Globalisation and Freedom

PREMIS ONE: The greater is the unification of human commerce, the greater too is the diminution of judgements, and subsequently freedom.

PREMIS TWO: The greater is the unification of communication, the greater is the increase of judgements and subsequently freedom.

If both these statements are correct, what does this say about our globalised world that both expands and unites commerce and communication?

Neo-liberal economists argue that commerce is information (e.g., the marketplace can be read and interpreted) and is therefore communication. However, we need to understand that this kind of process is really a unification of communication through a filter, the filter of commerce, which is primarily elitist and autocratic because the information about the market is only read from the point-of-view of the top and is always reductionist. The increase of judgements provided by a united global economy do not therefore lead to any growth of freedom on a human scale. It is too burdened by its dangerous dogmas of continual growth and perpetual consumerism.

For any globalisation process to engender freedom, therefore, it would need to firstly liberate global communication from the confinement of the marketplace. For the world to be global and free, we need to create a new kind of economy modelled on the virtues of communication, rather than enslaving information and communication to the benefits of commerce.     



GALIMATIAS: But if art is to save humanity, mustn’t it be a bit more pragmatic?

ADKIN: There is plenty of pragmatic art around now. But it’s not saving anyone … No … Definitely not. The less pragmatic art is, the better.

GALIMATIAS: But surely, one of the prime causes of art is communication …

ADKIN: Perhaps the prime cause. Communication might be the very essence of art, but wrapped up in art’s communication is the question –what must be communicated by art? – or – when is communication art and when is it not? Communicating an interesting story is not a priori art. The communication has to be given another cause, which is bigger than the mere need to communicate itself, in order to make it art.

GALIMATIAS: The Big Question, for example.

ADKIN: Yes, the Big Question … or the final cause … something that will create a resonance and lift veils that reveal landscapes that open out into realms that take us beyond the story itself …

But I’m starting to feel the direction of this conversation is seeping into dangerous areas – as if I were actually suggesting some kind of methodology for artists.

All I’m really saying is that art needs to have questioning artists if it is to remain a meaningful phenomenon.

GALIMATIAS: And implying that you think art should remain a meaningful thing.

ADKIN: Ah yes, of course … but each artist to his or her own method. And there are many different methodologies to choose from. But the important thing is not to let the methodology limit the scope of creation. Use as many different methodologies as you like. If the methodology is any could it will not be a closed circle. That means that you can colour your work with different approaches.

GALIMATIAS: Like a collage?

ADKIN: It doesn’t have to be so extreme. If we look at theatre, for example, it is undoubtedly, since Stanislavsky, the most methodologically based of all art forms.

GALIMATIAS: Especially if we consider that students in art schools these days are encouraged to abandon aesthetic principles and shun drawing.

ADKIN: But while the plastic arts abandoned methodology in the 20th century, the theatre world suddenly embraced it and preached the importance of the laboratory. Stanislavsky created a Husslerian transcendental phenomenology for theatre based on the power of the interrogative …

GALIMATIAS: Which you use yourself in your writing …

ADKIN: … in a different way, but, yes … However, I firmly believe that taking Stanislavsky’s approach to acting or directing is not enough … as did Meyerhold and Brecht, and Grotowski … and none of them are completely satisfying either. When an actor gets too much Method it becomes impossible to act and we have to teach them how to act without thinking … This is not to say that learning the methodologies is bad … or that a painter should not learn how to draw … Knowledge – like the Big Question in novel writing – has to be confronted. But also, like the Big Questions, it has to be wrestled with then left alone.

All musicians know that there is an excruciating process of mechanical repetition needed in order for your body to learn how and where to place one’s fingers on the instrument. And that this torturous process has to be endured before one can ever play anything well. Yet the actual playing should only happen when you’re able to play without thinking where your fingers need to be at all.

GALIMATIAS: I’ve heard you say several times that the essence of art is music.

ADKIN: Yes, and the essence of music is mathematics. Theatre is all about rhythm and harmony, and so is novel writing and painting. And good art will always have its geometry. Art is linked inextricably to mathematics because mathematics is our first abstraction of the universe and art is the same thing. Language also is music, is mathematics. Best not to forget that.



We have seen how Identity and its ideological masks is in essence a separating force, dividing humanity.[i] In the same way it shackles consciousness and freedom by enclosing reality and restricting the progressive need of movement, of becoming. Becoming also needs consciousness so we get a circular situation in which becoming depends on consciousness as its motor and consciousness needs becoming as a car needs a road. Becoming is the space that opens up in existence, allowing us to move freely through it, changing it, and being changed by it. The very act of knowing that consciousness performs is at the same time an act of becoming. Reality is therefore transformed by being known into something else. Knowing and consciousness are themselves the prime movers of human reality, whilst ideology and identity are static elements continually slowing reality down. In this way we can link ideologies and identity to consciousness’s antipathies, i.e. unconsciousness and false-consciousness.

