Featured in The Burning Block Issue 4.
Representative government is rife with characters who are stationed for little other purpose than for the sake of flattering people's feelings. The representative leader or potential leader only represents desire. Granted, the representative leader may create the desire itself, but regardless as to whether or not its role in the game is revealed, it is a desire that is sought. The origin of the desire and the desire itself are always creating one another by fertilizing their own respective wastes.
Warfare and election cycles have the same psychological backgrounds. In the case of elections, however, one man or woman risks being the figurative genocide of an idea. If they win, their idea prevails, thus granting them the opportunity to wage actual war.
A supporter may feel indignation, frustration and violence at the ill-mention of his favored candidate's name. He is committed to someone he doesn't know, and not even by what he does, but by what he says his intentions are. In what world does a man, rather than claim the fruits and origination of a good idea as his, offer it up to the people as one potentiality among many? To what do we owe this strange prejudice? This pretension to what is called ‘order?' A man's authority can no more be voted in than a vulgar man can be voted charming. What sustains the authority of the distant figure, rendered only through the radio and the screen to most of the people he governs, is consequence objectified. He will never meet a single one of the people who are penalized and imprisoned in his state. The theatricality of the political domain extends far beyond the mere ceremonial, which is so wanting of even vulgar ornamentation yet inordinately pretentious that one would accept as a viable substitute the tenor of just about any grammar school play. One hears only law in their words, but no fire, no soul. If one hears not of laws, then one hears of potential laws. One hears of laws which might be lost and laws which need to be reinterpreted if not revived in full. What good deeds did we do to have a man we never have and never will meet want, not only to represent us, but to serve us? If we had achieved this height, how is it possible that every single person in the entire country is so deserving of such an unasked-for free gift?
Not only is it not a gift: it's not even a forced business transaction. It's forced entertainment. The greatest actors are the ones who most desired to be represented and who most succeeded-that, or they're the one's who were most afraid of being unrepresented. The more one entangles oneself, the more one is represented; the more one is owned. The whole political sphere of the entire world today is a series of small and minor dramas seeking better ways to appropriate more diligent, more invested actors. It is as much about how these actors are invested emotionally as it is about how they are invested financially. The unentangled are either inactive or they're criminals (though the inactive are among criminals). Government means that the scale by which the active and the inactive trade dilations is measured according to a pattern, somewhere within whose wide reach the illusion of an activity-equilibrium will be established as distinctions between active centers are dissolved in the membranous atrophy of greater intensities. People don't get the government they deserve, but there is always a consequence for bad timing. A man who is pushed gently, a fraction of an inch each year, will concede more to the slight and unexpected force of such a movement than will a man who gets pushed back a foot every few paces. Too much force at once gives the game away too quickly. But with just enough force, however, you can have people believing that they want to move the direction they're being pushed.
Without the politician, without his representation, they ask who will build roads and bridges. Who will protect the lands we care about so much? The answer as it always has been: whoever wants to. People who work for road-building, government jobs are not forced at gunpoint to do so. However, one will be kidnapped by a policeman at gunpoint and detained if one refuses to pay those men for their business. The only way to even come near defecting from this model of forced-business is to live with someone else who is being forced into business, or to go homeless and wander the streets, at which point one is always wandering into another's dominion; always into the arms of new masters.
What kind of improvement are our politicians to kings? Divinity, even most mysterious in definition and nature, is a far easier ground to stand on when paired against the pretenses to never-ending interdependency fashioned by the state. On what does it stand? Is ‘the good of the people' so difficult and lofty a task that it cannot even be discussed with the people who are receiving its supposed benefits?