Biblioclasm and the Book Bloc

17 December 2010
By

Bib­li­o­clasm: bib­lio– comb. form + Greek - klas­mos breaking

Born in Rome dur­ing the stu­dent protests of Decem­ber 2010, and again in London’s demon­stra­tions of that same month, the Book Bloc would not nor­mally fig­ure in a chro­no­logy of lib­ri­cide. After all, no actual books were des­troyed. But, as we shall see, it’s not all about the books.

A witty and prac­tical piece of protest theatrics, the Book Bloc is essen­tially a line of home-​made DIY shields made to look like over-​sized books with a view both to pro­tect pro­test­ers from the vis­cious­ness of flail­ing police truncheons and to send out a mes­sage by mak­ing a ges­ture sym­bol­ising the need for cul­ture to defend itself in the face of an aggress­ive ideo­logy against which it sees itself in per­il­ous opposition.

The elo­quence with which the Book Bloc images embod­ied the under­ly­ing mes­sage of these protests was, for me, what made them stand out from the routine and gen­eric shots these kind of events invari­ably pro­duce; pho­tos of angry cops, masked faces, and smashed win­dow panes. This is some­thing that sets the images apart, too, from the more scan­dal­ous, headline-​grabbing pho­tos of Charles and Cam­illa besieged in the royal Rolls Royce, and the unfor­tu­nate snaps of Charlie Gilmour swinging from the Ceno­taph. But what, then, is the nature of this elo­quence? Why should these mock-​up books have such an impact? This ques­tion star­ted a train of thought.

Wu Ming, the nom de plume/​guerre for a small col­lect­ive of authors – whose novel, Q, was one of the titles fea­tur­ing in the Roman Book Bloc – put for­ward an ima­gin­at­ive and lucid read­ing of the par­tic­u­lar choices made in select­ing the ‘books’ hold­ing up the front line (partly avail­able in trans­la­tion from the Italian here). The Decameron’s plague rep­res­ents the cur­rent blight of the ‘atom­iz­a­tion of social relationships’, echoed by Asimov’s The Naked Sun, whilst the obsess­ive futil­ity with which the quix­otic people chase after the Great Whale of ‘ber­luscon­ism’ (Moby Dick) is rep­res­en­ted through Cer­vantes and Melville. And so on.

Sim­il­arly Jay Grif­fiths, author of Pip Pip (a book in London’s bloc), indulges in a more nos­tal­gic exegesis of the titles on dis­play, focus­sing mostly on the apt­ness of the protest’s nod to Huxley’s Brave New World and the spectre of 1968.

Grif­fiths begins her art­icle with the obser­va­tion that “It’s a very strange thing to watch a police­man take a truncheon to a book.” This atten­tion to the vis­ceral lan­guage of destruc­tion – surely an onto­lo­gical imper­at­ive of the Book Bloc – is largely seen to be miss­ing from both Wu Ming and Grif­fiths’ accounts. And it seems to me that this lan­guage points to some­thing else; namely, the destruct­ive poet­ics of that other mass social and cul­tural prac­tice called bib­li­o­clasm – defined as the prac­tice of des­troy­ing, often cere­mo­ni­ously, books or other writ­ten mater­ial and media.

In another art­icle, Wu Ming write, “This after­noon, in Rome, stu­dents con­fron­ted the cops while car­ry­ing shields with book titles on them. The mean­ing was: it is cul­ture itself that’s res­ist­ing the cuts; books them­selves are fight­ing the police.” Futher­more, the people behind the Lon­don Bloc have said of books that “we teach with them, we learn with them, we play with them, we cre­ate with them, we make love with them and, some­times, we must fight with them.” The idea that it is the books them­selves fight­ing the police, and that they are effect­ively com­rades in arms, reveals some­thing pro­found about the way we con­cep­tu­al­ise books – as some­how anim­istic entit­ies pos­sess­ing inde­pend­ent powers. This is some­thing David Abram has touched upon, arguing that books (or texts) are ‘speak­ing sub­jects’ tak­ing up the same place in ‘cul­ture’ that was once occu­pied by rivers and trees in soci­et­ies sub­scrib­ing to anim­istic con­cepts of nature.

