Discord, Discourse and Meaningless Interactions
I go hurtling forward, and for a second there it must seem like I’m going to hit him, because in a flash he’s got both of his hands wrapped around my neck. Panic floods my vision; we make eye contact. His grip loosens and he slowly pulls his hands back. We communicate as much with our eyes and body language as we can, considering we’re in a dark room packed with people. “Sorry,” he yells, “I thought you were about to punch me.”
“No. I was only going to shove you.”
“Yeah, okay.”
We start dancing again, timidly at first. We’re back to moshing within a handful of moments.
I don’t think there’s a universally-established code of conduct for moshes. I certainly haven’t heard of one. Some people go in looking for a friendly, physical release; others go in looking for a fight. Some people will be really upset (in the “dude, wtf, that’s not cool” way) if you throw a punch at them. What’s even more disparate than the assumed conduct of a mosh is the assumed point. I’ve definitely collided with people who I could tell were going into it with something very different in mind. At a Mindless Self Indulgence concert two years ago, the guy next to me whispered to his friend, “next song, I’m totally going to hurt someone.” At the start of the next song, he ran, jumped into the air, and planted both of his feet squarely in the small of someone’s back. She hit the ground hard. I still have no idea what the hell was going through his head.
Moshing is a discourse that takes place with no meaning. It could be argued that there is some hidden language to moshing, some collective consciousness that we are exploring. I refute these arguments. What goes on when someone moshes? I’d argue that the only universal constant is release. Release does not equate meaning. There is no significance to the interactions that take place during moshing.
Evidence to support this claim, that these interactions take place without meaing:
1.) “I thought you were about to punch me.” “No. I was only going to shove you.” “Yeah, okay.”
2.) The same evening, there was a guy who I was moshing with. He’d hit me really hard, attempting to knock me off my feet, and then extend an arm to help me stabilize so I wouldn’t fall and get trampled. He was straight-up attempting to knock me over, but then was counter-balancing that by keeping me upright. Knocking me over solely for the sake of knocking me over.
I’d like to suggest that release can be a goal, and achieving meaning can be a goal, and that expressing meaning can be a goal. And I’d like to suggest that even when goals work in tandem, the more goals that you have, the less energy you are able to devote to each. In order to achieve the strongest release, you need to isolate and remove meaning (at least as a goal, preferably also as an in-the-moment side-effect).
Where do we see this happening? Moshing, as I’ve argued. As far as musical genres, breakcore and extreme noise. In movies, some avant-garde surrealist work. I’d argue Eraserhead. Certain drugs. What does these things have in common?
Discord.
Let’s use games as a lens for analyzing discord and the reduction of meaning. Sociologist Roger Caillois identifies, as one kind of play, ilinx. Ilinx is defined as play “…based on the pursuit of vertigo and which consist[s] of an attempt to momentarily destroy the stability of perception and inflict a kind of voluptuous panic upon an otherwise lucid mind. In all cases, it is a question of surrendering to a kind of spasm, seizure, or shock which destroys reality with sovereign brusqueness.”
In addition to prioritizing release (over meaning and other goals), ilinx offers us instability of perception. How is this a useful tool? Instability of perception gives us two things: a moment without our preconceived notions running on autopilot; and, a chance to form new notions about how the world operates.
Moshing disrupts my notions of violence. The people slamming into me, shoving me, pulling me over, these people suddenly become my friends in addition to my assailants. A movie by David Lynch disrupts my notions of character and sequence. Suddenly we cannot use an actor as a marker for consistent character. We cannot use time as an indicator of chronology. We are forced to work to tie together the movie ourselves. When I play a game that favours ilinx, my sense of story and identity are often jumbled.
This forces me to do one of two things: adapt, as rapidly as possible, to an experience that is fundamentally alien to my sensibilities; deduce, as rapidly as possibly, the underlying reality of the situation. One forces me to react without my preconceived notions as a safetly blanket. One forces me to construct new notions, accurate to a new situation. Both of these things are vital in training us for survival, as well as reminding us that the stories we tell ourselves are only stories. They are not the moon; the moon is unreachable.
When you spin around a room really quickly, the result is that you get dizzy, you feel sick, you can’t tell how the room is supposed to level out, and you can’t walk. Why is this an almost universal mode of play for children? Perhaps because at some point, we knew that not all interactions were founded on meaning. And we still knew what the meaningless ones could provide us.
Posted by mcdaldno | 8 comments
Drake
The question is whether adaptation is possible, or learning is possible, in an experience devoid of meaning. How much can be learned by watching static? But of course, the absence of conscious meaning cannot conceal subconscious impulses, and those hidden shapes may yet emerge as patterns in static. Patterns, even those devoid of overt meaning, can be adapted to. The spinning child knows that the disorientation is controlled, of a particular type and duration. The mosher knows that the concert will end, and that there are certain conventions even in random violence.
