Issue 245 of SOCIALIST REVIEW Published October 2000 Copyright © Socialist Review
Julie Waterson says (September SR) that '"untreated" offenders...with a low intellect are most likely to reoffend'. However, the appalling fact is that they are actually excluded from treatment programmes in prisons because of their learning difficulties. Similarly, offenders in residential treatment programmes (ie solely with other sex offenders) sometimes abuse their peers. This is further evidence of the cycle of abuse--that the most serious perpetrators remain some of the most vulnerable to further abuse. What happens in these circumstances is that the 'perpetrator' is thrown out into a less supervised environment, where they receive little or no support to address (and redress) their offending behaviour.
Last month a male religious education teacher at a private school--was convicted of unlawful sex with a student. He received a 12 month prison sentence suspended for six months. I don't know if that relationship was 'appropriate' or 'abusive', but I bet that had it been a male student, public hysteria would again have been whipped up by the tabloid media. As it was, the parents stood apparently alone in their bewilderment and sense of injustice.
The alienation we experience under capitalism distorts all our social interactions, and the structures of society reinforce this. Capitalism needs the family to produce future generations of healthy(ish) cheap labour, so it needs to treat different 'offences' and 'offenders' in ways that maintain these structures. It reduces the family to an economic unit, and makes it both protective and oppressive, both a haven from the alienating world and a prison. And the poorer a family is, the less 'escapes' (freedom) it can buy, the more oppressive and like a prison it is. As socialists we are clear--capitalism alienates us all. It distorts all our natural relations. That is a fundamental tragedy and one that makes victims of us all.
Danielle Rosier
Hither Green
Carmel Brown admits that the Harry Potter stories have some merit (September SR) but lays their success entirely down to their publicity and marketing. She is missing the point that children have to want to pick up the book, sit quietly and concentrate on a lengthy text--which is not an easy task for younger readers. This is not a well known activity for most of our kids and obviously not as exciting as the kudos gained from collecting and swapping Pokémon cards, or the attraction of the latest Gameboy or simply watching television.
The government-imposed literacy hour completely stifles the idea of reading for pure pleasure. My son's school offers 20 year old dog-eared titles, with pages missing for 'free choice' reading because reading for pleasure is being phased out. This regime has been in place for several years, so the popularity of the Harry Potter novels is a refreshing challenge to this ideology.
Michael Rosen is right--books are commodities. To get any work published a profitable return has to be guaranteed. Consequently we are deprived of thousands of works that never see the light of day. The publishers of the Harry Potter stories have firmly located their market and Blue Peter was part of this process. It does not account for the whole story: Blue Peter remorselessly and nauseously endorsed the Dome without the same success.
Michael Rosen points to the word of mouth of children for the success of the first novel. I agree--pure hype cannot account for the book's popularity. Children had to work at unlocking the stories by reading the books--as they did so more children wanted to be in on it. Their only way in is to read the books or listen to the tapes.
Now the films, computer games and all the rest will completely submerge the original stories and the publishers will make even more profit. Carmel is right when she says the craze is parent endorsed.
Parents who hoped reading was a more worthwhile craze than most will be penalised by the pressure of having to cough up for all the associated hype.
Penny Hicks
Coventry
I'm glad I didn't read Julian Goss's review of Butterfly's Tongue (September SR) before going to see it. Otherwise I might have been put off seeing what is a very enjoyable film.
Julian denounces it for allegedly giving the impression that the struggle in Spain in 1936 was 'for a secular Blairist republic'. In fact the film portrays artisans influenced by Republican and anarchist ideas and a school teacher who would be sacked on the spot by David Blunkett for his progressive teaching methods (and his possession of books by the anarchist Kropotkin). It also, realistically, shows the local rich uniting with the local priest in hostility to everything these Republicans stand for.