It is per­haps this same idea that caused Ray Brad­bury to say “I felt it [Hitler’s ‘burn­ing of the books’] as keenly, please for­give me, as his killing a human, for in the long sum of his­tory they are one and the same flesh”. Inter­est­ingly the allu­sion to tran­sub­stan­ti­ation made by Brad­bury cor­res­ponds to the trans­form­a­tion of the book-object’s use-​value in moments of crises. In the Book Bloc, the sym­bolic change can be described as teacher-​to-​warrior, in bib­li­o­clasm this tra­ject­ory goes from perpetrator-​to-​victim; regarded with sus­pi­cion of being a pro­pa­gand­ist of ‘dan­ger­ous’ ideas by a régime or social group, the book is set upon and silenced.

The cuts in edu­ca­tion and fund­ing are more than meas­ures to alle­vi­ate gar­gan­tuan defi­cits. These cuts are also ideo­lo­gical. In these spe­cific cases they are attack­ing the uni­ver­sity insti­tu­tion, sew­ing the seeds to change it from a forum where know­ledge is taught, cre­ated and disseminated, to a mar­ket­place where profit rules above all. These cuts are deeply anti-​culture.

What I saw in the Book Blocs of Rome and Lon­don was indeed a sym­bolic self-​defense of cul­ture. But it was more than that. By march­ing these card­board and styro­foam tomes into the viol­ent tumult of the front line, these pro­test­ers were, in essence, offer­ing up their care­fully selec­ted titles to be des­troyed in a cere­mo­nial act of sac­ri­fice. This has the effect of being a kind of reverse bib­li­o­clasm, a self-​immolation – a lit­er­ary Jauhar of sorts – and sug­gests a con­sidered détourne­ment of the poet­ics of oppress­ive violence.

Tomas White of the bib­li­o­clasm blog, chart­ing the ‘secret his­tory’ of book destruc­tion, or lib­ri­cide, as a para­dox­ical prac­tice com­mon to all lit­er­ate cul­tures through­out the ages.

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9 Responses

  1. Justus Civicas on 17 December 2010 at 10:24 am

    Read-​in, sit-​in, an off­spring of the Book bloc?

    Read-​In Sat­urday « LRB blog
    http://​www​.lrb​.co​.uk
    If you’re in Lon­don and not sure what to do on Sat­urday after­noon, why not grab a book and head down to the read-​in at the Voda­fone shop on Oxford Street? It’s being organ­ised by UK Uncut to protest against both the mobile phone company’s tax avoid­ance and the recently announced cuts in local gov­ern­ment fund­ing:
    The Lib­rary bloc’s mis­sion is to tar­get Voda­fone and high­light the government’s 27% cuts to local gov­ern­ment budgets. Vodafone’s £6bn tax dodge could pay for every single cut to every single coun­cil every­where in the coun­try for the next two years. Lib­rary bloc will meet inside Vodafone’s flag­ship store to stage a read-​in. At exactly 1.04pm, on the librarian’s sig­nal, every­one will sit down, take out a book and begin read­ing. If you want to join Lib­rary Bloc bring fly­ers, ban­ners and a book. And remember…shhhhh!
    The action will be done by 3pm.

    http://​www​.lrb​.co​.uk/​b​l​o​g​/​2​0​1​0​/​1​2​/​1​5​/​t​h​o​m​a​s​-​j​o​n​e​s​/​r​e​a​d​-​i​n​-​s​a​t​u​r​d​ay/

  2. dan mcquillan on 17 December 2010 at 10:30 am

    great piece. it scores import­ant points by emphas­ising the vis­ceral aspect (bat­ons strik­ing books) and the aspect of ‘books them­selves as actors’.

    i dis­agree on the idea of ‘sac­ri­fice. imho what’s going on is per­form­at­ive risk-​taking i.e. “both I and the book put ourselves on the line to con­struct a rad­ical critique”.

    jef­frey juris has writ­ten some good stuff on this draw­ing on his exper­i­ences of g8 protests: see for example ‘Per­form­ing Polit­ics’ and ‘Viol­ence Per­formed and Ima­gined’ http://​www​.jef​freyjuris​.com/​a​r​t​i​c​l​e​s​.​h​tml

  3. Gilbert Leung on 18 December 2010 at 10:23 pm

    Bernard-​Henri Lévy once used a poem by Vic­tor Hugo, appar­ently writ­ten after the burn­ing of the Tuiler­ies lib­rary, as a way to relate to the 2005 burn­ing of the Paris ban­lieues. Lévy recounts:

    The poet is “preach­ing” to one of the arsonists.

    He accuses him, as we do today, of the “unheard of” crime of burn­ing a cul­tural site.

