introduced in 1949, the fairness doctrine was a policy requiring the media to present controversial issues of importance from differing points of view. Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the demise of the Eastern Bloc would come not too many years since the abolition of this policy, it’s easy to see how the already anti-communist stance of the media during the Cold War would become even more insistently pro-capitalist after that.
Next came the Telecommunications Act that Clinton signed into law in 1996, which allowed mergers and acquisitions in the American media, leading to today’s control of about 90% of the US media by only six corporations. This change thus means that most of Americans’ access to information is decided by the ruling class, and therefore reflecting their agenda and interests. There’s an international networking of media to tell essentially the same stories from largely the same political points of view, so this problem is not limited to the US.
The situation got worse in 2013, when Jeff Bezos bought The Washington Post. Just so there’s no misunderstanding that the centibillionaire supposedly has no interest in the political content in his newspaper, in 2025 he announced that the WaPo would essentially promote right-wing views only, euphemistically worded as defending “personal liberties and free markets.” Well, we all know what conservatives mean when they say that.
Additionally, Elon Musk bought Twitter in 2022, idiotically renaming it “X.” The social media website has also become a haven for right-wing views, which should not be surprising, given its owner’s Nazi salute during Trump’s inauguration and other manifestations of Musk’s far-right leanings.
Indeed, Mint Press News (MPN) published an article in late November of 2025 about how seven oligarchs, including of course Bezos and Musk, are now controlling key elements of the mainstream media. Remember in this connection Mark Zuckerberg’s ownership of Facebook. Larry Ellison is to purchase CNN as of the writing of my article, and CNN has already been partisan to the Democratic Party/liberal wing of the ruling class.
When you have oligarchs like these controlling the average person’s access to information, who needs a state-owned media to brainwash them into compliance (and, incidentally, the presence of ex-FBI agents, ex-CIA officials, ex-generals, and former security state operatives in the news–all of whom work for imperialist capitalism, in case there was any misunderstanding–is enough to make one wonder if American media is anything other than state-owned)? The attendance of elites like Zuckerberg, Bezos, and Musk at Trump’s inauguration should have been sufficiently and disturbingly portentous of things soon to come.
Now, there are still left-wing voices like mine and those in alternative media, like MPN or ChatNews Net, to give the people a dissenting voice, but firstly, our voices get nowhere near the circulation of the establishment ones, and we also get trolled a lot by reactionary types, either the useful idiots of that establishment, or paid trolls whose job is to discourage us from being those necessary ones shouting in the wilderness.
The point is that a stifled free press marks the beginning of totalitarianism, because no free press means no freedom of speech, which brings me to my next topic.
IV: No More Freedom of Speech
The one crowning example of a lack of freedom of speech in recent years has been the suppression of pro-Palestinian protestors on the campsites of American universities. This suppression is of crucial importance, for it is about preventing the one basic thing anyone in a truly democratic society should be given the freedom to do: protest injustice.
Injustice has always been a part of human experience, and overcoming it has sadly never been easy. We should, however, at least be able to talk openly about injustice and make demands that it stop. This is especially true if the injustice is as extreme as an ongoing genocide. If the powers-that-be can suppress the protesting of ethnic cleansing, it will become all the easier to suppress the protests of smaller injustices, which leads to…
V: No More Democracy
Let’s start by defining what democracy actually is. At the risk of sounding pedantic and condescending, I’ll use an etymology you should already know: the word comes from Greek words meaning “people rule.” Now, what does the rule of the people actually entail? Mindless voting for a particular political party, with little thought as to what the real issues are (i.e., “Vote blue, no matter who”)? Or does it mean ensuring that the policies enacted serve the will and interests of regular, working-class people?
I’ll put my money on the latter definition.
Let’s compare, for example, Libya under the rule of Muammar Gaddafi, as contrasted with the years of revolving-door voting for different leaders, say, every four to eight years or so in the US, the UK, Canada, etc. Neoliberalism has, over the past forty to fifty years, eroded economic democracy by crushing unions; it has cut welfare funding and regulations to allow the rich to gain more profit at the expense of the people and the environment; and it has generally immiserated the poor, leading to an epidemic of homelessness. How is any of this power for the people? How is it democratic?
Contrast that with the ‘despotic’ rule of Gaddafi. His Jamahiriya, or Third International Theory, was a kind of Islamic socialism that provided for the basic needs of Libyans throughout the years of his rule of the country. The benefits that his government provided included guaranteed universal housing, education, and health care, as well as free electricity and the free starting of farming businesses, bursaries given to mothers with newborn babies, cheap gas, and the raising of Libyan literacy from 25% to 87%.
How is ‘Western democracy’ better than that?
The notion that Gaddafi was a ‘brutal dictator’ would be based on the idea of his suppressing of anyone opposed to his system of government; but who would have opposed such a system? Anyone opposed to the kind of thing his government was providing, of course–that is, opposed to giving the benefits described above to his people (such opposition would have included Islamic fundamentalists, who were often imprisoned during his rule). I don’t know about you, Dear Reader, but I don’t have much sympathy for those opposed to giving the Libyan people the aforementioned benefits.
My point is that Gaddafi may have been a dictator, but whatever actual objective flaws he may have had, he was by any reasonable standard a benevolent dictator. Why is his having stayed in power for over forty years a problem if he had provided those benefits to his people; whereas having an assembly line–as it were–of presidents or prime ministers who change every half- or full decade or so, but largely serve the rich instead of the ordinary people, is considered more democratic?
Another important point must be considered: are the candidates available to be voted for truly representative of the wishes and interests of ordinary people in Western elections, or are they people chosen–directly or indirectly–by the ruling class, while more truly representative candidates are deliberately marginalized, and therefore unavailable?
As anyone who has read enough of my articles should already know, I am no supporter of Bernie Sanders, but note how not only does he not have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever being elected (let alone of being allowed to tax the rich to gain the revenue needed to pay for the FDR-New-Deal kind of social programs that are so popular among working-class Americans), but he is correctly understood to be a sheepdog for the left. The establishment uses people like him and AOC to sell hope to the masses, then at the last minute, he bows down and tells his crestfallen supporters to vote instead for the newest corporate whore of the Democratic Party. This is by design.
Similarly, because of their left-wing political positions, the Green Party of the United States stands no chance of even being in a position to challenge the corrupt and morally bankrupt two-party system of the US, let alone to win elections and implement their policies.
Anyone with any sense knows that the Democrats and the Republicans are, at best, mere variations on each other, and at worst, two wings of the same party, the Capitalist Party, with virtually identical, imperialist policies. While generally less extreme than in the US, the bourgeois political parties of any country under capitalism are of essentially the same nature.
This sad state of affairs is actually worse than having a one-party state (and contrary to bourgeois propaganda, there was and is far more democracy in the Soviet and Chinese systems than is assumed in the West), because in multi-party bourgeois politics, there is the illusion of choice that fools the public into thinking they needn’t change the system. The ruling class will never allow any party to challenge the capitalist system; they’ll never allow anyone to legislate them out of their wealth. Recall Goethe’s words.
Voting does not work. I haven’t even gotten into the corruption of the US electoral college or gerrymandering. Revolution is the solution.
VI: Intrusive Government
Thanks to anti-Soviet propaganda like George Orwell’s Animal Farm or Nineteen Eighty-four, as well as Leon Trotsky‘s description of the USSR as “totalitarian” and his description of their labour camps as “concentration camps,” we in the West have come to associate big, intrusive government with socialism and communism, when associating them with right-wing and fascist governments is far more apt, as I’ll try to demonstrate.
The association of intrusive government with communism is so consummate in the minds of so many in the West that whenever one sees examples of such intrusiveness in the US, it’s assumed that the country has become ‘communist.’ This is especially true when the Democrats are in power, since they are assumed by the politically illiterate to be ‘left-wing.’
Recall in this connection the conservative reaction to Obama becoming president, and how they idiotically said “there’s a communist living in the White House,” and he would enact socialist policies, when in reality he did nothing of the sort. He extended George W Bush’s Patriot Act, ordered more drone strikes than Dubya, was the Deporter-In-Chief, helped oust the actually socialist Gaddafi, and helped the capitalist class do particularly well during the economic crisis of the late 2000s and early 2010s, including bailing out the banks. He was in fact groomed by the ruling class to do things like these. The colour of his skin is completely irrelevant.
The problem of NSA surveillance was exposed by Edward Snowden back in 2013, during Obama’s very capitalist administration. AI is only going to make this surveillance worse, as I’ll demonstrate in its section below.
Obama’s continuation of Bush’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as his administration’s involvement in the regime change operations in Libya and Syria, are clear, blatant examples of capitalist imperialism in those countries, not of socialism. When people speak of ‘human rights violations’ in Cuba, I have two words to say to them: Guantanamo Bay, something Obama allowed to continue from Bush’s administration, and which continues to this day, though with fewer people imprisoned.
The point is that the US government, like any capitalist, imperialist government, is so intrusive that it insinuates itself into the affairs of other countries, places it doesn’t belong, either through military invasions or coups d’état. Right-wingers think of intrusive government as being an essentially socialist affair (welfare, single-payer healthcare, etc.), while ignoring the military, NSA, and CIA as branches of the government, which are totally bloated.
The libertarian notion of ‘small government’ is a con game, anyway. It’s not about whether government is ‘big’ or ‘small’; it’s about who the government serves–the people, or the wealthy elite. Similarly, the validity or invalidity of taxation depends on two things, as I see it–who is being taxed the most, and how the tax revenue is being spent. If the rich pay the most taxes, and the revenue is spent on social programs for the poor, taxation is valid; if the middle and lower classes are being taxed up the kazoo, while the rich pay little if any taxes, and if the tax money is being spent mostly on the imperial war machine and to bail out the banks, taxation is invalid.
So, intrusive government can be totally capitalist; socialism has no monopoly on the problem.
Since I’ve been criticizing the Obama administration a lot, and since liberals are always fawning over him and finding no fault in him at all, this brings me to my next point.
VII: Cults of Personality
Anti-communists love to quack about how we tankies supposedly revere men like Stalin and Mao as if they were gods. We do no such thing. It must also be understood that Stalin and Mao rejected the idea of being raised up on such pedestals, contrary to bourgeois propaganda. We Marxist-Leninists are also thoroughly willing to acknowledge their faults as leaders.
Their achievements in helping to modernize Russia and China are enough to explain that their people simply loved them rather than ‘worshipped’ them. Indeed, decades after it was ‘necessary’ to love Stalin, huge numbers of Russians still love him, and it shouldn’t be difficult to see why: over a mere two and a half decades or so, he transformed the USSR from being a backward, agrarian state into an industrialized, nuclear-armed superpower, while also having defeated the Nazis.
Mao’s attempts to modernize China went on a rockier road, admittedly (with the deaths from the Great Leap Forward wildly exaggerated), but the foundation he built was essential to the glorious success of China today. Again, the Western painting of Stalin and Mao as cruel tyrants has far more to do with bourgeois, Cold War propaganda than it does with reality.
Still, all of that is secondary to the point I want to make, which is that the political right has its cults of personality no less, if not much more, than the left has. Hitler and Mussolini had cults of personality, and contrary to the delusions of many right-wing libertarians, fascism is a capitalist ideology, not a socialist one. The whole purpose of fascism is to crush leftist uprisings (which, by the way, should explain the recent rise in fascist totalitarianism); Hitler’s big business donors ensured that he’d never take seriously the S in NSDAP.
But even more to my point is how we can see a cult of personality in recent, capitalist presidents like Obama and Trump, in each of whom one could write up an epic catalogue of awful things both have done. Still, their worshippers refuse to find fault in them, or they at least minimize their faults.
How many times have we seen nauseating praise of Obama has having led the US for eight years without any scandals, and how he was all grace, style, and class? Let’s just conveniently ignore his drone killings, his prosecuting of (and, based on political and social status, double-standards on) whistle-blowers, his expansion of all of the evils of his predecessor’s administration, and everything else I mentioned above? Eight years of grace, style, and class war…there, I fixed it.
Then, there’s Trump’s even more obvious cult of personality. Many among the religious right have imagined that God sent Orange-face to take on the “deep state” and to “drain the swamp” of corruption. If that isn’t a cult of personality, I don’t know what is.
Not only will the MAGA crowd believe such nonsense about Trump, they’ll also do all kinds of mental gymnastics to do away with their cognitive dissonance upon facing the truth. They claim, for example, that as with King David (who committed adultery with Bathsheba and had her cuckolded husband, Uriah the Hittite, killed so he could marry her), God chose a sinner in Trump to do His will. This is so even in light of how it’s pretty much settled that Trump is guilty of having joined in on the sexual exploitation and abuse of underage girls with Epstein et al.
And the ‘president of peace’? Apart from his failure to end the Russia/Ukraine war (which I figured he wouldn’t have been able to do even if he’d sincerely wanted to), his banging of the war drums against Venezuela–not to stop a drug cartel, but to steal their oil, a motive freely admitted to–proves that he’s no less of a warmonger than any other US president. The MAGA crowd still won’t admit that they were conned…that their Lord and Saviour is as much a sheepdog for the right as Bernie Sanders is a sheepdog for the left.
VIII: Surveillance
Now, if there’s any one thing that we associate with totalitarianism, it’s surveillance. We can thank Orwell for that: BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, telescreens that, as you watch them, people on the other side are watching you, the Thought Police, etc. Furthermore, also thanks to the snitch, totalitarian surveillance is also associated with socialism. So, if people today feel themselves to be surveilled, they all too often tend to think theirs is a socialist government.
Well, we’re far beyond what Snowden discovered over a decade ago as of this writing, and as I’ve endeavoured to demonstrate to you, Dear Reader, ours is a capitalist world. Only a small handful of countries today are of the Marxist-Leninist ideology (and some leftists dispute whether a few of those even are truly socialist). People are going to have to confront the reality that it’s our capitalist government that is oppressing us.
To start with a relatively minor example, you must have noticed by now that whenever you show an interest in this or that product online, you tend to see ads for similar products, or ones associated in one way or another with that product. Obviously, capitalists are surveilling you, and trying to get you to part with your money to buy their product and line their pockets. BIG BUSINESS IS WATCHING YOU.
There are surveillance cameras on streets, ready to catch proof of drivers violating traffic laws (including relatively trivial ones) as an excuse to pass out fines and take more money out of your pockets. There seems to be less of an interest in driver safety than there is in controlling people.
Of course, surveillance has recently been enhanced through the use of AI in the forms of smart homes, smart TVs, smart cars, and smart cities. Orwell’s telescreens had nothing on this. Keep in mind also how this AI is linked with some of the richest men in the world: Jensen Huang, cofounder of Nvidia, as well as Musk, Bezos, and Zuckerberg. There has been growing concern that tech bros like these are further eroding democracy (News flash: they’re all capitalists!)