Identity and ideology, of course, are kinds of consciousness. A very strong self-consciousness. So, does this mean that we are essentially always deluded when we tell ourselves that I am this? And yet, if this were the case, how could we possibly exist in society without defining ourselves and the world around us? Doesn’t language, the basis of all Sapien knowledge, imply the necessity for constant naming and definition? How can this apparent contradiction or paradox be resolved?

In order to do this we must remind ourselves that identity/ideology is a separating process whereas consciousness and language are communicating, uniting mechanisms. Again we see that the two categories are opposites. The difference lies in what ideology does with language: it encloses it, making it immobile. Consciousness, on the other hand, tries to open the landscape up for language. The problem therefore is not the process of naming, but the ends to which the naming is carried out. To separate (identify) or to bring together (consciousness). Knowing implies a break down or transcendence of secrecy and privacy. It implies there has been communication. Ideology/identity is a misapprehension of taking part for the whole, whilst consciousness is an awareness of the whole, or at least a striving for such an awareness.

[i] See articles on Identity as Ideology: ; ;



“Language is the house of being”[i] said Heidegger. It is through language that the Homo sapiens knows. It is through some kind of language that all knowing takes place. Hence: knowing comes from communication.

Can we say that language, communication and knowing are basically the same thing? They are certainly interdependent. If there is a separation it would be sequentially: first came language, then communication, which resulted in knowing. A chain which is reversed if we add the concept of need to it: first came the need to know; then came the need for communication and from these needs came the manifestation of language.

“Thinking accomplishes the relation of Being to the essence of the human being.”[ii] Thinking is the instrument of knowing, or the path towards knowing. Heidegger regards it as an accomplishment in itself, but we must bear in mind Heidegger’s definition of accomplishment “as an unfolding into the fullness of essence.”[iii] For Heidegger accomplishment is a process towards the thing to be fulfilled rather than the fulfilment itself. Why does he make this distinction? The fulfilment of thinking is knowing, but is true knowing a real possibility? In the absolute sense it is certainly not, and so knowing itself is a continuous process – an unfolding of fulfilment rather than the fulfilment itself. So thinking is an unfolding which allows the possibility of another unfolding. It is the bud unfolding into the flower which will eventually develop into a fruit which carries the seed, which…

“Thinking is l’engagement by and for the truth of Being.”[iv] Thinking is brought forth in Being by Being itself in order that Being may attain its fulfilment, and the fulfilment of thinking in knowing. The Fulfilment of Being is to Be Known.

“Thinking is the thinking of Being.”[v] Why not: Being is the thinking of Being. To be is not enough, it must be a combination: to be and to be thought.

To be known and be,

Or not to be known and never be;

That is the question




[i] Martin Heidegger, Letter On Humanism, p.239

[ii] Ibid

[iv] Ibid, p. 240

[v] Ibid, p. 241



In an art with depth, the object is not really there. In a sense what is given in this kind of art is a specular image reflected into a third mirror (see our earlier essays on Rodrigo Garcia, Luigi Nono and Zabriskie Point). What this does is add distance to any mimicry, and, at the same time, to any complexity. Deep art should be imagined as a kind of maze which first appears as a box or room, but with invisible doors or walls that can be pushed open if one knows how. These doors lead one into more spaces of different sizes, each one with its own exits unto more seemingly enclosed systems. The richness of the experience lies in the fact that each exit can only be discovered if one can know or can discover the symbolic reference to the next space.

Could the Internet be considered an autarchic experience of deep art? In order to do so, one would need to be willing and capable of losing oneself within it, and likewise be capable of stepping away from it in order to analyse the experience from the advantage of distance. What’s more, for a deep art experience to take place, one must be prepared to pause and linger at times, so hard in the Internet which obsessively pushes any audience on to new topics, inviting, tempting, forcing us at times to leave the room we first of all settled in. The Internet experience can get so foggy that we even forget where we started from. For a deep art experience to be meaningful one must have one’s imagination firmly rooted in where one came from in the first place. It is a labyrinth in which one never completely loses touch with the original point of departure. The original room is that which allows us to navigate: forgetting where we are coming from will make it impossible for us to find our way forward or back. It is only by learning how and when to move slowly through the maze that one can dominate it and allow it to become an enriching rather than a frustrating experience.

Or perhaps the Internet is too autistic to be truly satisfying. It has its webcams and its chats, but they don’t belong to the autarchic labyrinth we are interested in here. What we are interested in is its power as a vital museum, come encyclopaedic library, come art gallery, come theatre and cinema and concert hall. But its very immersing quality robs us of the real vital experience we have when we go to these traditional spaces to witness art. It lacks the public. And here we must ask ourselves: how much does the experience of great art depend on it being a public act? Or, should art be classified into the public and private experience? Theatre, for example, is impossible to conceive without an audience (the more the merrier), whilst a novel is a purely private experience (a public reading of a novel is hardly likely to be as enjoyable as the experience of reading to oneself). Could it be said that the richest art-culture experience has to include both possibilities? Does the Internet do this, if only potentially?