The review claims that Galicia was chosen as the location of the film because as 'Franco's birthplace' it lacked 'class struggle' and all workers had emigrated. Anyone who's been to Galicia knows that it contains two major ports, complete with big working class areas. And, far from lacking class struggle, the POUM leader Maurin fell into fascist hands at the beginning of the civil war because he was attending a workers' conference in the province when war broke out. The end of the film shows the artisans taking up arms to oppose the fascists, and the fascists taking off Julian's 'Blairites' to be shot.
The film is not a masterpiece and is not in the same league as Land and Freedom. But it was a welcome change from most recent fashionable Spanish films that are obsessed with sex and personal relationships.
Talet Ahmed
Hackney
The article on advertising (September SR) contained a number of inaccuracies.
Firstly, costs of advertising cannot be passed on in higher prices, as this would only lead to inflation/devaluation of the currency, and is anyway limited by the market price. The cost must come out of the surplus value created by labour (although advertising could lead to increased demand and hence a higher price).
Secondly, Marx did call transport productive labour. After all, what's the point of buying something if you don't have access to it?
Thirdly, workers do not need to consume all they produce for capitalists to sell all their produce. We all know that the bourgeoisie gets far more than its fair share.
Fourthly, alienation refers to workers' lack of control, ie not owning the means of production, not to the fact that we do not understand or take part in all productive processes.
Finally, alcohol is described as 'completely unnecessary and even harmful'. In moderation alcohol is beneficial. Furthermore, ever since the evolution of consciousness, Homo sapiens have sought to 'get out of it', whether the Laps on fly agaric or those in warmer climes on cannabis. And after reading such flawed Marxism in an otherwise interesting article, I need a little something too.
Phil Hall
Leyton
It is interesting to compare Ed Hall's review of the Intelligence exhibition at Tate Britain with Simon Pooley's review of Julian Stallabrass's High Art Lite (both in September SR).
While I don't share Ed's particular responses, his review has the merit of offering an evaluation of the exhibition on the basis of actually engaging with the artwork it contains. In contrast, Simon's review offers a broad condemnation of 'Young British Art' without any discussion of, or attempt to relate to specific works.
Instead Simon gives us critique by association. He tells us that 'the way in which high art lite has been co-opted by New Labour and multinational corporations further testifies to its complicity with the establishment'. But virtually all great art from Giotto to Giacometti or Goya to Gormley has been co-opted in this way. (Does Simon imagine that Picasso, Braque or Cézanne or Van Gogh has escaped such co-option?)
Second, Simon offers sweeping generalisations as if all or most of the YBAs were the same. For example we are told that 'much of high art lite self consciously avoids any social or moral responsibility'. Now maybe that applies to Marcus Harvey and the Chapman Brothers but it hardly fits Rachel Whiteread or Jenny Saville. We are told that in general these artists are 'apathetic and cynical' which might describe Gavin Turk but not Mona Hartoum, Tracey Emin or Chris Ofili.
A glance at art movements of the past shows that they are far from homogeneous. The impressionists were not all the same and you can't dismiss Pissarro on the basis of the sickly sweet sexism of Renoir any more than Mir- and Ernst can be condemned for the superficial commercialism of Dali. But the Impressionists and the Surrealists were like centralised Bolshevik parties compared to the decentred cacophony of the contemporary art scene. Of course some generalisation is possible and, ultimately, necessary but it has to be rooted in engagement with actual, specific works of art.
The weakness of Simon's casual broad brush approach is highlighted by the way his opening gambit about High Art Lite's blank spaces comes unstuck. 'The blank spaces derive from the refusal of permission to reproduce by the dealer who represents Richard Billingham, Steve McQueen and Mark Wallinger.' Simon claims this 'suggests that finally a critical text has emerged to counter the growing body of gushing monologues'. Unfortunately the same Steve McQueen whose images are blanked is claimed by Simon as one of the few 'channels of resistance', and Mark Wallinger, whose work has focused on homelessness, class and a critique of national identity, is certainly one of the most left wing and politically conscious of the current artists (though this in itself does not make his work particularly good art).
John Molyneux
Portsmouth