This surveillance can, of course, be used to help the ruling class track any and all revolutionary activity, on- or offline. Remember how a number of those tech bros are buddying up with Trump. Palantir is another big tech company using AI in aid of government surveillance, helping to enable such things as Trump’s deportations.
Two of Palantir’s founders, Peter Thiel and Alex Karp, have publicly shown themselves to be particularly problematic in their attitudes to human rights, democracy, and warmongering. Thiel has been described as both an Ayn Rand libertarian and a ‘skeptic’ about democracy–something many might find contradictory, but not me, for the reasons I’ve given above and in other posts. As for Karp, one need only watch him ranting in YouTube videos to get a clear sense of how unhinged (and/or addled by narcotics, most likely) he is, fanatically defending imperialist war, Zionism, Western chauvinism, and ICE.
Seriously, do we want loose cannons like these in charge of AI and surveillance? Now ICE, among other things, brings me to my next topic.
IX: Police Brutality and ICE
Now, let’s start going into the truly nasty and violent aspects of our growing totalitarian world, in case what I mentioned above wasn’t enough to convince you, Dear Reader. I know I’ve been focusing a lot on the US, the belly of the beast to which ICE is specific, but manifestations of the militarization of police can be found in many countries around the world–not just in the US, but also in Brazil, Canada, Colombia, France, Germany, Indonesia, Italy, Mexico, and the UK, as well as in Africa. I should hardly need to go into great detail about the harm police militarization does to democracy, to public trust, to marginalized communities in particular, and to civilians perceived as enemies. The Thought Police, NKVD, and Stasi had nothing on these cops.
A lot of white people in the US and elsewhere in the West show little, if any, sensitivity to how these cops brutalize blacks, Latin Americans, and LGBTQ+ people. If such white and conservative people had ever had the experience of being disproportionately targeted by militarized police, though, they’d not only realize what a totalitarian world we’ve been living in, they might also realize that those marginalized groups…are…actually…people, too, no less so than the straight white crowd.
We always hear stories of how the secret police of socialist states would round up dissidents in the middle of the night, using torture and intimidation to crush political dissent. What we don’t hear is how these dissidents were, or were at least perceived to be, the kind of capitalist sympathizers who, if left to do whatever they wanted, would have all the sooner and surer brought back capitalism, leading in turn to the capitalist totalitarian nightmare we’re in now…which includes having the same kind of cops doing the same kind of thing to the anticapitalist dissidents of today.
We’ve already seen the extent to which ICE will terrorize people in the Latin American community on the pretext that they’re illegals, kidnapping them, separating children from their parents in cages, then deporting them. Venezuelans have been sent to CECOT in El Salvador; others have been sent to “Alligator Alcatraz,” places that are actually concentration camps (more on that below), where they’ve suffered all kinds of abuses. These cops often nab them at night, too.
We’ve known for ages about police brutality and the killing of blacks, often with impunity. Note that none of this started under Trump, whom liberals like to blame for everything while ignoring the sins of their favoured presidents: the Obama and Biden administrations presided over a lot of this kind of brutality, as well as the ICE deportations. Fascism has been building and growing in the West for a long time.
Things have taken a recent turn for the worse under the second Trump administration, with Pam Bondi announcing that law enforcement officials are to investigate Antifa and other supposed domestic terrorist groups. This will be nothing less than a crackdown on leftist groups perceived as a threat to the American capitalist government. Note that ‘Antifa’ just means antifascist, which should be deemed a perfectly reasonable stance to have, especially in our increasingly fascist world. So criminalizing an ‘organization’ not clearly defined as such should tell you what kind of a government the US really has. Now, let’s talk about those…
X: Concentration Camps and Prisons
Before I get into the current situation, it might be fitting to point out that, contrary to anti-Soviet propaganda that came from such groups as the CIA during the Cold War, the CIA themselves knew that being in the Gulag labour camps was nowhere near as bad as we’ve been led to believe. Among the many facts given in the link above, the Soviet archives reveal that 20 to 40 percent of Gulag inmates were released every year, and the vast majority of inmates were charged with nonpolitical offences: murder, assault, theft, and any of the other usual crimes punishable in any society.
The Nazi concentration camps, on the other hand, were genuine death camps, in which up to 11 million inmates were victims of murder for being Jews, Roma, gay men, Jehovah’s Witnesses, the mentally ill and mentally or physically disabled, political and religious opposition to the regime, etc. And fascists were and are allied with capitalism, not socialism…in case you forgot.
As for today’s capitalist concentration camps, I’ve already mentioned those in El Salvador and in Florida, where many have been held without charge or due process, and where many are being subject to beatings, psychological and sexual abuse, inhumane living conditions, denial of medical care, incommunicado detention, overcrowding, inadequate food rations, etc.
Let’s now do a comparison of the characteristic detainees: in CECOT and Alligator Alcatraz, the great majority of inmates are Latin Americans; in the Nazi concentration camps, the inmates were mostly “Untermenschen“–Jews, Roma, gay men, the mentally ill and disabled, and political prisoners; in the Gulag, they were mostly criminals. Seriously, which political stance is far, far guiltier of using labour camps as places for abuse and injustice–the far left, or the far right?
Next, we can look at the for-profit prison system, which uses inmates to do labour for corporations and typically pays them wages far below the minimum wage, making the work hardly distinguishable from slavery. Prisons for profit are perhaps most notorious in the US, but they also exist in countries around the world, including the UK, Australia, New Zealand, France, South Africa, South Korea, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, Jamaica, Peru, etc., to varying extents.
Note how capitalistic such prisons are (i.e., the motive is maximizing profits for the corporations). The near-slave status of the prisoner-labourers is easily comparable to that of the slaves in the Nazi concentration camps, who generally worked for nothing. In the US, the 13th amendment permits prison slavery. In contrast, in the Gulag, inmates were paid or given food, given more or less of it depending on how productive their work was.
Of course, the very worst concentration camp in the world–and it can legitimately, if metaphorically, be called one, for its victims (innocent men, women, and children) are trapped in the place and murdered and brutalized every day–is the open-air concentration camp that is Gaza. The totalitarian mass murder going on there and elsewhere is my next topic.
XI: Mass Murder
Before I go into the capitalist mass murder of today (and of so many years and decades before that), we need to take a brief look at the nonsense that bourgeois propaganda has said about the deaths blamed on communism, or more accurately, how many deaths there supposedly were due to communism, as opposed to how many deaths there actually were.
The spurious sources of the ‘100 million killed by communists’ idea are such books as The Black Book of Communism, the lies of Robert Conquest, and the like. Please click on the links if you want more detail on that, since I don’t wish to waste time and space going into that. Suffice it to say that the 100 million figure is wildly exaggerated and deliberately contrived for maximum propagandistic effect. Bourgeois paranoia about the spread of communism during the Cold War necessitated, from the ruling class’s point of view, exaggerated numbers meant to shock, not to inform. You know the old cliché: in war, the first casualty is the truth.
In any case, even if one accepts the absurdly high number of 100 million deaths as accurate, this otherwise bloated figure is dwarfed by the millions of people who have died, and who continue to die annually, under capitalism. We’ve been able to feed the entire world for a long time, but we don’t because there’s no profit in doing so. The combined wealth of oligarchs like Musk, Ellison, Bezos, Zuckerberg, Buffett, Thiel, Karp, and others could feed the world, build hospitals and schools, provide affordable (if not free) housing, and the like. The deaths resulting from starvation, disease, homelessness, and war are largely preventable: only the ruling class’s greed and psychopathy prevent it.
The endless imperialist wars cause constant, needless deaths. The Iraq War alone resulted in at least a million deaths. Contrary to what right-wing libertarians think, war is not just ‘government stuff.’ War is a business. Weapons manufacturers like Boeing, Raytheon, Lockheed-Martin, Northrop Grumman, and others are laughing all the way to the bank with all the glorious profits they’re making off of human suffering and death. The stealing of natural resources, like the oil in Iraq and Syria and the oil to be stolen from Venezuela, is a crucial aspect of capitalist imperialism and the obvious motive for these wars.
The recent genocides in Yemen, Palestine, and Sudan are the most egregious recent examples of capitalist mass murder, though. Again, weapons from many countries around the world have been sold to the killers in these genocides: the Saudi-led coalition killing Yemenis, the IDF killing Gazans and those in the West Bank, and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) killing the Sudanese.
Special attention ought to be given to the ethnic cleansing of the Palestinians, though. The real reason for the support of so many countries around the world, especially the Anglo-American NATO-allied empire, for Israel–apart from the obvious business interests (i.e., the buying and selling of weapons)–is how crucial the Jewish state is as an ally in maintaining imperial control of the region. There’s a lot of oil there, and so a lot of money is to be made. Israel is needed to kick ass in the region to secure those capitalist imperialist interests.
The official number killed in Gaza since October 7th, 2023, as of this writing, and excluding the thousands estimated to be buried under the rubble, is over 70,000 people. The ‘ceasefire’ is of course complete bullshit, since the IDF has still been killing Gazans without interruption, and of course we can see no end to the killing any time soon, for the whole point of the killing is not to stop Hamas, but total extermination.
What should be particularly chilling about all of this is that not only are the people with the power and authority to do so aren’t lifting a finger to stop the killing, but also that these genocides can be seen as a template for possibly wiping out any other group of people who try to stand up to imperialism, colonialism, and capitalism in general. With AI surveillance, any of us in the resistance can be fingered and hit with a drone strike, if not a balls-out genocide like in Yemen, Palestine, and Sudan. The psychopaths in power simply have no respect for human life.
XII: Utopian Thinking
Critics of communism like to claim that we leftists all dream of a perfect world with no pain, and that we’ll force our vision on everybody with a globe-spanning government. It is especially amusing to get this charge of utopianism from the supposedly anti-government right-wing libertarians, who imagine that the “free market” is naturally self-regulating and efficient (easily seen as total bullshit when we consider wasted food and starving people, as well as empty houses and homelessness, to give just two examples), and that the “invisible hand” will magically make everything right.
This “free market” ideology has been increasingly the dominant one in our world since the Reagan/Thatcher years, of course. It would be far more correctly called neoliberalism, since this new liberalizing of the market (translation: let the capitalist class be “free” to be as selfish, greedy, and hoarding as they like) really involves a subordinating of the government (and everything and everyone else) to the whims of the market, not an eliminating of the government.
Just as right-wingers imagine there’s no such thing as governments eradicating poverty (even though many governments have at least made impressive progress in doing so), so do we on the left (as well as anyone with a modicum of common sense) know there’s no such thing as allowing “rational” selfishness to run rampant and magically provide for everyone’s needs, while also not needing a government to protect capitalists’ private property.
For people so supposedly anti-government, many right-wing libertarians sure like getting into it. Look at the ‘libertarian’ Koch brothers, who pumped so much of their wealth into the Republican Party. Look at libertarians Ron Paul and Rand Paul, who work in the government. And look at Argentina’s current president, Javier Milei, a self-proclaimed “anarcho”-capitalist, who is set to receive $40 billion from the Trump administration in exchange for forcing Argentinians to vote for Milei, whose policies ruined the country’s economy. I thought it was bad to let the government intervene in the economy, and to force its will on the people.
Apparently not.
XIII: Cold War Fears of Nuclear War
Now, as if all of the above wasn’t bad enough, the one peace dividend we were supposed to enjoy from the end of the Cold War–no more fears of the two great superpowers, the US and the USSR, going into a hot war and killing everybody all over the world through nuclear annihilation–is no longer to be had. The US/NATO provocation of war with Russia over Ukraine, as well as the looming war with China over Taiwan, has killed even that one peace dividend.
That nut-job I mentioned above, Alex Karp, envisions a three-way war between the West on one side, and Russia, China, and Iran on the other. With the connections between the tech bros (and their AI in the US military) and Trump’s right-wing government, such fears of the world’s annihilation are well-founded.
XIV: Conclusion
So, even if socialist revolution leads to the totalitarian nightmare that the right-wingers are so scared of…so what? What’s the difference between that kind of totalitarianism and the right-wing kind we’re currently living in?
I’ll tell you what the real difference is…and yes, the capitalists are terrified of it. Ordinary people will gain access to free healthcare, housing, and education up to university, full employment, food security, a social safety net, etc…all of their basic needs met, and recipients will include people in the Third World. Getting all those things, however, will also mean that the ruling class will lose all their excess wealth–that’s the real reason they’re so scared of socialist revolution.
Let’s scare them.
Analysis of ‘The Party’
The Party is a 1968 comedy directed by Blake Edwards, written by him, and Tom and Frank Waldman. It stars Peter Sellers, with Claudine Longet, Gavin MacLeod, J. Edward McKinley, Fay McKenzie, James Lanphier, Steve Franken, Denny Miller, and Herb Ellis.
The film is a loosely structured farce, made up of a series of set pieces for Sellers to do improvisational comedy around. His character in the film is inspired by an Indian he played in The Millionairess (1960) and the bumbling Inspector Clouseau of the Pink Panther movies. While The Party is considered a classic comedic film, there is the problem of Sellers, a white British actor, wearing brownface and doing a caricature of an Indian stereotype…a buffoonish one, at that. I’ll address this issue more fully later.
Here is a link to quotes from the film, and here are links to the full movie.
It begins with an example of metacinema: we see what we originally think is the actual film, but it ends up being a film set in which Hrundi V. Bakshi (Sellers) is playing a bugler in a war between Indians and the British. The film they’re making is called Son of Gunga Din, which is an interesting title when one considers the poem, “Gunga Din,” by Rudyard Kipling.
What essentially needs to be known about Kipling’s poem, as far as its relevance to The Party is concerned, is that Gunga Din is an Indian water-carrier for the British; he is often treated abusively by the British soldiers for not bringing water to them fast enough. Nonetheless, when Gunga Din bravely tends to the wounded British soldiers on the battlefield, saves the life of the soldier narrating the poem, and is shot and killed there, the narrator regrets his abuse of Gunga Din and admits, at the end of the poem, that Gunga Din was the better man.
This far more respectful attitude of a white man for an Indian is, of course, in great contrast to Kipling’s later imperialist poem, “The White Man’s Burden,” which characterizes the colonialized natives as “Half devil and half child.” Similarly, Blake Edwards’s adaptation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s is far less apologetic than The Party is in its racist, cartoonish depiction of a Japanese man, Mr. Yunioshi, played by Mickey Rooney in yellowface.
I suspect that the ‘son of Gunga Din’ is not only far less servile to the British, but outright revolutionary in attitude. The filmmakers have hired Bakshi straight out of India to act in their movie, and his role is prominent: I’m guessing that he is the son of Gunga Din. If so, I see an intriguing parallel of Bakshi’s spastic messing up of the movie, one already about revolutionary resistance against whitey, and his later bumbling antics at the party of Hollywood A-listers he’s been accidentally invited to. Perhaps the best way for the Third World to overthrow Western imperialism is to be clumsy and accidentally ‘crash’ the party.