    He shows him that the books he burned were the “light of his soul,” the “torch itself” that ought to guide him along the road to hap­pi­ness and progress.

    This “light” was “yours,” he insists.

    The book was “your lib­er­ator,” your “doc­tor,” your “guide,” your “guardian.”

    And it was all that, all these price­less goods, these talis­mans, these flowers of the soul, which you’ve chosen to “annihilate.”

    But then he has the hon­esty to won­der about the arsonist’s reac­tion. And what do we think he answers?

    I don’t know how to read …”

    It’s inter­est­ing, even a touch para­dox­ical, that bib­li­o­clasm has been prac­tised by both 1) the elites who fear the empower­ment of the ‘masses’ through read­ing books and 2) the down­trod­den who des­pise the fact that only the elites have access to the know­ledge con­tained therein.

    There may be a twist, how­ever, rel­ev­ant for today:

    Per­haps the elites do not really know how to ‘read’ while many of the down­trod­den ‘read’ only too well.

    But does this imply a third class of down­trod­den elites? Does the Book Bloc rep­res­ent a Hugoesque new poet, a sym­bolic ges­ture of guard­i­an­ship that lit­er­ally shields the treas­ures of eman­cip­at­ory knowledge … ?

  4. Tomas White on 20 December 2010 at 12:34 am

    Gil­bert,

    The idea of this third class of the ‘down­trod­den elite’ is an inter­est­ing one, and it brings up a major prob­lem being faced by the movement.

    There are a depress­ingly large num­ber of people who take a dis­par­aging view of the stu­dent move­ment in par­tic­u­lar. Most remarks I hear tend to be wholly reac­tion­ary, focus­ing on the dam­age done to state and com­mer­cial prop­erty as coun­ter­pro­duct­ive to the cause. The resent­ment is deflec­ted away from the elites deny­ing access to higher edu­ca­tion and onto the ‘down­trod­den’ them­selves. And this is, I think, propag­ated partly via the rela­tion­ship they have to prop­erty (I’m think­ing of the inor­din­ate import­ance attached to the viol­ence depic­ted in the media as a warn­ing of what the ‘feral mob’ could do to YOU and YOUR mater­ial goods if the kettle lines were to break — mater­ial goods YOU work so hard every­day to accu­mu­late whilst this bunch of dirty hip­pies sits about all day at YOUR expense).

    In a way it’s a shame that the major­ity of the ‘down­trod­den’ don’t hold a pos­i­tion sim­ilar to that of Hugo’s arson­ist com­munard, for at least then the sanc­tity of prop­erty would dis­ap­pear and the anti­thet­ical cat­egory (2) of your bib­li­o­clast schem­atic would be born. I think the Book Bloc is an attempt at a sub­lim­at­ing ges­ture in the absence of this category.

    The sym­bol of the book-​object is espe­cially apt as it can be used in a vari­ety of mean­ing­ful ways, not least of which as a ges­ture of the destruc­tion of prop­erty. At the same time, the shield­ing aspect of the Book Bloc does achieve that ges­ture of guard­i­an­ship you mention.

    By offer­ing them­selves to the truncheons, the ‘books’ occupy the threshold between being the guard­ian of know­ledge (sym­bol) and the object of destruc­tion (mater­ial), just as the ‘books’ them­selves are sim­ul­tan­eously both ‘book’ (sym­bol) and shield (mater­ial). In other words, the func­tions of both mater­ial object and its cor­res­pond­ing sym­bol are trans­posed in the sub­lim­at­ing ges­ture, res­ult­ing in the Book Bloc becom­ing both preacher and arson­ist or as you say, the ‘down­trod­den elite’. As such, the Book Bloc is an expres­sion of the prob­lem at hand; how do we redir­ect the schizo­phrenic resent­ment of the downtrodden?

  5. Gilbert Leung on 21 December 2010 at 8:41 am

    Could a cer­tain ‘schizo­phrenia’ of the down­trod­den be an advant­age? See CLT post of 21 Decem­ber 2010: Towards a Rad­ical Anti-​Capitalist Schizophrenia?

  6. Gilbert Leung on 21 December 2010 at 9:34 am

    There has been interest in the ori­ginal Vic­tor Hugo poem. Here it is in French (I couldn’t find an Eng­lish Translation).

    A QUI LA FAUTE?

    Tu viens d’incendier la Bibliothèque ?

    - Oui.
    J’ai mis le feu là.

