LILEKS (James) Screedblog

Monday, February 06 2006

The French Revolution has a good reputation. When I was taught the particulars in high school, the narrative was rather streamlined – America had its revolt, France had its turn of the wheel, and in both cases the People came to power. The King was a tyrant – weren’t they all – and while the guillotining got out of hand a bit, well, you can’t make an omelette without wringing the chicken’s neck, cutting it off, carving it open, looking for eggs, and, finding none, nationalizing the poultry industry and jailing the farmers who kept a few eggs for themselves.

Later I learned that the French revolution was not exactly what I had been taught – in fact, it was a blueprint for the sort of daft utopian madness that characterized the totalitarian regimes of the 20th century, right down to the purges, secret police, imposition of ideological purity, and desire to reform and remake society along lines divorced from cultural traditions. For that matter, it wasn’t entirely a matter of the Poor Oppressed Peasants rising up against the let-‘em-cake-factions; a good deal of the opposition to the monarchy came from the upper middle class, which wanted larger portions of the cake for themselves. Faced with an ossified system that thwarted reform on one hand and grudgingly agreed to it on the other, the Thinking Class decided they were the vanguard of Electrified Liberty, and set in motion events they could not have anticipated. The sober voices wanted a new France, modern and progressive and civil and humane, and they made common cause with sharp clever men who wanted the same, but more. They wanted this:

The King's head, dripping blood not holy and inerrant but impure. The text below the illustration quotes Robespierre about how the execution “imprinted a grand character on the National Convention and makes it worthy of the confidence of the French.” It also encouraged people to have confidence in the National Convention, of course. Only a traitor would fail to see the virtues inherent in that picture. Well. Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose. From last weekend’s “Bush Step Down” rally, this image.

I'm sure it’s a direct intentional reference to the sort of dead-king porn I posted above. According to the website for the demo organizers, the “endorsers” of the rally include Ed Asner, Susan Sarandon, John Sayles, Martin Sheen, Al Sharpton, Gloria Steinham, Studs Terkel, Jane Fonda, Lawrence Ferlinghetti (still alive!) Gore Vidal (that famous man of the people), Wavy Gravy (he had a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream named after him, so he must be heeded. Attention must be paid!) Jessica Lange, Michael Lerner, Mark Crispin Miller, Ed Begley Jr., Harry Belafonte, Gabriel Byrne. Ward Churchill, and someone described as the “executive director” of the “Hate Free Zone Washington.” Also Casey Kasem, the voice of “Shaggy” on Scooby Doo. I do not think that any of these people want anyone decapitated. I also do not think that any of these people would have told the woman to put the sign away. I do think that I will recall that sign when I hear their names again.

The speakers of the event included Carl Dix, from the Revolutionary Communist Party, one of those tiresome Maoist organizations whose website is full of dire warnings about Christian Fascism. It will be instructive to see if any of the famous names listed above withdraw their support when they realize that Real Live Communists are on their side; one suspects they will brush away such bothersome details and insist we concentrate on the real problems at hand, like overturning the results of an election by direct action. No one will ever put that decapitation poster in front of Ed Asner, read him the remarks of Mr. Dix, ask him how he feels having these guys on his side, and how it might reflect on the cause he supports, whether he lends his heft to forces darker than the sunny cause he touts. He hasn’t given it a moment’s thought, and it’s almost cruel to expect he would. He is a busy man, after all.

But so was Robespierre. Still, he found time to fit his head beneath the blade when his time came.

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