The point is that this opening scene–with the Indians fighting against British imperial rule (we see what are presumably members of a Scottish regiment, in their kilts and their playing of the bagpipes)–sets the thematic tone for the rest of the film, which can be seen as allegorical of the Third World resisting the plunder of the First World by screwing everything up in it.
Since Hollywood, as a crucial part of the Western media, has always been, in one form or another, a mouthpiece of Western capitalist propaganda (however ‘left-leaning’ and liberal that may be), then Bakshi’s bungling and screwing up of everything on the set (playing the bugle non-stop, long after he’s supposed to be shot and dead; attempting to stab a Sikh guard [presumably one of several Sikh collaborators with the British] while visibly wearing an underwater watch [the film being set in the late 19th century, when such watches didn’t exist]; and accidentally blowing up a fort before it’s filmed) can be seen as representative of Third World resistance, however unconscious, against such propagandistic narratives.
The luckless filming of Son of Gunga Din is one of three focal points in The Party. The other two are Bakshi’s accidental invite to the A-lister party, leading up to all of his buffoonery and screwing things up there; and finally, the bringing of the painted-up baby elephant–a symbol of India, as Bakshi calls it–to the party, which causes the lady of the house, Alice Clutterbuck (McKenzie) to go into hysterics, and which leads to the entire house being filled with soap bubbles, since Bakshi–offended at the hippie slogans painted on the elephant–wants them all washed off.
The odd thing about The Party is how it is paradoxically both racist and anti-racist, almost at the same time. True, it is awful to see a white man in brownface affecting an Indian accent and making use of all the typical Indian stereotypes (playing the sitar during the opening credits, for example); we can leave it up to Indian viewers of the film, as well as those of Indian descent, to decide if they want to forgive Sellers et al for presenting these stereotypes and making fun of Indian culture and–from the biased Western point of view, at least–idiosyncrasies.
Not to excuse the film for these great faults, but there are other things going on in The Party that clearly criticize racism, directly or indirectly. For one thing, while Bakshi is a buffoon for about the first hour and fourteen minutes of the film, by the time he’s changed into the red outfit and he hears Michèle Monet (Longet) crying alone in a bedroom at the party, he goes in and consoles her, demonstrating what a kind man he really is. At this moment, Bakshi finally starts to be properly humanized: he’s no longer just a stock comic Indian stereotype, but a nuanced character with some complexity. He continues to be so largely through the rest of the film. Again, this change doesn’t fully redeem the film, but for what it’s worth, it’s a lot better than what was done with Yunioshi.
Bakshi’s kindness to Michèle, which includes defending her right not to have to leave the party with the lecherous movie producer, CS Divot (MacLeod), demonstrates that he has qualities that more than compensate for his clumsiness and social awkwardness. In fact, he has good qualities that render his quirks insignificant. He has the only qualities of a human being that really matter–he has a good heart. You’re a better man than we are, son of Gunga Din.
As for Bakshi’s messing up of everything at the party–which includes getting mud on his shoe, losing it in the water he tries to wash the mud off with, laughing awkwardly at conversations he’s not a part of, shooting a dart from a toy gun at the forehead of Western movie star “Wyoming Bill” Kelso (Miller), dropping bird feed (“Birdie Num-Num”) on the floor, fiddling with a panel of electronics and disrupting the party further, getting caviar on his hand, then shaking the hands of others, thus spreading the caviar odor, catapulting his roast chicken at a woman’s tiara during dinner, setting off the sprinklers in the backyard, breaking the toilet and unrolling all the toilet paper after desperately needing to pee, and falling into the swimming pool–it should be emphasized that the A-list guests deserve to have their party ruined, given their snobbery.
Among these snobbish guests are some of the richest, most powerful and influential people in the Hollywood film industry: stars and starlets, producers, and studio heads like the host of the party, General Fred R Clutterbuck (McKinley), husband of Alice, among others. Also invited are a congressman (played by Thomas W Quire) and his wife, Rosalind (played by Marge Champion). This last one is particularly icy and snobbish to Bakshi when she butts in line ahead of him to get to the washroom.
This combination of Hollywood royalty and American politicians, as well as the fact that they’re all white, reinforces how they–in sharp contrast to Bakshi–are all part of the ruling class. In this sense, the party almost sounds like the political party in power. They look like a group of people in desperate need of a bumbling fool to intrude and be a shock to the system.
Bakshi’s disruptions of the established order even seem to have a subversive effect on the staff, intentional or not. After refusing an alcoholic drink from a waiter, Levinson (Franken), Bakshi walks off while Levinson helps himself to the rejected drink. He’ll continue his drunken devotion to Bacchus throughout the rest of the movie. Later, as the party is clearly falling apart and soap suds are everywhere, the maid (played by Francis Davis) stars dancing erotically to the song “The Party.” Even the jazz musicians, at one point in the middle of the film, sneak off to a room and pass around a joint. Instead of doing their alienating work, the staff are joining in on the fun.
The point here is that there’s a connection to be made between the staff, who represent the proletariat of the First World (including blacks like the dancing maid), and Bakshi, who represents the Third World proletariat. They should all join together and overthrow the bourgeoisie, in a revolution symbolized by the mayhem Bakshi instigates at the party. I hope that in these examples I have shown that The Party has antiracist elements as well as the unfortunate racist ones.
To be sure, the antiestablishment ethos of this film, as well as so many others of the late 1960s and much of the 1970s, never meant to carry their subversiveness to a…Soviet…extreme [!]. After all, the makers of such films are, like the Hollywood snobs of the party, just bourgeois liberals themselves, not Marxists. Still, these left-leaning types were of a sort at the time when ‘left-leaning’ actually meant something, as opposed to the liberals of the 21st century, who are unapologetically embracing such reactionary right-wing politics as the “free market,” jingoist Russophobia, and Zionism. I thus feel free to interpret this liberal film in as Marxist a way as I please.
It’s fitting that, just when Bakshi is beginning to shed his stock comic Indian stereotypes and showing his compassionate, humanized side, he’s switched from that fashion faux pas of a suit into the…red…outfit [!]. Similarly, we can hear in Michèle’s otherwise saccharine song, “Nothing to Lose,” a subtle allusion to the conclusion of a classic revolutionary text. We have “so much to gain”…even the world.
Now, while some of the staff are going along with the subversion described above, others represent the typical bootlicking class collaborators, like Harry (Lanphier), the headwaiter. He is frequently angry with drunken Levinson and his resulting incompetence, resulting in turn with Harry strangling Levinson. If Levinson’s drinking on the job is his form of rebellion against his alienating work, then Harry’s comic strangling of him represents a fascist bullying of the proletariat. In the end, when Clutterbuck learns from Divot that Bakshi is the one who blew up the fort on the movie set, he–meaning to strangle Bakshi in revenge–accidentally strangles Harry instead.
Allegorically speaking, the falling apart of the party represents the self-destruction of capitalism and imperialism, partly brought about by a Third World uprising (as personified by Bakshi). Clutterbuck, who represents the ruling class, accidentally strangles Harry (the class collaborating middle class, who fancies himself higher than that, as seen in an embarrassing scene in a room in his underwear, admiring his would-be muscles before a mirror) because when capitalism finally comes crashing down, it will crush its own in the imperial core, even in its attempts to crush those in the global south (i.e., Clutterbuck’s attempt to strangle Bakshi).
As for Bakshi’s defending of Michèle from not only Divot’s sexual advances but also his bullying demands that she leave with him, his gallantry goes against the stereotype of the patriarchal Indian male. He doesn’t see women as a man’s property, unlike Divot, who at the beginning of the movie is seen snapping his fingers at a sunbathing bikini blonde, signaling her to go in a camper with him to satisfy him sexually, something she isn’t all that keen on doing.
Bakshi’s offence at the sight of the baby elephant with hippie slogans painted all over its body (“The world is flat,” “Socrates eats hemlock,” and “Run naked”) is in itself worthy of comment. Recall that he says the elephant is a symbol of India; he considers it humiliating to have the animal presented thus publicly, so he wants the kids who painted it up to wash the paint all off. The writers of the screenplay must have seen the dramatic irony of a white man in brownface saying such things. Sellers, of course, needed to wash all the brown off, too, to stop humiliating Indians.
But again, while wearing that brownface, he says a very Indian-affirming line to Divot while defending Michèle’s right to stay at the party: “In India we don’t think who we are; we know who we are.” I’m reminded of the Hindu notion of the identity of Atman with Brahman. If we know of this unity, whether we’re Indian or not, that indeed, everyone and everything are all one, we’ll be liberated from samsara. Having seen The Party, Indira Gandhi loved that line. If one watched this film with one’s head tilted a certain way, one could see the brownface and Indian stereotypes as a kind of meta-cinematic comment on racism in Hollywood movies.
Towards the end of the film, we see not only Bakshi and Michèle dancing together, but also a white man dancing with that maid. The sexiness of the latter couple’s dance moves implies a tolerance and even a celebration of interracial romances. Such an attitude is also implied when Bakshi drives Michèle home, and that they’ll surely get together again in the near future, leading to possible dates. For a film with the problematic use of brownface and Indian stereotypes, the implied romantic interest here between an Indian man and a white woman is extraordinarily antiracist given the film’s release in 1968, when there still would have been a lot more raised conservative eyebrows at the idea than there would be today.
In the end, a film about an Indian blowing up a movie prop and messing things up at a party shouldn’t be seen as a racist portrayal of a swarthy buffoon (though using an actual Indian actor to play the buffoon, in spite of Sellers’s comic talents and box-office draw, would have been much better for the film). Instead, allegorically speaking, an Indian encroaching on the world of the American ruling class and screwing everything up for them, intentionally or not, seems like karma in action. After all, how often have Western imperialists–British, American, etc.–intentionally encroached on Third World countries like India and screwed things up for them?
And ultimately, the goal of the destruction of the old order isn’t destruction for its own sake, but its replacement with a much better way of doing things. This is what we see in the growing relationship between Bakshi and Michèle. Their initial loneliness and alienation has been replaced with love and togetherness, representative of that new way of doing things–one of sexual and racial equality, and loving human companionship.
Analysis of ‘First Blood’
First Blood is a 1972 novel by David Morrell. It was adapted into a 1982 movie by Ted Kotcheff, the screenplay written by Michael Kozoll, William Sackheim, and Sylvester Stallone, the last of these three of course starring as Rambo. Brian Dennehy and Richard Crenna costarred.
The film went through development hell for ten years because of such difficulties as finding the right director and cast, and getting a suitable screenplay. Morrell had sold the film rights in 1972 to Columbia Pictures; the rights were then sold to Warner Bros., and finally Orion Pictures produced the film. Another reason a film adaptation didn’t appear in the early to mid-1970s was that the Vietnam War was still going on, and film studios were worried about moviegoers’ reactions to such sensitive subject matter as that of a Vietnam vet waging a one-man war against an American town.
A suitable adaptation was finally created, to a large extent from Stallone’s rewrites, when the novel’s violence was toned down, Rambo was made more sympathetic, and he would survive in the end, which–thanks to the box-office success of the film–allowed for sequels to be made.
In fact, Morrell wrote the novelizations for Rambo: First Blood Part II and Rambo III, having informed readers in the preface to Part II to disregard the death of Rambo in his original novel. Then came two other films, Rambo and Rambo: Last Blood; all of the sequels’ screenplays were co-written by Stallone, with Morrell having no involvement in any way with the writing of the last two…though he praised Stallone’s portrayal of Rambo in the fourth film, saying Stallone had returned the character to Morrell’s original intentions as angry, cold, burned out, and filled with self-disgust.
Here is a link to quotes from the first film, and here is a link to an audiobook of the novel.
While the two sequels from the 1980s, as I said above, novelized by Morrell (fittingly, as you’ll see why below), were little more than mindless action movie nonsense, and one can basically say the same about the other two sequels, in a sense it is fitting to see Rambo in actual war situations (in Vietnam in Part II, in Afghanistan in Rambo III, in Burma in Rambo, and in Mexico in Last Blood). I say this because I see the original novel and first movie as telling a story that, while set in an American town, is an allegory of the Vietnam War, with Rambo personifying US imperialism, and the local cops representing the Vietnamese army.
Accordingly and predictably, as far as the sequels are concerned, the Vietnamese and Soviets are portrayed negatively (except for pro-US Vietnamese spy Co Bao (played by Julia Nickson) in Part II, the Soviets are portrayed negatively in Rambo III, the Burmese government is portrayed so negatively (which should not be misconstrued that I’m advocating for the junta) in Rambo as to have had the film banned in the country, and in Last Blood, Mexicans are portrayed so badly that there have been accusations of this last sequel promoting racist and xenophobic attitudes towards the country (in a rather Trump-esque vein). This sort of propagandizing against and vilifying of any country or government going against US interests is typical of imperialism.
As for the first movie, the local police of the town of Hope, Washington (in the novel, the town is Madison, Kentucky) are also portrayed negatively, with sheriff Will Teasle (Dennehy) being prickly to Rambo right from the start. Deputy Sergeant Arthur “Art” Galt (played by Jack Starrett) is abusive to Rambo to the point of psychopathy; and the other police, when chasing Rambo in the forest and getting wounded by him, cry out to Will for help like children weeping for their daddy.
In contrast, the novel’s portrayal of Teasle is much more sympathetic and nuanced, with lots of backstory to tell us the kind of world the sheriff is from. His wife has left him, so he has to deal with the pain of that. Also, Teasle is a Korean War veteran, so in that, among other things, he parallels Rambo the Vietnam vet.
Also, in the novel, Teasle doesn’t arrest Rambo (who is called only “Rambo” or “the kid”; the “John” and “James” are inventions of the movies) until after he returns to the town several times. This is opposed to Dennehy’s Teasle, who is abrasive with Rambo just upon first seeing him and not liking how he looks. He arrests him immediately for vagrancy upon Rambo’s just beginning his first return to the town.
It’s important to contrast the tone of the film with that of the novel in light of my allegorizing them as representative of American involvement in Vietnam. The film is, as I’ve said, far more sympathetic to Rambo, and far less sympathetic to the local police and reserve army “weekend warriors,” while in the novel, there’s much more moral ambiguity between the two sides.
In the film, Rambo injures those coming after him, but he never kills them, except for Galt, and even he is killed only accidentally, in self-defence. In the novel, Rambo kills many cops, and most deliberately, including Galt, who isn’t the ACAB pig of the film, but rather a somewhat inept cop who often forgets to lock the door leading upstairs from where they keep the incarcerated downstairs.
This contrast can help us understand the film’s attitude, as opposed to that of the novel, concerning the Vietnam War allegory that I see in both. The film, in having us sympathize with PTSD-stricken Rambo, as against the obnoxious local cops, takes the pro-American attitude towards Vietnam. The novel, with its morally ambiguous attitude towards both sides, allegorically takes into account how wrong it was that the US went into Vietnam and did all the damage it did there.