    - Mais c’est un crime inouï !
    Crime com­mis par toi contre toi-​même, infâme !
    Mais tu viens de tuer le rayon de ton âme !
    C’est ton propre flam­beau que tu viens de souffler !
    Ce que ta rage impie et folle ose brûler,
    C’est ton bien, ton trésor, ta dot, ton hérit­age
    Le livre, hos­tile au maître, est à ton avant­age.
    Le livre a tou­jours pris fait et cause pour toi.
    Une bib­lio­thèque est un acte de foi
    Des généra­tions ténébreuses encore
    Qui rendent dans la nuit témoignage à l’aurore.
    Quoi! dans ce vénér­able amas des vérités,
    Dans ces chefs-d’oeuvre pleins de foudre et de clartés,
    Dans ce tombeau des temps devenu réper­toire,
    Dans les siècles, dans l’homme antique, dans l’histoire,
    Dans le passé, leçon qu’épelle l’avenir,
    Dans ce qui com­mença pour né jamais finir,
    Dans les poètes! quoi, dans ce gouf­fre des bibles,
    Dans le divin mon­ceau des Eschyles ter­ribles,
    Des Homères, des jobs, debout sur l’horizon,
    Dans Molière, Voltaire et Kant, dans la raison,
    Tu jettes, mis­ér­able, une torche enflam­mée !
    De tout l’esprit humain tu fais de la fumée !
    As-​tu donc oublié que ton libérat­eur,
    C’est le livre ? Le livre est là sur la hauteur;
    Il luit; parce qu’il brille et qu’il les illu­mine,
    Il détruit l’échafaud, la guerre, la fam­ine
    Il parle, plus d’esclave et plus de paria.
    Ouvre un livre. Pla­ton, Milton, Bec­caria.
    Lis ces prophètes, Dante, ou Shakespeare, ou Corneille
    L’âme immense qu’ils ont en eux, en toi s’éveille ;
    Ébloui, tu te sens le même homme qu’eux tous ;
    Tu devi­ens en lis­ant grave, pensif et doux ;
    Tu sens dans ton esprit tous ces grands hommes croître,
    Ils t’enseignent ainsi que l’aube éclaire un cloître
    À mesure qu’il plonge en ton coeur plus avant,
    Leur chaud rayon t’apaise et te fait plus vivant ;
    Ton âme inter­ro­gée est prête à leur répon­dre ;
    Tu te recon­nais bon, puis meil­leur; tu sens fon­dre,
    Comme la neige au feu, ton orgueil, tes fureurs,
    Le mal, les préjugés, les rois, les empereurs !
    Car la sci­ence en l’homme arrive la première.
    Puis vient la liberté. Toute cette lumière,
    C’est à toi com­prends donc, et c’est toi qui l’éteins !
    Les buts rêvés par toi sont par le livre atteints.
    Le livre en ta pensée entre, il défait en elle
    Les liens que l’erreur à la vérité mêle,
    Car toute con­science est un noeud gordien.
    Il est ton méde­cin, ton guide, ton gardien.
    Ta haine, il la guérit ; ta démence, il te l’ôte.
    Voilà ce que tu perds, hélas, et par ta faute !
    Le livre est ta richesse à toi ! c’est le savoir,
    Le droit, la vérité, la vertu, le devoir,
    Le pro­grès, la raison dis­sipant tout délire.
    Et tu détruis cela, toi !

    - Je né sais pas lire.

  7. Biblioclasms on 17 January 2011 at 12:44 pm

    Just to pick up on the idea of the Book Bloc as an act of sym­bolic self-​immolation, it’s both dis­turb­ing and inter­est­ing to see a grow­ing trend, in the Arab world, of very real acts of self-​immolation: http://​blog​.for​eign​policy​.com/​p​o​s​t​s​/​2​0​1​1​/​0​1​/​1​7​/​t​h​e​_​a​r​a​b​_​w​o​r​l​d​s​_​h​o​r​r​i​f​i​c​_​n​e​w​_​t​r​e​n​d​_​s​e​l​f​_​i​m​m​o​l​a​t​ion

    In addi­tion to the acts men­tioned in this piece, reports have been com­ing in over the last half-​hour describ­ing yet another self-​burning in Mauritania.

  8. Gilbert Leung on 18 January 2011 at 4:58 pm
  9. […] highly cre­at­ive forms of protest that have recently taken place in the UK by, for example, the Book Bloc and UK Uncut. But why Punk? Wasn’t Punk just some flash in the pan music scene from the 1970s? […]

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