So the only interesting form of discord has some limitations, boundaries built in, conventions that can be explored. At least, to my mind.
buriedwithoutceremony
In answer to the question of whether adaptation is possible in an experience devoid of meaning…
I think that patterns will always exist in the momentary. The more jarring, the more abrupt, the more alien that these are, the harder it is to respond rationally. Maybe this isn’t because meaning is truly gone, but meaning is alien and changing at a rate that we simply cannot respond to rationally.
Let me use breakcore as an example. Breakcore is a pretty extreme type of electronic music. It’s fast, like drum-n-base, has a lot of glitchy beats. What characterizes breakcore above all else, though, is that the artists will randomly and sporadically switch tracks, layer incongruent beats, and change rhythms. What this means is that you are constantly losing the beat, because it is constantly taken away from you.
The beat changes, and you need to try to adapt. But there’s the possibility that you’ll only have 3 bars (hell, 3 notes) of this new beat before it switches up again. The only way that you can adapt is to commit to the first notion that your body takes to. You need to commit to whatever your body does when the beat changes, even if it’s wrong.
Trying to match your movement accurately to the beat is a recipe for failure. It moves too erratically for the rational mind. This is ilinx dancing – you need to throw yourself, with abandon, at something you cannot master or know. You need to drop the preconceived notions of what dancing should be. You just need to act. That, or the music will leave you in the dust.
Patterns, even those devoid of overt meaning, can be adapted to. The spinning child knows that the disorientation is controlled, of a particular type and duration.
So, yeah. The key to this whole discord/ilinx/vertigo/meaningless thing isn’t that the patterns are gone completely. It’s that they’ve been rendered alien to our rational mind, and we are forced to either bend our mind to them, or temporarily leave it behind.
I think.
Julian Michels
I’d say, rendered alien to our perception of existing patterns. It is very rational to form new pattern perception, and humans do it extremely quickly at the unconscious level (see Dare Baldwin’s research on pattern recognition). Based on what you’re saying, I think that what discordia does is that it offers a reset to current pattern recognition structure activation, allowing one to mix and match existing recognition “software” and even to form new “software” procedurally in that moment. I think this is also what’s accomplished when a person stops thinking about a problem, goes on a walk and examines the discordia of spring flowers or autumn leaves, and then has the solution to the problem spontaneously appear or appear very quickly upon reexamining the problem (the “Aha!” moment, as psychologists call it).
I think this only scratches the surface of what you and I could say to each other on this subject, Joe!
buriedwithoutceremony
Cool, Julian.
I think that what discordia does is that it offers a reset to current pattern recognition structure activation, allowing one to mix and match existing recognition “software” and even to form new “software” procedurally in that moment.
While discordia (cool word!) does give us the chance to match different pattern recognition structures, and even to create new ones, it also gives us the opportunity to do without.
Because in that moment, we have the opportunity to simply do without. Our minds are constantly looking for patterns, and presented with the sublime, we are given a momentary reprive, owing solely to incompetence. For once, we lack the skills to even begin to recognize the pattern at the rate we need to, in the environment we find ourselves in.
So, sometimes discordia/ilinx play gives us the chance to utilize new pattern recognition structures. This is good for survival training, honing of instincts and perspective-shift. But, it also gives us the chance to stop utilizing pattern recognition structures. This is good, too.
I can only begin to explain why I think this is a good outlet: release and reprieve.
Julian Michels
This is interesting. I think that my “reset” and your “sublime” are actually the same thing, but with different emphases. It is a state when one is not interpreting data through a given perceptual structure. It is before, without, and after, meaning.
I was emphasizing the power that this state has in the ability of humans to generate new ideas and new structures. I was emphasizing its power to increase our ability to generate meaning.
I think that you were emphasizing this “sublime” state’s intrinsic value, as a place devoid of meaning. To do without meaning has a value beyond that which we can effectively point at, because to explore it is to try to measure *meaninglessness* using our only real measuring tool, *meaning*. Which is what we’re doing right here, right now.
In my personal spirituality and my life, I emphasize meaning and creativity. At the same time, I honor discord and entropy as my master’s equal counterpart. I feel that these two things are truly the twin gods of the universe… perhaps that creativity contains entropy and that entropy contains creativity. But as someone who normally speaks from science, I must note that these are my spiritual feelings, not my rational ones.
@#
A friend of mine once left a note on my car windshield that said “The ability to create makes us like God, our desire to do so makes us different from everyone else.”
Sorry to tangent there.
Rugrsi
Enjoyable post.
It may help me finish Inland Empire. A movie I’ve found both fascinating and intimidating.
buriedwithoutceremony
Rugrsi,
I haven’t taken on Inland Empire yet, though I plan to at some point. Likely when the school year is over and I’m unemployed, with miles of time on my hands.
The best way to appreciate a David Lynch movie, I’ve found, is to go in looking to be destabilized. Anticipate the moment where you’ll be reeling. Do not cling to the plot as a continuous thing you can depend on. Down that route lies frustration!