When we see Teasle telling Rambo, with that American flag on his jacket, to get out of town and stay out, we can see Teasle’s intolerance towards Rambo as representative of the Vietnamese not wanting any more imperialists or colonialists in their country. After all, they had just finished driving out the French colonialists by the mid-1950s, and because of Western Cold War paranoia about the ‘Red menace,’ then, by the 1960s, they had to put up with Uncle Sam moving into their country.
So the cops’ arresting Rambo, then chasing him into the mountainside forest, are allegorical of US troops taken as POWs by the Vietnamese, who then would have chased any escaped POWs in the jungles of Vietnam. Certainly in Rambo’s PTSD-addled mind, his reliving of the trauma he suffered in Nam as he flees to the forest from the cops makes the whole story into the Vietnam War all over again, from his perspective.
Seen in this light, the notion of who really “drew first blood” has a chillingly ironic new meaning.
It’s assumed by most in the West that Vietnam started the war because the “commies” were out to take over the world and ‘enslave’ everybody, so the US had to stop the spread of communism (i.e., the ‘domino theory‘) and intervene. Actually, the US lied, through the bogus Gulf of Tonkin incident, to justify greater involvement in Vietnam. US imperialism and colonialism (i.e., the French) drew first blood, not Vietnam. Allegorically speaking, Rambo’s insistence on coming into town again and again (as in the novel)–defying Teasle’s insistence that he not do so (however more patient he is with Rambo in the novel, even allowing him to have something to eat in a local diner)–is what has metaphorically drawn first blood, too.
In the film, why should Teasle think that Rambo’s entering town with the American flag on his jacket, of all things, to be a sign that he’s looking for trouble? And looking the way he does, in combination with the flag (long hair, sloppy, and smelling bad), is what’s implied, of course, but allegorically speaking, it can represent a white man in Southeast Asia in a green army jacket, with that flag on it, implying a military uniform.
To make Rambo more sympathetic in the film, we see good-looking Stallone with combed hair and no beard or mustache…unlike the far shaggier and scruffier-looking Rambo of the novel. Also in the film, he is further humanized in its opening scene, in which he tries to visit a veteran friend from his team in Nam by going to the vet’s home, only to learn that he died of cancer from Agent Orange. Rambo is lonely, homeless, and suffering from PTSD. The Rambo of the novel has the same problems, but because of his tendency to kill, he’s far less sympathetic.
The issue of veterans’ PTSD, emphasized in the film, is of course a valid one, especially given how shabbily the US government has treated its veterans when they’re no longer of any use to the imperial war machine. Empire doesn’t just harm those outside the imperial core: it hurts those within it, too, and that’s why it’s valid to allegorize a vet’s war in an American town as a war in one of those Third World countries that the empire wants to subjugate and plunder.
These soldiers traumatize others and get traumatized themselves. Rambo’s loneliness represents the alienation and estrangement people feel in society and workers feel doing their work. Accordingly, while Col. Samuel Trautman (Crenna) in the film knows Rambo well (calling him “Johnny”), has personally trained him, and–as the final scene makes clear–is a father figure to him (once again reinforcing our sympathy for the US Army’s point of view), in the novel, Capt. Trautman merely headed the training facility where Rambo learned to be a soldier, he hardly knows Rambo at all, and he’s the one to put a bullet in Rambo’s head at the end of the novel.
My allegorizing of the story as one of Rambo fighting in the Vietnam War, instead of the local American cops, can be seen clearly in the novel, when shortly before Rambo’s breaking out of the police station and racing off to the forest on the mountain, he remembers a time in Nam when labouring as a POW, he gets sick, and he is given a chance to escape when the Vietnamese guards leave him to his own devices. Going through the jungle, he’s given food by local villagers, and he eventually rejoins members of the US Army.
Paralleling this Vietnam memory is Rambo’s escape from the police station, where instead of being sick, his vulnerability is from running outside completely naked (he’s just had a shower to clean away his body odour, and before he even has a chance to get dressed, he’s freaking out from a PTSD trigger from the cops’ attempt to shave his beard and give him a haircut). In the forest on the mountainside, Rambo gets clothes, food, and a rifle from an old man and a boy illegally making moonshine from a still; this help parallels the Vietnamese villagers having fed him.
Rambo is extremely averse to getting a haircut and a shave. In the novel, he’s kept in a cell that gives him claustrophobia. In the film, the sight of the straight razor gives him a PTSD flashback, making him relive the terror of a Vietnamese guard bringing a blade up to his chest and slashing it, triggering Rambo’s fight/flight response. Cutting his hair and shaving his beard, as the cops try to do in the novel, can be compared to the cutting of Samson‘s long hair, thus depriving him of his great strength. In the end, Samson kills all the Philistines, but also himself; in the novel, Rambo kills many of his enemies, and himself gets killed, too.
Having Rambo escape naked reinforces our sense of how tough he is. He can ignore public embarrassment, the discomfort of his unprotected nut-sack slapping against the seat of the motorbike as he races into the wind on it, and the possibility of scraping his skin on the ground if the bike crashes. Him naked among the trees on the mountainside also reinforces our sense of how feral he is.
Another point of contrast between the novel and the film is in who they emphasize as being the main victims of the Vietnam War. In my allegorical interpretation of the novel, Rambo’s shooting and killing of all of Teasle’s cops, as well as that of Orval Kellerman (played by John McLiam in the film) and his dogs, and on top of them, his setting of much of the town on fire suggests the American troops’ shooting and napalming of the Vietnamese and their villages. The film’s emphasis on Rambo’s PTSD, leading to him breaking down and crying at the end, as well as his never deliberately killing anyone, emphasizes how victimized the American vets felt.
Now, Rambo’s rant to Trautman at the end of the film, about how wrongly he and other vets were treated by antiwar protestors, them spitting on him and calling him “‘Baby-killer,’ and all kinds of vile crap,” is valid insofar as some troops really were innocent of such atrocities. Other troops, however, weren’t so innocent, as was the case with the My Lai massacre of 1968.
In any case, the antiwar protestors should have reserved most of their ire for the top military brass and American government. Recall that old antiwar song by Black Sabbath, which condemned the generals and politicians that plotted and started the Vietnam War, then had the poor–young men like Rambo–do all of their dirty work for them…and it was those very same poor who came home–if they weren’t killed–traumatized, unemployed, and often homeless, like Rambo; it wasn’t the generals or politicians who suffered thus.
I mentioned above how there are parallels between Rambo and Teasle in the novel, i.e., they’re both vets. Also, it’s not just Teasle et al hunting Rambo; it’s vice versa, too. Both men sustain nasty injuries in the mountainside woods, and it’s as if there’s a psychic link between the two, because later on in the novel, when Teasle is back in town, he’s had a vision in a dream that Rambo is coming back into Madison.
This time, Rambo’s going back into town to torch it all, linking this return to the other ones at the beginning, which prodded Teasle into arresting him and starting the whole conflict in the first place. This linking of going back into town, in terms of my allegory, shows how Rambo’s arrival has always been an invasion, even if he didn’t kill anybody at first. It’s like the imperialist establishment of South Vietnam (or South Korea, for that matter), a preparation for coming war and prompting the establishment of the Viet Cong.
The whole point in allegorizing the conflict in First Blood, with a US vet fighting a local American town to represent the US army fighting in Nam, is to show how imperialism’s ravaging of other countries eventually turns back on itself, causing the empire to eat itself up and ravage the imperial core. This is what we can see the Trump administration doing as I’ve been writing this post: first, they did the usual–continue to enable the Gaza genocide and Ukrainian war, and threaten Venezuela; now, they’re sending the National Guard into American cities like Washington DC, Chicago, Portland, and Los Angeles to terrorize American citizens, regardless of whether or not they’re illegal immigrants, in response to an “enemy within.” When we hurt people outside, we hurt people inside (e.g., Vietnam vets’ PTSD), because in the end we’re all one.
Before Rambo goes back into town, though, he still has to hide from those doing the manhunt for him, which by now has included the National Guard and civilians. He goes deep into a mining cave, in which at first he imagines it’s like being in a Catholic Church where he can go to confession; indeed, he contemplates how he wasn’t justified in killing those cops–he could have simply escaped, but he knows that his instinct to keep fighting is powered, at least in part, by his enjoyment of killing. In his bloodlust, we can see how he personifies US imperialism.
Deep in that black pit of a cave–which in the novel, at one point shorty after he’s come back out, is aptly compared to hell–Rambo comes to a filthy chamber with toxic fumes and a floor covered in shit. Bats fly out all over him, biting and scratching him (in the film, it’s rats). He is repelled back, but he soon realizes that it’s only through this awful chamber that he’ll be able to come back out to the surface. Only by going through the darkest hell can one come back out to the light: this heaven/hell dialectic, like any dialectical unity of opposites, is something I’ve discussed in a number of blog posts before.
So in this situation, Rambo is like Jesus harrowing hell before His resurrection…though Rambo’s return to the earth’s surface will make him anything but holy.
Nonetheless, the notion of Rambo emerging from the cave as a kind of resurrected, avenging Christ is apt when we consider, in the context of my allegory, how the missionary spread of Christianity (in places like Africa, for example) has been used to justify colonialism and imperialism. Recall Ann Coulter‘s incendiary words about Muslim-majority countries immediately after 9/11: “We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.” The Western capitalist complaint about “Godless communists” would have also been used as a rationalization for fighting the Cold War in general and the Vietnam War in particular.
In any case, when Rambo comes out of that cave, he feels “good,” as it says in the novel, being the only apt word to describe how he feels. He’s full of resolve and energy, eager to fight his personal war on the town. This good feeling is comparable to experiencing the transformed, ‘spiritual body‘ of the resurrected Christ, ready to go out and fight as a Christian soldier against the ‘civilian’ pagans, or those whom Rambo fights, those without his military training and discipline.
In the film, he steals a military transport truck carrying an M60 machine gun. In the novel, he steals a police car and some dynamite. With these weapons, he’ll cause a mayhem to the town comparable to the napalm mayhem the US Army caused in Vietnam. He’ll blow up two gas stations, the police headquarters, and much of the town.
But of course, he can fight this personal war only for so long before he’ll be stopped. His inevitable, ultimate defeat is allegorical of the quagmire that the Vietnam War turned into, an unwinnable one that was beginning to be seen as such by the aftermath of the Tet Offensive in 1968, the year Morrell began writing his novel.
Trautman tries in the film’s and novel’s varying ways to convince Rambo to stop fighting and thus to save his life. Allegorically, this is like the US Army’s big brass realizing that they had to pull out of Vietnam before more of their men needlessly got killed.
In the novel, Teasle and Rambo shoot each other, and Teasle–in that connection I said he has with Rambo–feels a need to be near Rambo when he’s finally killed. The police chief, a former vet, and this Vietnam vet parallel each other in their shared forms of pain (sustained injuries in the mountainside forest, alienation and loneliness [recall Teasle’s wife having left him], etc.).
The ultimate connection, though, between Teasle and Rambo is, in terms of my allegory, a dialectical one, in the sense of Hegel‘s master/slave dialectic. One can be recognized as self-conscious only through the other recognizing him as such. Rambo and Teasle react to each other at the beginning of the story. They have a fight to the death; one becomes lord, and the other, bondsman (in my allegory, these would respectively be Rambo-as-US-imperialist and Teasle-as-Vietnamese-resistor). The contradiction between the two is resolved through the efforts of the local police to stop Rambo in the end, making him realize he cannot go any further. This resolution is allegorical of Vietnam fighting so hard for many years until finally liberating themselves from Uncle Sam.
On the surface, it might seem that it’s Teasle who is the lord, and Rambo the bondsman, since it’s through Rambo’s hard fighting that he ends up outdoing the cops for so long, and escaping them; but even if we take this interpretation, it just shows how dialectically interchangeable Rambo and Teasle are, each other’s yin and yang.
Finally, what is ironic about a franchise with a seemingly indestructible tough guy is how, in this first film, the one unequivocally good one, in its climactic and emotional final scene, Rambo cries like a baby, just like Teasle’s wounded cops in the forest. Trautman comforts Rambo like a father figure (as opposed to the novel, in which Orval–the old man with the hunting dogs–is Teasle’s father figure, yet another parallel between Rambo and Teasle). The big action hero is thus a rough, tough cream puff, a Herculean masculine ideal as impossible for men to live up to as is the Marian/Aphrodite ideal for women to attain.
A scene was filmed of Crenna’s Trautman being made by Stallone’s Rambo to shoot and kill him, a forced suicide; for obvious reasons, it was disliked and excluded from the film. As I said above, in the novel, Trautman blows Rambo’s head off; earlier in the novel, wounded Rambo intended to kill himself with some of that dynamite he had.
In any case, Rambo dying at the end may not be pleasing to moviegoers who’ve invested so much time sympathizing with him, but it is the fitting end to the story, because the whole point of First Blood is how Rambo’s projection of who ‘started the fight’ is ironically how he started it (if only allegorically so, according to my interpretation); also, the whole point of the story is how it ends, with Rambo-as-US-imperialism killing many others, then self-destructing.
As of the writing and publishing of this analysis, Americans have been witnessing that self-destruction of empire on their very soil. They ought to reflect on that, and not wish for any sequels to the fighting.
Analysis of ‘Dark Star’
Dark Star is a 1974 sci-fi comedy produced, scored, and directed by John Carpenter, his feature directorial debut. It was written by him and Dan O’Bannon, who also acts in the film, does the voices for Bombs #19 and #20, edited the film, and created many of the special effects.
Other actors in the film are Brian Narelle, Cal Kuniholm, Andreijah “Dre” Pahich, and Joe Saunders. Carpenter did the voices of Talby (Pahich) and Commander Powell (Saunders). Barbara “Cookie” Knapp, the only female in the cast, did the voice of the computer. Miles Watkins is Mission Control, and Nick Castle is the alien.
Dark Star started out as a student film while Carpenter and O’Bannon were at the University of Southern California. It was originally a 45-minute film with a budget of $6000. The first version of the film was completed in 1972. With $10,000 in financial support from Jonathan Kaplan, Carpenter and O’Bannon were able to shoot an extra fifty minutes in 1973, thus making Dark Star feature-length.
The film was well-received at Filmex, but not on its initial theatrical release, with nearly empty theatres and little reaction to the intended humour. O’Bannon would later lament that they had “what would have been the world’s most impressive student film and it became the world’s least impressive professional film.”
Nonetheless, by the early 1980s, Dark Star became a cult film among sci-fi fans, and Quentin Tarantino called it a “masterpiece.” O’Bannon reworked the ‘beachball alien’ section of the film into 1979’s Alien. He reasoned, “If I can’t make them laugh, then maybe I can make them scream.” George Lucas was impressed with O’Bannon’s special effects, remarkable for such a low-budget film, such as the spaceship jumping into hyperspace and the computer screen effects, so he hired O’Bannon to apply these effects to Star Wars (1977).
