Let me open with a somewhat personal divulgence. When I make love, the experience is conditioned by the erotic scenes of the many Spanish art-house films I've seen over the years.
It's quite hard to pin down the exact nature of this conditioning. Sometimes, images from the scenes are brought into conscious thought, and I unwittingly reenact the sensual movements that I've watched so many times before. On other occasions, I'll sing the background music in my head, and inadvertently give myself a consistent rhythm. But most commonly, I'm absorbed by the act itself - the effect of countless hours of watching bare, sweaty flesh sliding on itself (in between intricate, melodramatic plot-lines) is purely subconscious. So the conditioning is somewhat fluid - it depends, it changes.
One of the most common pop arguments against watching porn is that it causes the male viewers to copy the self-indulgent and at times sadistic practices of the male stars when they engage in sexual relations of their own. The problem with this argument is its use of the word "copy" (and synonyms). It tends to create an image of a man in the bedroom with a girl, on the cusp of the act, thinking "ok, so, how do most pornos begin?" and then later on trying to consciously reenact the particular techniques that he's seen on his laptop.
It opens a gaping hole in the argument, which can be easily widened: "I don't think of porn while I'm having sex".
That's why the relatively simple and psychologically obvious idea that watching porn subconsciously conditions its viewer's sexual behaviour is a lot more important for understanding its potentially negative effects.
Sometimes, though, people will violently materialise conscious fictions.
So it was with Anwar Congo and his associates, in Indonesia, in 1966. As described by Zizek in Living in the End Times (Verso: 2011), today, Anwar's group are respected politicians, but in that year, they killed 2.5 million alleged communist sympathisers. On a talk show in 2007, this genocide-perpetrator remarked that the "killings were inspired by gangster movies" (pg 322). A documentary was made about these peculiar characters a couple of years later, and the film's publicity material explained it thus:
"...when we realised what kind of movie Anwar and his friends wanted to make about the genocide, the reenactments became more elaborate. And so we offered Anwar and his friends the opportunity to dramatize the killings using film genres of their choice (western, gangster, musical). That is, we gave them the chance to script, direct and star in the scenes they had in mind when they were killing people (quoted in ibid, 322-3)."This is an extreme example of a phenomena that is endemic to the human condition. Because while Anwar and his buddies needed to "experience their reality itself as a fiction (ibid, 323)" to distance themselves from the sheer brutality and horror of their actions, we in the post-political developed countries do so in order to tolerate the banality and meaninglessness of our own.
But there is a small gap in the analogy. While many people will make direct associations between the content of movies, videoclips, etc... and their own actions in the course of their daily work/lives, we most commonly experience our realities through the fictive aspects of other real actions.
How often are metaphors from racing and fighting evoked in the course of our daily lives? A US presidential candidate delivers a knockout punch in a decisive debate, while we just get over the line with meeting our Key Performance Indicators at work, while two branches of a store go head to head to deliver the best results.
An interesting example was given by Dan Bleakman, a friend of mine and founding father of Ultra168, when he wrote about the birth of his daughters in 2011. The title of the post itself, referring to caring for his twins (and dare I say, life in general), lends itself nicely to my point: The ultra-marathon that never ends.
"Indeed, I’ve barely taken a step running since last Monday 12th December when these two little things were born, but the constant 3-4 hour cycle of looking after the babies reminded me massively of my recent run at GNW. When broken down into its rawest form, an ultra is about getting from CP to CP, and managing that transition as smoothly as possible."Life is like one big race", as I've read many times before.
Looking after these tiny little things is kind of a similar process. We wake them up, change them, feed them, wrap them and then go back to sleep. That’s the transition phase. Then we have 2 hours or so when we’re moving between CPs before getting ready for the next one. And then repeat the process 8 times daily. Sometimes however that process doesn’t go to plan, so we have to adapt, just like you would in a race. Indeed, maybe as part of antenatal classes they should make you go out and run a miler!"
Another example is given by a piece written by legendary ultra-marathoner Ann Trason: Growing Up at Western States. In it, she elaborately compares the experience of running a 100 mile race to living through 100 years from birth to death:
"This might seem really silly, but I look at Western States as life in a day. The start is like being born...The first 16 miles I run like a child, becoming a teenager...I have this adolescent confidence that I can do anything. I am totally hyper until about mile 20, where, approaching adulthood, I start to worry about what I'm going to do with my life. Then I hit the canyons and its like having a midlife crisis...Then I'm 50 years old, cruising along, looking forward to retirement, which is eventually marked by a great downhill section at mile 60 (in Running Through the Wall, ed. Neil Jamison, 2003, pg 201-2)."And so on.
But there is an obvious difference between Dan's experience and Ann's. For the latter, we have to rearrange the abovementioned the popular adage - in her case "A race is like one big life".
The similarities between the two are more important: both Dan and Ann (and everyone else in the world) experience reality (be it caring for twins, running 100 miles, working, etc...) through the fictions constructed around other real actions.
Dan talks about caring for his daughters in relation to running ultras being about "getting from checkpoint to checkpoint". While this is true in the sense that we need to break-down the distance in order to mentally deal with it, this idea conceals the fact that on a concrete, fundamental level, running an ultramarathon is just a series of meaningless, continuous steps or even just a set of repeated muscular contractions. We play mind tricks, we impose fictive characteristics on this basic reality in to render it livable - indeed, Ann transcribes every-day reality into a meta-narrative about the stages of life. Again, these stages themselves are somewhat fictive, constructed - many adolescents lack confidence and are not hyper, many people don't have midlife crises, some don't get to retire until later than 65 and, obviously, most people don't live to the age of 100! Even if someone's life does correspond to Ann's idea in its general structure, there are thousands of individual days, thousands of individual moments that are not, in themselves, constitutive of this grand narrative.
To repeat myself one more time, when we are doing something, the way we understand this "doing" is conditioned by our experiences of doing something else. But, as I hope the above examples have shown, we are never thinking of the brutal reality of that something else, rather we are conceptualising its reduced, idealised qualities.
Hopefully, this has rendered Zizek's quote somewhat comprehensible and taken it a few steps further: “As soon as we renounce fiction and illusion, we lose reality itself; the moment we subtract fictions from reality, reality itself loses its discursive-logical consistency.”
There seems to be a somewhat Hegelian dialectical movement going on here - from abstract (the reality itself) to negative (the fiction) to concrete (the reality experienced as fictive reality) that deserves a greater expansion. Fodder for a future post, perhaps.