Well, first one that really counts. Probably why I am proud of myself and posting it. The novelty will wear off soon, and then you won’t be subjected to reading. So don’t read it if you don’t want to.
Repression is a part of Utopia. “Utopia,” from the word “u” (or ou), meaning “no,” and “topia,” meaning “place.” A “no place” that holds our dreams and ideas of a perfect and harmonious world. But a perfect world means there is nothing imperfect. One thing out of place or in disharmony, and utopia has turned into dystopia. Either people are somehow transformed to not be able to be imperfect, or they continue in imperfection, and the disharmony/imperfection is somehow repressed. That repression can come from outer or inner sources.
The word “repression” does not seem to have a place in the lovely image we conjure of utopia. It is looked down upon as distasteful, or even evil. In Jameson’s article The Politics of Utopia, utopia for liberals is code for socialism, while for conservatives it is synonymous with totalitarianism. Both of these ideas refer to repression, whether to repression of the wealthy, or repression of the general populous.
Jameson suggests two basic ideas of Utopia. One focusing on daily life, and the other (as seen in More and Plato) in removing the “root of all evil.” One way of removing evil is done by repressing private property. If everything is shared, repressing the capitalistic idea, utopia will be closer in sight—or at least farther away from greed.
Jameson points out that this form of utopia is really just wish-fulfillment. But in every wish that you wish for, doesn’t that exclude other wishes? Making a choice FOR something is making a choice AGAINST everything else. Even in the simple idea of marriage (in general society), it is choosing one person, and then repressing desires (or at least actions) toward all others.
The idea that utopia involves repression is closely linked with Jameson’s quote of Marin’s idea of the negative—that “Utopia is somehow negative; its function lies not in helping us to imagine a better future but rather in demonstrating our utter incapacity to imagine such a future…to reveal the ideological closure of the system in which we are somehow trapped and confined.”
Identifying repression is looking at utopia negatively, and realizing that maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps repression can be a tool used for betterment. Perhaps we have created a negative context for something that can be beneficial. Each person’s utopia looks different. If my utopia involves working because it brings me pleasure, and for John Doe it does not involve work because work is enslavement, a collective utopia would, in some form, involve repression to some extent, since our ideas are incompatible.
Jameson proposes “neither a choice between these extremes nor some ‘synthesis’ of them; but rather a stubbornly negative relationship to both…by way of negation, to grasp the moment of truth of each term.” This is related to negative dialectics by Adorno, which is complicated (at least for me), but is basically that what does not fit is carefully evaluated and involved in the discussion, while not synthesized.
Negative dialectics is very utopian, feeling distant from actuality. In utopian thought, two worlds are often created. The first being the utopian state, where there is no need for repression because not only do they have all that they need, but they recognize that they have all they need. They are desire-less.
The second world is the best possible state working with what we have toward a utopia. This requires repression because even if everyone has what they need, they might not think that they do. Repression in this state may come from outer sources: “Yes, you do have all you need, so shut up.” Or inner, personal repression: “I know I have all I need, but I don’t feel like I do, but I will just repress those feelings.” Or “I didn’t get what I needed, but I will shut up and comply because I don’t want to…”
Jameson introduces the idea of the terror of obliteration; that in order to make the jump from present reality to utopia, you have to let go of all of the past. Like the “science-fictional figure…is warned that salvation will be possible only at the price of allowing the entire personality…to be wiped away without a trace.” The past is repressed, forgotten, let go of—for the idea of the future.
The last idea that Jameson introduces is that the fear of utopia is linked with the loss of desire: once in a perfect world, you won’t need anything. If there is no more desire, since all our needs are met, there is no need for repression. This then, seems to ask another question: if I have no desires, am I still human? If I am changed into someone that cannot be imperfect (so as to mess up utopia), repression is not needed, but then neither is utopia.
Marcuse, in his article The End of Utopia, discusses the current repression in society, and how “individuals reproduce repressive society in their needs.” Society naturally evolves their needs based on what they are used to, and they carry these needs into the next society, taking the repression with them. A break is needed with utopia, but would that lead to the end of repression?
In class we discussed how it is important to change the outside as well as the inside—and at the same time—to create utopia. “Unless you change everything, everything doesn’t change t all.” Outside, the needs are supplied, and inside is changed to it is REALIZED that all the needs are supplied.
If we drew everyone’s needs on the board, each represented by a circle, would the circles overlap to find common needs, so as to make meeting these needs possible, or is it necessary to repress the needs of some to meet the needs of others? Utopia is not utilitarianism, “the greatest good for the greatest number,” it is “the greatest good for all.”
In historical versions of utopia, such as Lycurgus’s Sparta, repression was everywhere. Money was repressed, replaced with iron; the arts were repressed, to bring forth more creative “useful” power; eating alone was repressed, for it was all in common; singleness was repressed, but so was monogamy. Every part of daily life was detailed, with a proper way to do it, and repression of anything else.
Plato’s Republic had many of the same ideas, repressing the whole idea of “mine” and “not mine.” There were very specific virtues that rulers needed, and if you did not have those, you did not rule. Vices were repressed (except if useful for the greater good), and proper breeding was important, so if you were not the best, your reproduction skills would be repressed.
“Until philosophers are kings…and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils.” Plato’s “compelled to stand aside,” a very basic part toward utopia, is repression, pure and simple.
In Politics, it is pointed out that “democratic states have instituted ostracism; equality is above all things their aim, and therefore they ostracized and banished from the city for a time those who seemed to predominate too much.” If anyone was “exceptional,” they were removed, or repressed. There are two choices when faced with someone who is “above” the rest: expel them or make them king.
Aristotle states that a large middle class is desirable because anyone who is exceptional—exceptionally rich or poor, intelligent or dumb—“finds it difficult to follow rational principle. Of these two the one sort grow into violent and great criminals, the others into rogues and petty rascals.” Phocylides said “Many things are best in the mean; I desire to be of a middle condition in my city.”
Looking at these historical views of utopia, there is strong use of repression in every aspect. And their resulting utopia, doesn’t look very utopian anymore: it looks desire-less and middle blah. I don’t know of any child who says “I want to grow up to be middle class and average!”
My favorite suggestion was from Marcuse who says that to break with present realities and move toward utopia requires “the simple refusal to take part in the blessings of the “affluent society.” (As seen in some of the beatnik and hippie movements). Refusing—or repressing—the affluence that could easily be theirs led to positive change. Looking at great men and women who made a difference in history, there is a commonality among them: they turned down, or repressed their desires for many other things. They were focused, driven, and would not be distracted by other options to complete their goals.
Perhaps repression has a place in positive thinking. Perhaps a negation of dialectics is not ending in negativity, but in two negatives creating a positive. Perhaps repression has a place in utopia after all.
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