The humor of Dark Star was meant to parody 2001: a Space Odyssey. While 2001 is an epic film with profound meditations on the progress of man and his place in the universe, Dark Star is a short, absurdist look at how not only insignificant and bumbling we are, but also how potentially harmful we are to the universe and to ourselves. Instead of such powerful, grandiose music as Richard Strauss‘s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, in Dark Star we hear a trite country song (“Benson, Arizona”) during the opening and ending credits, as well as “Largo al factotum,” from Rossini‘s Barber of Seville, and Carpenter’s use of a modular synthesizer.
Here is a link to quotes from the film, and here are links to the full movie.
The film begins with a video message sent from Earth to the spaceship named Dark Star, manned by a crew of four men–Lt. Doolittle (Narelle), Sgt. Pinback (O’Bannon), Boiler (Kuniholm), and Talby (Pahich), while a fifth man, Commander Powell (Saunders), has been cryogenically suspended after a fatal electrocution from his malfunctioning chair–whose mission is to seek out and destroy unstable planets that will threaten Earth’s hopes to colonize space.
The video message is sent from Mission Control, from McMurdo Sound, Antarctica. The man from Earth (Watkins, having the same surname as the actor) expresses condolences over the death of Powell, and informs the crew that their request for radiation shielding has been denied. Cutbacks in Congress have made it impossible to help the crew with the ship’s increasing technical issues: malfunctions, radiation leaks, failing life support and communication systems, the loss of the crew’s entire supply of toilet paper, etc. In spite of this refusal to help, Watkins puts on an encouraging smile and speaks of having every confidence in the crew to solve their problems themselves…as if that were sufficient compensation for having left them all in the lurch.
I see this sci-fi story as an allegory for late imperialism, in which the continuing drive to colonize, extract natural resources, wage endless wars to maintain global dominance, and maximize profit are not only increasing suffering worldwide, but are also harming the imperial core in such forms as rising neofascism, worsening economic crises, and destruction of the environment. The worsening breakdowns and malfunctions of the spaceship, which is used to destroy unstable planets for the sake of facilitating the colonization of space, can be seen to symbolize our end-of-times predicament today.
In this sense, as absurd as the story of Dark Star may be, it can also be seen as prophetic of our growing problems in the twenty-first century, and therefore it’s a warning to us all.
We next see shots of the spaceship approaching a planet the crew is about to blow up. Carpenter’s synthesizer is providing some dark, eerie music, which is fitting (in spite of how this film is supposed to be a comedy), given the settler-colonialist/imperialist allegory I’ve discussed.
Doolittle at first is having difficulty contacting Talby, who’s up at the top of the ship looking out at the stars, and there are technical problems with the communications system; the intercom won’t send Talby a clear transmission from Doolittle. As well as further establishing the extent of the technical issues of the spaceship, this problem also represents the sense of mutual alienation of the crew.
Once communication with Talby is established, him needing to give the other three a diameter approximation of the planet, they get ready to blow it up. Bomb #19 (which, like the ship’s other bombs, has AI, allowing it to think and speak, as well as making the bombs a parody of HAL 9000) is lowered out of the bomb bay. Pinback does a countdown, then drops the bomb, and the crew gets ready to put the ship into hyperdrive to clear away from the explosion.
It is here where, not only do we get a bit of a parody of 2001‘s “Stargate” sequence, but also a taste of O’Bannon’s special effect for seeing the stars fly at us, as they more famously do before the Millennium Falcon when it goes into hyperspace. Now Dark Star never directly inspired the Death Star, which as we know is also meant to destroy planets for the Galactic Empire, but a comparison of the spaceship here with the battle station of Star Wars makes it extremely tempting to imagine Lucas, who as I said above hired O’Bannon, being at least unconsciously inspired by Dark Star to create the Death Star. Certainly some have noted the shape of the ship as similar to the, however much larger, Star Destroyers. In any case, inspired or not, these comparisons reinforce my settler-colonialist/imperialist allegory of Dark Star.
Connected with my allegory is a discussion among the crew of where to go next to find an unstable planet to blow up, now that the current one has been successfully destroyed. Boiler mentions a 95% probability of intelligent life in the Horsehead Nebula sector, but Doolittle has no interest in that “bull” at all since the last time they found intelligent life, it was the reddish ‘beachball’ with two clawed feet that Pinback has taken onboard.
Doolittle’s dismissive contempt of alien life, as well as Pinback’s–let’s face it–abduction and kidnapping of the alien, demonstrates the crew’s racist and imperialist mindset. Remember–they’re space colonizers. Doolittle calls the alien “a damn mindless vegetable…looked like a limp balloon.” This attitude is allegorical of that of British colonizers taking the land away from indigenous people around the world. In spite of the comical spectacle of the film, Dark Star has a dark message.
Doolittle doesn’t care about intelligent life: he just wants to blow planets up. This mentality, in principle, is no different from colonizers like Columbus, who took over land and killed the aboriginals. Doolittle is similarly contemptuous towards Pinback, demonstrating again the mutual alienation among the crew, and also how imperialist/colonialist disregard for aboriginals can spill over into disregard for those of one’s own nation or ethnic group. Alienation is catching.
Boiler finds an 85% probability of an unstable planet in the Veil Nebula; it will probably go off its orbit and hit a star, so the Veil Nebula is the next destination for Dark Star. As they begin their journey there, Boiler puts on some music, “Benson, Arizona,” the country music theme song heard during the credits.
The song’s lyric essentially expresses the homesickness felt by the crew as they sail across the stars. The film’s setting is the mid-twenty-second century, and while the crew have aged only three years, they’ve been out in space for twenty Earth years. One issue the crew has to deal with, therefore, is how being cramped in this small spaceship for so long has been driving them crazy. Their mutual alienation, as well as the continuing deterioration of the ship, is only the tip of the iceberg.
The long, shaggy hair and beards of the crew made Tarantino think of hippies back when he first saw (and initially hated) Dark Star as a kid. That shaggy hairiness, combined with the crew’s indulging in various forms of tomfoolery to relieve their boredom (i.e., Pinback’s practical jokes, Boiler playing the knife game with a switchblade and firing a laser rifle, etc.), reminds me of the Swampmen in MASH. Hippies are supposed to be antiwar liberals, as were Hawkeye et al in the TV show; as we’ve learned over the past fifty years, though, the vicissitudes of time can make liberals bang the war drums as much as conservatives do.
After Doolittle does a video recording for the ship’s log, discussing such things as the deterioration of the ship and the ETA in the Veil Nebula, we see Dark Star going through space while the crew is rocking out to some 1960s blues-based guitar music. Then the ship’s computer, with the female voice, interrupts the men’s fun to warn them of a collision course they are on with an asteroid storm, which once they have gone through it, the technical problems of the ship will of course be even worse.
It’s interesting at this point to compare this film with another of Carpenter’s–The Thing. Both have an all-male cast who are isolated and have an alien among them that is hostile in intent. And just as Dark Star has a computer with a female voice, so does The Thing, the chess computer voiced by Adrienne Barbeau, which plays a game with RJ MacReady (played by Kurt Russell) at the beginning of the movie.
As I said in my analysis of The Thing, we can see a paradoxical merging of negative attitudes towards both women and men in Dark Star. Note how, on the one hand, there’s the lack of women on the ship (a computer’s voice is the only ‘female’ reality for the crew–it’s just an abstraction for the men) as well as the nudie centrefolds on the walls (the exposure of their anatomy removed for the sake of getting a more marketable G rating); yet on the other hand, the bumbling incompetence of the male crew, as well as their lack of mutual empathy, makes them hardly any superior to women.
The asteroid storm seems to be bound by an electromagnetic energy vortex, like one the crew encountered two years before. Presumably, the damage that that one caused to the ship hasn’t been adequately dealt with (i.e., the computer’s defensive circuits, which were destroyed in that other storm).
As the ship is going through the asteroid storm, we see a pinkish glow around it, representing some kind of defensive shield. Still, this isn’t good enough to prevent any damage, for the electromagnetic energy zaps the back of the ship, causing the bomb bay system to be activated. Bomb #20 is let out, programmed and ready to blow up. Carpenter’s synthesizer plays triplets of a chromatic ascension of two minor seconds over a tonic note, going up and changing key each time by a half step and adding to the tension of the moment.
Next, the computer tells Bomb #20 to return to the bomb bay. The AI system in the bombs all have a male voice, in contrast to the female voice of the computer. What’s interesting to note in this contrast also is the rationality of the computer as against the irrational stubbornness of the bomb, which insists that it ought to blow up simply because such is its programming, in spite of the fact that it received no command from the crew and left the bomb bay only because of a malfunction caused by the asteroid storm. Only after repeated arguing with the computer does the bomb return, saying, “Very well” in a slightly petulant tone.
The ship finally gets out of the asteroid storm. After Boiler’s and Pinback’s engaging, in their sleeping area, in a bit of the tomfoolery I described above, Doolittle leaves and goes into a dark room in which he has an odd keyboard instrument constructed of such things as glass water bottles and cans to produce tones. He plays it, though out of tempo. The music is presumably from Carpenter’s synthesizer, but it sounds a bit like a prepared piano.
All of these goings-on have to do with the crew trying to alleviate the boredom they feel between tense moments like the asteroid storms, as I mentioned above. After finishing his keyboard practice, Doolittle goes up to the top of the ship to give Talby some breakfast and to chat with him. The top has a transparent dome through which Talby likes to look out at the stars. Doolittle discusses his old surfing days back in Malibu, and how he wishes he had his surfboard with him so he could wax it.
Talby has isolated himself up in this domed area ever since Powell died. Doolittle worries that Talby spends too much time up here, and not enough time with the others. Talby thinks of encountering the Phoenix asteroids when the ship reaches the Veil Nebula; these circle the universe once every 12.3 trillion years, and Talby understands that they “glow with all the colours of the rainbow.” He’d love to see them.
We’ll come back to a fulfillment…of sorts…of these two men’s wishes by the end of the film.
Meanwhile, down below, Boiler wants to do a little target practice with the laser rifle by firing it at a metal square he’s placed in front of a door. Pinback tries to stop him.
Then, the computer tells Pinback that he has to feed the alien. He’s annoyed at having to do so…well, maybe he shouldn’t have taken it on board, then.
The following sequence was meant to be funny in a slapstick sort of way. Instead, I see an allegorical commentary on how settler-colonialists treat the indigenous people of the places they conquer.
The absurd physical appearance of this low-budget alien–a reddish, spotted beachball with two red, clawed feet–can be seen to represent how the racist colonialist regards the aboriginals as clownish-looking in their–in the opinion of the colonialist–odd attire and darker skin. The alien whimpers in a high-pitched voice, which can also be seen to represent the ‘strange’ language of the native.
Pinback originally thought the alien was “cute”; now, he just finds it annoying. This is not quite so unlike the white racist who imagines blacks to be all just a bunch of entertaining song-and-dance men; then, when they show their wish to be more than that, he is annoyed with them.
Pinback complains about having to do all the work and getting no appreciation–I can hear echoes of “the white man’s burden” here–then the alien jumps on his back. As I said above, this intended slapstick comedy would eventually become the terror of the stowaway xenomorph in 1979’s Alien. Thematic connections between Dark Star and Alien can be seen in how a ship’s crew–alienated from each other and from their own species-essences–are taking aboard an alien to exploit it in some way (as the Weyland-Yutani Corporation would use the xenomorph as a weapon), rather than let it go to live its own life.
Pinback would use the alien as Dark Star‘s ‘mascot,’ but it has other ideas…naturally. Since the comedy of this sequence doesn’t exactly work, I find it more useful to allegorize it as an instance of the native attempting an insurrection against the colonizer.
The crew of Dark Star are space colonizers, who as I’ve said are allegorical of colonizers here on Earth. Space is thus allegorical of the oceans of the world, the spaceship is the colonizer’s sea vessel, the planets are the islands or other lands of the natives, and of course the ‘beachball’ alien is a native. Now, unstable planets, which are a threat to the space colonizers, can be seen as allegorical of unstable, restive, or rebellious societies that are prone to revolution when colonizers try to control them…hence the need to crush them, or in the case of Dark Star, to blow them up. It is in this context that we should understand the actions of the alien on the ship.
Not only does the alien jump on Pinback and disobey him when he wants it to go back into the dark storage room it was initially in, but it also fights back when Pinback tries disciplining it by hitting it with a broom. Later, it lures him into the ship’s elevator shaft…right when the elevator’s to be activated randomly due to more malfunctions, thus putting Pinback in danger. The alien jumps him there, too, putting him in greater danger, since the elevator is about to descend while he’s still hanging there.
He manages to survive and get out of there, but by that time, the alien has activated the bomb’s circuits, which will cause Bomb #20 to emerge from the bomb bay again when not wanted to do so. All of these acts of the alien should not be trivialized as being merely “mischievous,” as the Wikipedia article on the movie characterizes them; they are an attempted rebellion against colonizers.
Once again, the computer has to convince the headstrong bomb to return to the bomb bay, as the crew has not ordered the destruction of an unstable planet yet; after all, they haven’t yet reached the Veil Nebula. Bomb #20 complies again, yet it’s even more petulant and reluctant about it, since blowing up is its whole raison d’être.
It says that this will be the last time it complies, ominously. This AI system is clearly insistent on having its own way, which is not only indicative of how irrational it is, but also how dangerous it is to everyone impacted by it…rather like HAL in 2001, or any misused technology, for that matter.
Now that Pinback is safe, he’s pissed at the alien. He strides through a hall and gets a tranquilizer gun, and as he does so, we hear a military beat played on a snare drum. This music is fitting, given he’s one of the space colonists about to show the, as it were, indigenous alien who’s boss, like a true imperialist. His intention is to discipline the alien with a tranquilizing, not to kill it…though the shot from the gun does kill it, making it deflate and fly about the place like an actual beachball; Pinback surmises it was full of gas.
The almost comical way that the alien dies is tragically apt, given the slight regard colonizers have always had for their victimized natives. Keep in mind how the IDF have joked about and celebrated, in cruelly ghoulish fashion, their brutal killing of the dehumanized Palestinians. Note, in this connection, Pinback’s words on shooting the alien: “Now it’s time to go sleepy-pie, you worthless piece of garbage.”
Doolittle, in his incompetence, couldn’t care about the increasing technical issues of the ship any more than he does about Pinback’s traumatizing incident with the alien in the elevator shaft, or whether or not there’s any intelligent life in the Veil Nebula. These three forms of apathy are interrelated, as far as my allegory of late imperialism and colonialism are concerned.
Doolittle personifies the oligarchs, neocons, and neoliberals today who know of all the dangers we face today on our dying planet, yet do nothing substantive about it; he also personifies the lack of empathy for others’ suffering that is so endemic today; and since intelligent, alien life corresponds with indigenous people in my allegory, then Doolittle in his lack of caring about such life represents the slight regard colonialists have towards natives.
Talby, on the other hand, does care about the new damage the ship has sustained, so he goes to take a look and see if he can repair it. It’s significant that the door to the Computer Room, which Talby is headed to, is shaped like a coffin. In this room, he is going to find out how fatal the damage will be if it isn’t properly repaired. There’s a break in the communications laser down by the emergency airlock.
Meanwhile Pinback wants to tell Dolittle and Boiler the story of how he came to be one of the crew on Dark Star, but the other two, having heard it before a few years ago, don’t want to hear it again. Pinback tells the story anyway, which includes his name not really being Pinback, but Bill Froug (after William Froug, an American TV writer and producer). He replaced the real Pinback after he took off his uniform, ran naked into a fuel tank, and killed himself; Froug then put on the uniform and was rushed onto the ship, which was just about to go off on its mission.
This switching of identities represents Pinback’s alienation from his species-essence; such an alienation can be tied to his alienation from his fellow crew members. Accordingly, he complains in video recordings of how unfairly he’s treated by the rest of the crew. Alienation can also explain why the real Pinback would rather kill himself than go on the ship.
With the help of the computer, Talby has found the source of the malfunction: communication laser 17 has been damaged, which happened during the asteroid storm. This laser monitors the jettison primer on the bomb drop mechanism. Not fixing this will lead to Dark Star not destroying the unstable planet in Veil Nebula, but destroying itself. According to my allegory, this fatal negligence represents late imperialism destroying itself.
The laser is located in the emergency airlock, so Talby will put on a spacesuit and go in there to try to repair the malfunction. While he’s doing this, the ship is approaching the unstable planet to be destroyed. Talby wants to tell Doolittle about the damage, but the latter doesn’t want to hear about it, since he, Boiler, and Pinback are about to have Bomb #20 come out and blow up the planet.
The communications laser has been damaged. The commander of the ship doesn’t want to listen to Talby’s warning of the damage. Bomb #20, with its petulant, stubborn male voice, doesn’t want to listen to the computer’s command to return to the bomb bay and abort its aim to blow up. All these men are going to die…because of a lack of communication.
Talby attempts to repair the laser, but he is temporarily blinded by a sudden flash of light, he staggers, and walks into the path of the laser beam, causing far more serious damage to the ship’s computer. The bomb’s release mechanism is disabled, causing Bomb #20 to be stuck in the bomb bay, just when the crew is doing a countdown to detonation.
Here we see the contradictions of colonialism and imperialism as the seeds to their own destruction. The destruction of unstable planets represents the colonizer’s taking over and destroying the worlds of the natives, not caring about the life there, if there even is life there. The excess of this destruction eventually falls back onto oneself, especially when there’s little regard for the safety and proper functioning of one’s own equipment. Imperialism leads to alienation and apathy towards one’s fellow man, which in turn leads to one’s own destruction.
When the crew realizes they can’t get Bomb #20, counting down to its detonation, to be released so they can get away from the explosion, they of course panic. Doolittle commands the bomb to stand down, but the AI in it refuses to. The damaged computer can’t do anything to save the crew.
Doolittle’s only course of action, bizarrely, is to go and revive a dead man–Commander Powell–and ask him how to stop the bomb. Powell, recall, is in a state of cryogenic suspension…a kind of life in death. This idea is a manifestation of a theme that now comes into prominence in Dark Star: the dialectical relationship between existence and non-existence, between life and death.
Powell is strangely alive and dead at the same time. He’s being held in a freezer compartment. When he speaks to Doolittle, it’s in a weak voice, like someone tripping out on drugs.
Powell tells Doolittle to teach the bomb about phenomenology, an objective investigation of the nature of subjective, conscious experience. Doolittle gets in a spacesuit, does an EVA, and begins to have a philosophical discussion with Bomb #20. We can see in this the absurdist comedy of trying to find meaning among self-aware beings about to die, anyway.
The bomb is made aware of Cartesian doubt, that is, how does it know that it exists, and how can it be sure that everything around it exists? The bomb doubts, so it thinks and therefore exists. But if the existence of all other things around it is in doubt, how does the bomb know it has truly received an order to detonate? It pauses its countdown to detonation to ponder these matters further, just in the nick of time, causing Doolittle practically to swoon in relief.
In this Cartesian doubt, we once again see the theme of dialectical unity between existence and non-existence. The theme also exists in how the bomb’s whole reason for existing is to blow up and cause non-existence…what will cause the bomb to blow up, anyway, in spite of the doubtfulness of its externally-derived orders to do so. After all, the safe and stable existence of the space colonizers is dependent on the destruction and, therefore, non-existence of unstable planets that threaten colonization…rather like white colonizers’ ethnic cleansing of natives.
Meanwhile, Boiler thinks he can break the bomb free of the ship by taking that laser rifle he was using before for target practice and shoot the support pins out. Pinback knows Boiler’s idea is crazy, as he’s a bad shot. The two fight. Here, we see, not just a lack of communication leading to late imperialism’s self-destruction (allegorically speaking), but also how fighting and a lack of cooperation or mutual aid lead to it. Boiler wants to use violence to solve the problem; both he and Pinback are throwing punches at each other.
Once the bomb has stood down to ponder its Cartesian doubt, Boiler and Pinback realize they no longer need to fight, so they leave the area where the gun is and return to their stations.
The bomb, however, has decided to go off after all, since as I said above, blowing up is its whole raison d’être. Non-existence is the reason for its existence. Understanding that only itself is provably existent, while absolutely nothing else can be provably so, Bomb #20 goes into a state of solipsism: it’s like Descartes proving his own existence, yet not proceeding to prove the existence of anything else.
This solipsism is thus like the bomb’s rationalization for narcissistic self-absorption. Only it exists, so only it matters; and if its only reason to exist is to destroy itself and become non-existent, then so…be…it. Narcissism leads to the destruction of all of us.
In a horrifying irony, it prefaces its act of annihilation by alluding to the first few verses of chapter one of Genesis, speaking narcissistically as if it were God, bringing about the Creation of the universe. It says, “Let there be light,” and blows up. Yahweh has thus become Shiva, who in destruction allows a new cycle of birth, life, and death to begin. Existence in non-existence.
Just before the ship has been blown up, Doolittle asked Boiler and Pinback to let him back into the ship. They opened the emergency hatch, but Talby was just by it, so he’s been thrown out into space, and Doolittle has to go off to fetch him. With the ship blown up, and Boiler and Pinback dead, Doolittle and Talby see the pieces of the ship floating by in space. The best that the damaged computer could do to mitigate the severity of the blast was to reduce its diameter to a mile around the ship; hence, the unstable planet hasn’t been blown up, and Doolittle and Talby have only been thrown clear, floating in opposite directions.
Though they’re both soon to die, Doolittle and Talby will, in a way, have their earlier wishes fulfilled. The latter will not only get to see the Phoenix asteroids, but he’ll also be carried away with them…to circle the universe forever. He’s thus a kind of Phoenix rising from the ashes of his world’s whole destruction. He’s found heaven in hell, existence in non-existence.
Doolittle sees Powell spinning away in a block of ice. He, too, is experiencing life in death, existence in non-existence. Finally, Doolittle gets his hands on a ladder from the floating debris of the ship. He’ll use this as a kind of makeshift surfboard, and he’ll surf his way to the planet as a falling star and die there, a genuinely funny visual to end the movie, during which we’ll also hear “Benson, Arizona” again during the end credits.
Now, I’m not saying that the comic book superhero had any direct influence on the movie, but I find it irresistible to make an association between the two here. Doolittle, in his silver spacesuit and on the silver ladder-as-surfboard, looks like the Silver Surfer going through space. I find this comparison apt when we consider Dark Star‘s Galactus-like mission, the destruction/consumption of worlds. Doolittle was the herald, as it were, of the mission, and since he’d do little to repair the malfunctioning ship, his destruction of others heralded his own destruction as a falling star.
His fate is rather like how our own short-sighted imperialists, colonialists, and other oligarchs are heralding our and their own destruction, the falling stars of the West.
Analysis of ‘MASH’
I: Introduction
MASH: A Novel about Three Army Doctors was written by Richard Hooker (with the help of WC Heinz) and published in 1968. It was adapted into the 1970 feature film by Robert Altman (with a screenplay by Ring Lardner, Jr.), which starred Donald Sutherland, Elliott Gould, and Tom Skerritt, with Robert Duvall, Sally Kellerman, René Auberjonois, Roger Bowen, Fred Williamson, and Gary Burghoff.
From these came the long-running hit TV series (1972-1983) whose original cast included Alan Alda, Wayne Rogers, McLean Stevenson, Larry Linville, Loretta Swit, William Christopher (except for the pilot episode, which had George Morgan as Father Mulcahy), Timothy Brown, and Burghoff. Both the film and TV series use the story’s setting, a US Mobile Army Surgical Hospital in the Korean War, as an allegory for the Vietnam War.
Neither Hooker nor Altman liked the TV series, feeling it took the story in the opposite direction of its original purpose. In contrast to the liberal, anti-war stance of the series, with its tendency to advocate progressive causes (e.g., opposition to discrimination against blacks, tolerance of gays, equality of the sexes), Hooker was politically conservative. In fact, the novel uses a number of racial slurs (particularly against Asians, as opposed to Alda’s Hawkeye calling out US troops for referring to Koreans as “gooks”; only bigotry against blacks is judged by Hawkeye as wrong), and its protagonists tend to refer to women as “broads.” In the film, the MASH unit’s dentist wants to commit suicide because a moment of erectile dysfunction has made him worry he’s become a “fairy.”
Here‘s a link to a PDF of the novel, a link to an audiobook of it, and a link to quotes from the film.
II: Political Background
As for the contrast between the liberal TV series and the conservative/apolitical novel and film, though, I’d place these contrasting stances at the centre-left and right of a continuum. For as noble as it may be to talk about ending war, as is often wished for on the TV show (as opposed to the novel’s doctors’ indifference to the issue, and instead just wanting to finish their time in the army and return home), the real left-wing stance, the one that is truly to be contrasted with the general stance of the entire MASH franchise, is that the US Army should never have meddled in Korea in the first place, as was the case with Vietnam, too, the aforementioned allegory of the story.
Conventional wisdom would have us believe that, during the Cold War, the capitalist ‘free world’ had to contain and stop the spread of communism, therefore both North Korea and North Vietnam had to be stopped by American military intervention. Actually, as had been revealed years later, the Gulf of Tonkin incident that was used to justify greater American involvement in Vietnam was a lie. Similarly, the conventional narrative that a North Korean invasion of South Korea, which would involve Soviet and Maoist Chinese involvement, started the war was also based on dishonest accounts from hawks like MacArthur, as is related in IF Stone‘s Hidden History of the Korean War, 1950-1951. These wars were just exercises in, and excuses for, US imperialism.
It is further assumed that South Korea is the free, liberal democracy, and that North Korea is the brutal, totalitarian dictatorship. Actually, South Korea has been occupied by the US ever since just after the end of WWII, hardly giving the people a breather after the Japanese occupation of the land, with its exploitation of Korean ‘comfort women.’ US troops soon would also use Korean women as prostitutes to satisfy the men’s lust.
As for the ‘totalitarian DPRK,’ while it’s surely difficult living there because of Western economic sanctions placed on the country, living in a place that provides (or at least strives to provide…sanctions notwithstanding) free or affordable housing, healthcare, education, and other basic needs is far better than living in a country of cutthroat capitalism, the kind that causes the poverty dramatized in films like Parasite. People in the West might also want to reconsider how ‘free’ they are in a world drowning in neoliberal capitalism.
So when we contrast the TV series of MASH, on the one side, against the novel and film, what we’re really dealing with is a culture war of liberal vs conservative, not left vs right. Everyone knows that conservatives are on the right, of course. Liberals, though, are properly understood to be swaying whichever way the political wind happens to be blowing at the time. During the decade that the TV series was on the air, that political wind blew in a relatively leftward direction. Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear should be able to understand which direction liberals have been blowing under leaders like Clinton, Obama, Biden, Tony Blair, Justin Trudeau, etc.
Seen in a broader political context, conservatism vs liberalism is just moderate-to-extreme right-wing infighting. This context will help us understand the MASH franchise as a whole.
III: Foreword, Chapters One and Two
After a brief foreword–in which Hooker explains how the paradoxical combination of stress from overwork and nothing-to-do boredom, from living and working in a MASH unit during the Korean War, made some of the staff into insubordinate, scruffy, badly-behaved alcoholics (i.e., the Swampmen)–the book goes into a description of Corporal “Radar” O’Reilly (Burghoff), and where he is from–Ottumwa, Iowa. He’s called “Radar” because he has ESP: he can “receive messages and monitor conversations far beyond the usual range of human hearing.”
Radar, sitting at a poker game in the Painless Polish Poker and Dental Clinic of the 4077th MASH, can hear the commanding officer of the unit, Lt. Col. Henry Blake (Bowen; Stevenson), shouting into his phone in his office that he needs two surgeons. In the film, Radar demonstrates his ESP by saying Blake’s words just as Blake is saying them, standing outside, by a chopper with wounded.
The two doctors that the 4077th will get are Captains Benjamin Franklin Pierce, or “Hawkeye” (Sutherland; Alda), and Augustus Bedford Forrest, or “Duke” (Skerritt). Hawkeye got his nickname from his father, who read The Last of the Mohicans; he’s from Crabapple Cove, Maine. Duke is from Georgia; the character never appears in the TV series, though in a season 3 episode, when asked what happened to “that surgeon you had from Georgia”, the answer given is, “He got sent stateside!”
From the physical description given Hawkeye in the novel, Sutherland looked a lot more like him than Alda. He and Duke steal a jeep and drink a bottle of alcohol on their way from Transient Officers’ Quarters at the 325th Evacuation Hospital in Yong-Dong-Po to the 4077th. Both men are married and with kids; but that won’t stop them from fooling around.
They come into Ouijongbu, where they drive past The Famous Club Service Whorehouse, which has contributed much to the venereal disease problem faced by the US Army Medical Corps. An American flag is seeing flying from its central edifice. Such signs as these, in combination with the irreverent attitude of Hawkeye, Duke, and the other Swampmen to be introduced later, illustrate the imperialist encroachments on Korea.
Hawkeye’s plan on arriving at the 4077th is for him and Duke to work so hard as surgeons that they outclass the other talent there. They’ll thus be able to get away with their insubordination and other acts of naughtiness.
Arriving at the 4077th, Hawkeye and Duke go into the mess hall and meet Blake, who already thinks they’re “a pair of weirdos.” He tells them they’ll be living with Major Hobson in his tent; Blake would have Radar told of the order, but Radar’s already there to take them, thanks to his ESP.
The film takes Hobson and merges him with Frank Burns (Duvall; Linville), who is a captain in the novel, but because of this merging, becomes a major in the film and TV series. Hobson’s/Burns’s praying for everybody is comical and annoying to the non-religious Hawkeye and Duke, who insist that Blake get him out of their tent; the two also insist that Blake get a chest surgeon. This will result in the arrival of Captain “Trapper” John McIntyre (Gould; Rogers).
IV: Chapter Three
McIntyre is from Winchester High Medical School, in Boston. His face is hiding inside a parka hood when he meets everybody, and at first he seems aloof, laconic, and introverted. Hawkeye finds him familiar, though.
It’s when Hawkeye offers McIntyre a martini that he finally comes out of his shell, happily accepting the martini but insisting on olives for his, Hawkeye’s, and Duke’s drinks. He has a bottle of olives in his parka pocket, so all three can have one.
Hawkeye is still trying to remember where he’s seen McIntyre before. One day, the latter picks up a football that’s just landed at his feet. He throws a perfect pass to Hawkeye, who’s now racking his brain trying to remember who McIntyre is. Finally, he realizes that McIntyre is “Trapper” John, an old football player from the Boston/Maine area.
He got his nickname after being caught fooling around with a woman in the ladies’ room at the Boston and Maine train. She said to the conductor, who found her with McIntyre, “He trapped me!”
It’s interesting how, when Hawkeye finally remembers, he says, “Jesus to Jesus and eight hands around, Duke!” Trapper is replacing a major who prays to Jesus. Trapper, in Chapter Seven, will dress up as Jesus in a scheme to raise money to help a Korean houseboy, Ho-Jon (played by Kim Atwood in the film, and by Patrick Adiarte on the TV show), go to the US to study in a university there. There’s a lot of Christian imagery in the novel and film, though it’s usually presented in an irreverent way. Chaplin Father Mulcahy (Auberjonois; Christopher) is well-liked, but derogatorily nicknamed “Dago Red” for his mixed Irish-Italian descent and his red hair.
V: Chapter Four
In this chapter, we learn that the tent that Hawkeye, Duke, and Trapper are sleeping in will be called The Swamp, hence the three are known as the Swampmen. A sign, in big capital letters saying THE SWAMP, is painted in red on the door of the tent.
It’s called The Swamp in part because the tent resembles “the kind of haunt one might come across in a bog”…in other words, the place is a mess. It’s also the centre of social activity in the 4077th, where the three doctors do their boozing.
When one combines the Dionysian messiness of The Swamp with the sloppiness of the three doctors–that is, their often being unshaved and without the short haircuts one would expect of not just army men, but men of pre-Beatles Western society–we see in their sloppy appearance, as well as in the (often mean) pranks they pull on others and their general contempt for authority, a personification of the kind of mess the US army left Korea in by the end of the war.
A certain group of people are mostly marginalized in the novel, film, and TV series–the Koreans, played mostly by Japanese-American and Chinese-American actors. (The situation with Ho-Jon, to be dealt with below, is one of the few exceptions to the rule of marginalization.) As I said above, racial slurs against Asians are used a number of times in the novel, including by our presumably sympathetic Swampmen. As I’ve also mentioned, Ho-Jon is one of many Korean houseboys, there to do menial chores for the American army hospital staff–in other words, their servants. Finally, I’ve mentioned the reality of Korean prostitution for American GIs, something acknowledged in the novel, but never judged.
This marginalization and racism should form the backdrop of what is the biggest issue of the Korean War, but one rarely given scrutiny in the West: how the US military bombed and destroyed pretty much everything in North Korea. 20% of the total population was killed. The US made a messy swamp, if you will, of North Korea. This reality might help Westerners to understand why the DPRK now has nuclear weapons–not to attack other nations, but to defend themselves. The collective trauma the surviving North Koreans suffered from those bombings meant they were determined never to let it happen again.
Audiences are charmed and amused by the Swampmen’s wisecracking, pranks, and general defiance of US military authority. While I am in principle sympathetic to such defiance, one must take into consideration the fact that one shouldn’t just defy authority for its own sake; one should instead look into the evils caused by that authority and direct one’s defiance against it with an aim to stop those evils.
The Swampmen in the novel and film aren’t interested in directing their defiance with such aims. They just want their fun and games (golf, football, drinking, poker, chasing women, etc.) to be uninterrupted by the officious military. Unlike the more progressively-minded Hawkeye and Trapper of the TV show, the novel’s and film’s Swampmen are just self-absorbed hedonists. As such, they fit in well, ironically, with the US empire’s depredations in East Asia.
One example of a victim of the Swampmen’s depredations is a Protestant chaplain named Shaking Sammy. In Chapter Four, we learn that this chaplain has a bad habit of writing overly optimistic letters to the families of wounded soldiers without inquiring into whether or not these soldiers’ wounds could have resulted in lethalities. Shaking Sammy will tell the soldiers’ families that all is well, and the soldiers will be home soon, for example…yet the soldiers in question could be dead, thus cruelly getting the families’ hopes up, only to be crushed when the truth is known to them.
He’s been warned repeatedly not to send such misguidedly optimistic messages, yet he still does it. Furious with Shaking Sammy, Duke and Hawkeye have him see them use their .45s to shoot all four tires of his jeep. Justice has been done, it seems.
Soon after dealing with a particularly difficult patient who, it seems at first, isn’t going to live, yet with the help of Father Mulcahy’s “remarkably effective Cross Action,” the doctors are able to save the wounded soldier after all. Hawkeye and Duke, very drunk, decide to show their gratitude to Mulcahy for his prayers.
They do so in the form of what Hawkeye calls “a human sacrifice”, and for their sacrificial victim, they choose Shaking Sammy, imagining in their total inebriation that Mulcahy will appreciate this ‘gift.’ Tying Sammy to a cross and surrounding him with a pile of hay and assorted inflammable junk on the ground, Hawkeye, Duke, and Trapper are lying on mattresses by him. Duke has a Molotov cocktail in his hand, and it looks as if Sammy’s about to be immolated.
Indeed, the contents of a gasoline can are poured on the debris surrounding Sammy as well as on him. Mulcahy watches the scene in horror, hoping to stop the Swampmen. Duke lights the Molotov cocktail and throws it at Sammy, who screams. It turns out, though, that it wasn’t gasoline that’s been poured on him and his “funeral pyre.” The Molotov just sizzles and goes out.
So no, they didn’t kill Sammy, but they gave him one hell of a scare. This is an example of how mean and excessive the Swampmen’s pranks can be. Another example, from the film, is the famous dropping of the shower tent, exposing the nakedness of the beautiful but disliked head nurse before the entire camp, publicly humiliating her.
The Swampmen know they can get away with this kind of scurrilous behaviour because of their skill as surgeons, and because of how needed they are when the wounded come into the 4077th, as will be the case soon after the prank pulled on Shaking Sammy. Three companies of Canadians will be coming in, flooding the 4077th with casualties, as Hawkeye is aware. The surgeons can’t operate while under arrest.
Tying Sammy to a cross and making him into a “human sacrifice,” a chaplain made into a kind of lamb of God to take away the sin of the world, is an example of the novel’s use of Christian imagery to ridicule religion. As I said above, the Swampmen stick their tongues out at authority, including the authority of the Church, not to right any wrongs inflicted by the powers-that-be, but simply to be enfants terribles for the sheer fun of it. However ill-conceived the optimism may be of Sammy’s letters, he has been cruelly and unusually punished for them.
VI: Chapter Five
Captain Walter Koskiusko Waldowski (played by John Schuck) is the dentist of the 4077th. He’s known as “The Painless Pole” because of his amazing skill at doing dentistry without it hurting his patients. His dental clinic is also where poker games are played, so he is the most popular man in the outfit. Apart from poker and dentistry, his greatest hobby is women.
He’s well-endowed, too…so much so that whenever he takes a shower, other men stop by to see his equipment with awe and admiration. I suspect he’s bipolar, though, since according to the novel, he suffers monthly bouts of depression, each one lasting anywhere from twenty-four hours to about three days. On one particular occasion, he tells the Swampmen he wants to commit suicide because of one moment of impotence.
Hence the song, “Suicide Is Painless,” as the MASH theme music, heard in instrumental form on the TV show, and for the film, with a lyric by Mike Altman, the then 14-year-old son of Robert Altman (music by Johnny Mandel). The song is sung twice in the film, first by “The Mash” (John and Tom Bahler, Ron Hicklin, and Ian Freebairn-Smith) during the opening credits, then by Ken Prymus (playing Private Seidman) during the scene of Painless’s suicide attempt.
Duke and Hawkeye suggest that Painless use a “black capsule” to kill himself with. The Swampmen et al have no intention, of course, of letting Painless kill himself; their plan instead is to cure him of his suicide ideation by, ironically, indulging him in it. This plan, along with their helping Ho-Jon to go to an American university, is one of the few genuinely charitable acts of the Swampmen in the novel or film, which in turn makes them even remotely likable.
They plan to put amytal, a barbiturate derivative with sedative-hypnotic properties, into Painless’s “black capsule.” They figure he’ll take it after getting him drunk, then when he wakes up, he’ll be OK.
On the night of the supposed suicide, everyone will have a party for Painless in his dental clinic/poker hangout. The party is called “The Last Supper”; in the film, there’s even a shot of all the men seated at a pair of long tables as a parody of Leonardo da Vinci’s painting.
Painless is more or less at the centre, where Christ is in the painting. So this scene is another example of MASH using Christian imagery and concepts irreverently. Christ, after His Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, accepted His impending death on the Cross; Painless is about to die (or so he thinks). Christ was raised from the dead; Painless will rise from…well…a death-like state, anyway.
The irony here is that Painless’s salvation will come by a suicide attempt, the ultimate loss of faith, whereas we are saved by Christ through faith. In wanting to save one’s life, one will lose it; but in losing one’s life for Christ, one saves it (Luke 9:24). His yoke is easy, and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). Suicide is painless. ‘Tis a consummation/Devoutly to be wished (Hamlet, Act III, Scene i). Fittingly, Mike Altman’s lyric quotes “to be or not to be.”
Suicide is painless because, of course, life is painful. Part of the ostensible purpose of religion is to provide solace for that pain. One ‘loses’ one’s life, for the sake of Christ, or to attain nirvana, to achieve painlessness…hence the Painless Pole is a kind of Christ figure, if comically so.
Koreans were historically Buddhist and/or Confucian, and such thinking is still quite influential there today, but it has waned somewhat in the modern world, with today’s influence of secular thinking and Christianity. We’ll learn that Ho-Jon is Christian, and with his trip to the US to study there, he’ll be further inculcated with such Western ideas.
The point is that Western imperialism’s encroachment on Korea has its cultural as well as military aspects, so the Christian imagery in MASH is apt, even if presented irreverently. The irreverence is just part of the theme of defiance of authority for its own sake: it never rights wrongs. As long as liberals can enjoy imperialist privileges in the countries the West occupies, they’ll give the finger to authority all they like, and it won’t make a real difference to the occupied.
Anyway, to get back to Painless, in the novel, while he’s sedated from the amytal in the black capsule, a blue ribbon has been tied to his cock (implying the return of his sexual prowess), he’s been hooked to a harness and dropped from a helicopter (Is this to imply that he’s supposed to believe that he died, harrowed heaven, then had a resurrection back on Earth?); all of this has apparently ended his depression and suicide ideation. As for the film, during his sedation, the gorgeous nurse, Lt. “Dish” Schneider (played by Jo Ann Pflug in the film and by Karen Philipp on the TV series), has been asked by Hawkeye to sleep with Painless and thus allay his fear that he’s becoming a “fairy.” She does so, and his depression is cured.
VII: Chapter Six
This chapter deals essentially with Frank Burns (Duvall; Linville), a captain before the film and TV series promoted him to major. Hawkeye hates him more than anyone else. Burns will never admit his faults as a surgeon, blaming any problems or deaths on someone else, or they’re held to be acts of God. He also has a $35,000 home and two cars back in the States; he has no formal training in surgery, having learned from his father.
On one occasion, a patient in Burns’s care dies after a rather simple hospital staff worker, Private Lorenzo Boone (played by Bud Cort) tries to use a non-functioning suction machine on the patient. Burns claims Boone killed the patient. Not being very bright, Boone assumes Burns’s opinion, as a doctor, is of infallible authority, and he is overwhelmed with guilt and weeps over the death.
Duke sees this exchange, and he hits Burns. In the film, it’s Trapper who sees it and hits him; in the novel, Trapper hits him on a later occasion.
Burns will develop a mutual admiration for and romantic interest in the new Chief Nurse, Major Margaret Houlihan (Kellerman; Swit). While in the book and the film, Burns will be kicked out of the 4077th and sent stateside after he physically attacks Hawkeye for taunting him about his (in the novel, only rumoured) sexual relationship with her, in the TV series, both Burns and Houlihan will stay at the MASH and personify the hated army authoritarianism that the Swampmen rebel against. But again, it’s a self-absorbed, American antagonism between the two sides that has little, if anything, to do with leaving the Koreans alone.
VIII: Chapter Seven
This is the chapter in which the Swampmen raise money to help their Korean houseboy, Ho-Jon, go to the US to study in university there. As I said above, this is one of their few charitable acts in the novel. Even with this one, though, there are some qualifying factors to consider.
As I’ve tried to argue from the beginning, the Americans shouldn’t have been in Korea in the first place. A few scruffy American doctors sticking their tongues out at military authoritarians does nothing to compensate for the damage caused to the Koreans by occupying, bombing, prostituting, and forcing capitalism on them.
If the Koreans had wanted to pursue socialism after the end of the Japanese occupation, then that was their prerogative. Imposing starvation sanctions on the DPRK, and then claiming disingenuously that their problems are all because ‘socialism doesn’t work,’ has been a tried-and-true tactic that Western imperialism had used on a number of occasions, including Cuba and Venezuela. If ‘socialism doesn’t work,’ then just let the countries attempting to build it fail on their own, and after a few months, they should be running back crying to the capitalist West for salvation. Instead, consider what Cuba, burdened with an economic embargo from the 1960s, has been able to achieve.
Ho-Jon would be properly described as an Asian Uncle Tom. He thinks his Swampmen masters are “the three greatest people in the world.” Sure, the three doctors are good to him: they allow him to spend time with them in The Swamp when he isn’t shining their shoes, doing their laundry, etc.; they help him with his English. All of this can be seen as simple rewards for the boy’s loyalty to them. Accordingly, they like him as much as he likes them.
Ho-Jon still has to fight in the war, though, despite the attempts of Blake and the Swampmen to intercede with the Korean government…he’s seventeen at the time, and he gets wounded, with a mortar fragment in his chest. He thus returns to the 4077th to be operated on by Hawkeye and Trapper.
After the surgery and Ho-Jon is getting better, the Swampmen are debating which college would be the best one for him to study in. After briefly considering Dartmouth and Georgia (the latter being a place where the KKK won’t take kindly to an Asian being there), the Swampmen agree on Androscoggin College. Hawkeye writes to the dean, who replies, saying Ho-Jon will need a thousand dollars a year. To raise the money, which will probably add up to five or six thousand, including travel and expenses other than the aforementioned tuition, the Swampmen decide to have Trapper, as hairy as he is, dress up like Jesus, and sell photos of ‘Him.’
Mulcahy doesn’t like the idea of religion for money, but the Swampmen know “there are a lot of screwballs in the army” who will buy the photos for laughs and souvenirs, and there doesn’t seem to be any other way to raise money for Ho-Jon. Once again, MASH uses Christianity irreverently, and we see in it more of Western culture imposed on Korea.
By “more of Western culture impose on Korea,” I mean that Trapper’s clowning around in a Jesus outfit in South Korea and making money from the photos is a symbolic presentation of Christian missionary work and capitalism nosing their way around Asia to spread their influence among the locals. Ho-Jon is already a Christian–that is, he’s been indoctrinated with Western values and ethics–and he’s about to be educated in an American university. The Swampmen are content to work to raise money to send their friend there and be further indoctrinated. Consider in this connection how much money the American government has given to South Korea to keep the country under its spell.
IX: Chapters Eight and Nine
A soldier whose father is a US Congressman has been wounded, and the Congressman wants Trapper to fly to Japan with an assistant doctor, Hawkeye, and do emergency surgery on the boy. The doctors’ major motivation in going to Japan, though, is to play golf there. They even bring their golf clubs with them.
When they get there, Hawkeye reconnects with an old friend, “Me Lay” Marston, who is an anesthesiologist and helps a Japanese doctor run a pediatric hospital that doubles as a whorehouse. In fact, the place unabashedly calls itself “Dr. Yamamoto’s Finest Kind Pediatric Hospital and Whorehouse,” or FKPH&W, for short. This openness shouldn’t be all that surprising, for of course, the US military has been known for frequenting such places in East Asia, as I’ve mentioned above.
When the doctors are going to the operating area, an army nurse tries to stop them. During the operation, a colonel shows his disapproval of their barging in to the place. Neither of these people deter the doctors, obviously. Examples of their usual defiance of military authority can be seen in the film. Again, though, this defiance of authority is just about two men who want to get the surgery out of the way as soon as possible so they can play as much golf as they can get in. They don’t want to wait around for the right people to arrive so they can be authorized to operate. They’re not even dressed as doctors: they’re all scruffy and have their golf clubs with them. Military authority isn’t an oppression to be overthrown–it’s just an inconvenience.
Later, while Trapper and Hawkeye are playing golf, some women caddies there get the impression that Trapper is Jesus when Hawkeye says the Lord’s name in vain after Trapper has hit a good shot. Hawkeye still has some old Jesus photos of Trapper on him, so he gives them to the “bimboes…[who] are on a real Christian kick.”
Though it looks as if Trapper and Hawkeye are planning to get laid, and they even hope to hang out in FKPH&W, speaking of which place, Me Lay wants the two doctors to take care of a half-white, half-Japanese baby, the result of an American john and a careless prostitute there. The doctors deal with the baby’s medical problems and talk Me Lay into adopting the orphan.
That officious colonel, who doesn’t approve of the Swampmen’s dealings with the baby, is blackmailed with photos of himself in bed with a prostitute, so the doctors won’t get in trouble. After all of these adventures, though, the doctors must rush back to the 4077th to deal with a huge, seemingly endless deluge of wounded, which is what Chapter Nine is all about.
X: Chapter Ten
This chapter starts with a description of Captain “Ugly John” Black (played by Carl Gottlieb in the film, and by John Orchard in the TV series), the 4077th’s anesthesiologist, how important he is to the hospital, and how his work is never done. He’s called Ugly John in the novel as an ironic joke: he’s actually “the handsomest man in the outfit.” He also hates everyone in the Commonwealth Division: Brits, Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, etc.
Later on in the chapter, a new doctor arrives who is christened by Trapper with the nickname of “Jeeter.” He shares some martinis with the Swampmen, and as he’s getting tipsier and tipsier with each drink, Jeeter reveals how horny he is for the women there. He gets advice from Hawkeye on how he can get his hands on a nurse; while Hawkeye offers a few suggestions, he’s not sure which one is the best, so Trapper suggests that Jeeter announce his availability to all the nurses in the mess hall.
By now so drunk that he’s staggering, Jeeter goes to the mess hall with the help of the Swampmen, and standing at the doorway, he announces his availability in the crudest and most aggressive terms possible, shocking everyone there. Trapper can’t resist inspiring him to say he’ll start by screwing “Hot Lips” Houlihan.
Now, “Hot Lips” has been Major Houlihan’s official nickname, much to her chagrin, ever since her sexual relationship with Frank Burns. Trapper is the one who has christened her with the nickname, though in the film, it’s inspired by her telling Burns to “kiss [her] hot lips,” not knowing that a microphone has been surreptitiously placed by her in her tent where she and Burns have been making love.
Another surgeon, Roger the Dodger, arrives at the 4077th, and he’s inspired to shout out “Hot Lips Houlihan,” which will provoke her all the more.
In the novel, she races into Col. Blake’s tent, fresh from the showers and wildly irate. There’s no reference to a prank involving the shower tent dropping and exposing her nakedness to the whole 4077th, as in the movie, but it’s easy to see how the filmmakers took the idea of the prank as implied in the novel.
When she goes into Blake’s tent, the ends of her hair are still wet, and the strap of her shower cap is hanging from an end of her towel. She obviously ran out of the shower tent before she was finished in there, because the Swampmen, “those beasts, those THINGS,” have upset her so severely. She threatens she’ll resign her commission if Blake won’t do anything about them.
Blake couldn’t care less if she does. He never properly disciplines any of the Swampmen. As she says, the 4077th “isn’t a hospital…It’s an insane asylum,” and Blake is to blame for not using his authority to stop men like McIntyre from calling her “Hot Lips.”
This incident, especially as it’s represented in the film, underlines another unsavoury aspect of the original MASH that makes nonsense of the more progressive aspects of the TV series: its sexist attitude towards women. Houlihan may be a major, but she’s given no respect. In the TV series, especially the later seasons, much is made of her as a spokeswoman for sexual equality in the army.
Not so in the novel or film, where women are called “broads,” chased by the men for sex, objectified and exposed as described above, had orders barked at them by the Swampmen to do such things as cook for them, etc. All of this fits in line with the imperialist project of trying to control the entire Korean Peninsula, as well as Japan, where in both US-controlled places, there is prostitution provided for the GIs. A huge part of world domination is in controlling its women, as of the 2020s, just under 50% of the global population.
I never found the film’s shower scene with Houlihan amusing. It always came across to me as a mean, humiliating, demeaning prank devised by the immature Swampmen, all just to find out whether or not she’s a natural blonde. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: as charmless as army authoritarianism may be, cheap pranks like these are not the way to deal with it; they’re often not even funny.
Houlihan will try to get Blake in trouble by informing General Hammond (played by G. Wood) of how out of control the staff of the 4077th are. Ultimately, nothing will be done about it. Indeed, the general goes so far as to say, “Screw her.”
XI: Chapter Eleven
Blake has been sent to Japan for temporary duty at the Tokyo Army Hospital. He’s been replaced by Col. Horace DeLong for the three weeks that Blake is gone. DeLong, another regular army guy, will be quite dismayed with the erratic behaviour of the scruffy Swampmen, though he will come to respect Hawkeye for his skills as a surgeon.
Bored during a spell of no wounded, and suffering in the heat, the Swampmen get some amusement by pretending they’ve gone insane. They speak of mermaids as if they were real, and they tell DeLong that when they catch a mermaid, they’ll “screw the ass off her.” They figure that if they can convince DeLong that they’re nuts, they’ll be sent to some psychiatrists in Seoul for a while, then get sent back to the 4077th in time for when more wounded come.
To add to the craziness about mermaids, Hawkeye says he’ll agree to DeLong’s plan–to have the Swampmen go to the 325th Evac for psychiatric observation–if he can get “a shot at the epileptic whore,” an idea inspired by a psychiatrist Hawkeye once knew who had a female epileptic patient; she’d go crazy every time her husband tried to have sex with her. Hawkeye hopes to find such a prostitute in Seoul during the Swampmen’s rest and ‘therapy.’
They go to the 325th Evac, meet a psychiatrist named Maj. Haskell, and do their crazy routine with him. They act as though Hawkeye is the worst case. When Haskell meets Hawkeye, the latter makes a number of incoherent remarks to seem crazy.
The Swampmen also find a place where they can get at the “epileptic whore”–Mrs. Lee’s, whose brothel’s girls are “velly clean.” They visit the place, but don’t end up trying the prostitute with “hysterical convulsion[s].”
XII: Chapter Twelve
Hawkeye gets the idea to have the 4077th set up a football team. He considers certain men in the unit, including one named Vollmer, to be a centre, then Jeeter as a second string halfback, among others, all of whom have had football playing experience, according to Hawkeye. Their new team can play against that of the 325th Evac, a team coached by General Hammond.
Since Hammond’s team is really good, Hawkeye knows someone who can be a ringer to ensure that the 4077th can beat the 325th Evac: Captain Oliver Wendell Jones–“Spearchucker,” (Williams; Timothy Brown in the TV series) an excellent football player who’s become a neurosurgeon. When Duke hears the man’s name, he (correctly) assumes that Jones is black, flaring up Duke’s racial prejudice.
Hawkeye gives Duke a slight chiding for calling Jones a “nigra,” and when Duke meets Jones and taunts him a bit, Jones puts him properly in his place. This is the first time in Hooker’s novel that someone is called out for using racial slurs or otherwise demonstrating racial bigotry. Since the novel was published in 1968, it is safe to assume that, because of the Civil Rights movement, conservative Hooker knew he couldn’t get away with racism against blacks the way he could racism against Asians at the time. Still, calling Jones “Spearchucker,” a nickname he accepts because he “used to throw the javelin,” is plenty racist as it is.
The Swampmen go to Blake to make a twin request that is really one: they need a neurosurgeon, Jones specifically, and they need him also for the 4077th’s new football team. Blake remembers that Hammond coaches the 325th Evac team, and that Hammond’s sense of how to coach a football team is years out of date; Blake also knows that with Jones playing for the 4077th, they can beat Hammond’s team and make a lot of money. After all, people bet on these football games, and so a profit can be made on them.
When Blake agrees to set up the new 4077th football team, insisting that he be their coach, Hawkeye is pleased and tells the other Swampmen, “Henry believes in free enterprise, too.” Note here the combination of capitalism with the liberal concession of having a black man on the football team. Of course, the far more progressive stance of the TV series includes far greater respect for blacks…the dealing with “Spearchucker” early on notwithstanding.
The character had been written out of the TV series by the end of season one because it had been understood that there were no black surgeons in MASH units during the Korean War, and so the sitcom’s creator was concerned, apparently, with maintaining historical accuracy (about something most people probably wouldn’t have known, anyway; and actually, there had been several black surgeons at the time). Hmm: a TV series–one that ran for just over a decade about a war that had lasted for only a little over three years, that was meant as an allegory about the Vietnam War, and which had men in the early 1950s with shaggy 1970s hair instead of short, army haircuts–fired a black actor because of concern about historical accuracy? Speaking of racism…
Then again, continuing to call a black man “Spearchucker” over and over again would have been problematic in itself for a TV show that was to be more politically progressive, anyway. In all of this, we can see how the contrast between the show, the film, and the novel is not a conservative/liberal dichotomy, but rather a continuum between the two supposedly opposing political stances.
XIII: Chapter Thirteen
When the players of the new 4077th football team are practicing, they’re awful, but not hopeless. When the game happens, it turns out that Hammond has a few pro footballers of his own for his team, so the 4077th will have to find ways around such obstacles…including cheating. One of the pros, for example, is surreptitiously given a sedative during a pileup in order to incapacitate him.
One way to think about this football game is to allegorize it as a war, except that instead of it being a war between the capitalist West and the ‘dirty commie’ North Koreans and Chinese, it’s a war between the scruffy anti-authoritarians and the military authority, as personified by Hammond’s team. Such an interpretation seems fitting, since throughout the novel and the film, we get very little of the actual Korean War, apart from all the wounded needing surgery.
This war-allegory ties in with what I’ve been saying on and off throughout this analysis: there’s very little concern with the actual war and the damage that was done to the Koreans at the hands of US imperialism. All the MASH staff care about is themselves. They deal with the horrors of war not by demanding a stop to it or by making fun of anti-communist hysteria (as happens from time to time in the TV series), but instead by indulging in pleasure: boozing, sex, golf, and now, football. They oppose the military not because of its imperialism, but because it gets in the way of their fun.
The football players are profiteering from bets on the game, just as there are profiteers in war. The team opposing that of the 4077th are called, significantly, “the enemy” in the novel. The game is a war, a comically self-absorbed one between Americans and Americans, with the Koreans so marginalized this time that they’re not even present.
One of the major reasons for divergences from the film and the novel (and even Lardner’s script, for that matter) is Altman’s encouragement of his actors to improvise, to allow more creative freedom for them and to have more spontaneous interactions between them, adding more realism. One result of this indulgence in MASH is, during the football game, Schuck as Painless saying, “Alright, bud, your fucking head is coming right off,” making this the first time in a mainstream Hollywood movie that that word was ever said…and allowed.
Another example of the 4077th team cheating is when Radar uses his ESP to listen in on the upcoming plays Hammond’s team is planning. They also use a trick involving Vollmer hiding the football and walking it over to the enemy’s side while everyone else is kept busy and distracted. As a result, the 4077th wins the game 28-24, and they make a huge profit.
This blatant disregard for the rules, as well as the contempt shown for authority, can be seen to represent the real political stance, if there even is one, of the Swampmen–they’re anarchists. Yet their penchant for making profits makes them a most dubious kind of anarchist…’anarcho’-capitalists! I told you this novel/film was far from left-wing or progressive.
XIV: Chapters Fourteen and Fifteen, and Conclusion
The days of the deployment of Hawkeye and Duke in South Korea are numbered, so between now and when they get sent home, Blake is having them teach two new doctors how to do “meatball surgery,” which is a set of surgical short-cuts, since saving the lives of the wounded is the priority, and not daintiness, which can be left to the doctors in, say, Tokyo.
In the final chapter, Hawkeye and Duke finally leave the 4077th and go back to the States. They do a lot of drinking on the way, and they engage in a lot of their usual naughtiness, including at one point shirking certain medical duties by pretending to be chaplains. Finally at home, they rejoin their wives and kids in Maine and Georgia.
In the TV series, though, of course, Hawkeye (as well as Frank Burns) have not gone home, and Hawkeye (played by the ever-so-charismatic Alan Alda) is a bachelor. The show truly was an allegory of the Vietnam War, the last years of which overlapped with the film and the first few seasons of the series. As a result, the TV show, with its eleven seasons, ended up turning a three-year-war into an eleven-year quagmire, if you will, in ironic imitation, it seems, of Nam.
The more progressive liberal stance of the TV show, as I said above, should be seen as on a continuum with the more conservative vision of Hooker and Altman, since the one progressive stance of consequence–that the US army should never have been in Korea in the first place–is never even considered, not in the novel, the film, or the TV show.
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