Does the Internet disclose any truth? Or even attempt to disclose truth? And, what kind of intersubjectivity is unleashed in its relationship between the artist and the spectator? Only when the Internet is used in its immense folding and unfolding capacity, in a meaningful disclosing way under an artist’s control, will we be able to consider it capable of offering a deeply artistic experience. This is possible. It is certainly a potentially powerful tool for accessing information, and culture is information. What Internet does, by presenting a potential access to universal information and culture universally, is pave the way to a universal culture, which, if it is honestly expressed, must be an authentically human culture. Whilst the Internet is free from manipulation and censorship there is hope for a universal, human cultural development. In fact a free Internet is humanity’s best chance for a free world.



Luigi Nono’s operetta “A Floreta é jovem y Cheja de Visa” (1966) concludes with the text in English: “Is this all we can do?”


In April 2012, Rodrigo Garcia presented a version of Nono’s work in Madrid. Garcia stretched the piece out from the forty minutes of musical performance time by adding an hour of text. The text was read by actors, almost always sitting comfortably in low chairs with microphones. The text, which was a barrage of pop culture imagery, was accompanied by life-streaming video montages of small objects that were dipped into a large tub of chocolate.

Nono’s opera, which could be translated as “The forest is young, and full of life” is supposed to deal with the Vietnam war. It is slow, strident at times, tonally rich, but also messy and often uncomfortable. The text, which is mainly illegible and layered, is apparently a collage of revolutionary slogans.

The version by Garcia seems at first to be two separate works with little connection, but he inserts a conduit: Michaelangelo Antonioni’s film: Zabrinskie Point.

Zabriskie explosion_z

In effect we have a double mirroring between Garcia and Nono and Antonioni, or a triple mirroring because Garcia’s work reflects back on the other two. The connections seem tenuous at first, but that very looseness makes it more powerful: the artistic power of ambiguity.

Through ambiguity in art we get a lack of cohesiveness, provoking the hungry mind to become actively involved in its own interpretation of the piece. The hunger, of course, has to be fed by an intersubjectivity betwen the artist and the audience – there has to be resonance of feeling in order to stimulate the intellectual side of the subject with a need to locate reasons for the resonance. The audience member not only has to ask “what is going on here?” he or she has to be motivated to search for a reason to want to answer the question themselves.

This reason has to come from the resonance. Once resonance has been felt, ambiguity will turn the audience into an interested detective. We are present, physically present, but epistemologically absent.

Of course, for many- perhaps most – observers this is an unsettling experience to say the least. For the artist, this kind of creation poses two negative possibilities: a) the piece will be totally misinterpreted by the audience, or b) the epistemological alienation will provoke a negative defence mechanism which will shut off the audience’s desire to investigate, rendering the whole piece unbearable and provoke exodus. Likewise, mainstream media has created a predominantly passive relationship between the work and the audience. Art is confused with entertainment. Artists are expected to be entertainers. The atmosphere provoked by such a situation is deadly for the arts as intersubjective communicators of the inward truth/lie. Fear of failure makes artistic pessimistic and in the arts today, pessimism reigns. The artist sinks into the black pool of an interior isolation. But the truth is that this pessimism is also illusory. The need for true art is always there, even if it is not recognised institutionally.

Zabriskie Point

Here we have a metaphor of life in the market-driven world of information: it’s no longer what we know that is important but what we don’t know. What is being lost by being immersed in that which is offered us by the mainstream or by other failure-fearful artists? By having our attention driven towards the juicy fruits of gossip, entertainment, and pornography, we are effectively being rendered unaware of the challenges. This is not just a commercial or political manipulation, with ideological or profit making ends, it is also a creation of spiritual absenteeism. The more deeply intersubjective we are the more difficult it is for us to be manipulated, so intersubjectivity is discouraged by avoiding alienation. The System,  prefers a shallow reality created by the passive immersion of the audience. Herein lies the inherent totalitarianism behind Hollywood. Art as entertainment requires no effort from the spectator. The illusory reality, Hollywood’s virtual-film reality, absorbs the spectator, dictates the reality in which we are immersed and then spits us out. The whole experience is an escape from life, a nihilistic substitution from the mundane reality of the real life experience.


Art as an experience of “truth” however, is centred not in what is revealed, but on what is absent, inviting the audience to search for that absence themselves. An idea anathema to the System which must project a veneer of perfection despite its nihilistic substance. The consumer market-place must tolerate art for art represents the freedom it itself purports to extol, but as a systemic phenomenon the market-place can only tolerate artistic freedom as long as it is capable of invisibly castrating art’s potent intersubjective resonances and transforming art itself into a Disneyland factory of superficial escapism. The orthodoxy of Hollywood is anti-heterodoxical like all orthodoxies, and it is in this orthodoxy that we can discern the repulsion the system has for art, and with its repulsion for art, its repulsion for truth.

Go to Part Two



The artist is often advised to ask him or herself who is his or her art aimed at? Likewise the writer is asked: “who are you writing for?” But in doing so the more important question of what (what is being addressed through the artistic creation?; what are we trying to bestow?; what are we trying to communicate?) is pushed into second place or worse. The who question, which seems so important for publishers and their publicists or for arts council grants, should always be an irrelevant interrogative because in its essence it is a tautological one: the subject addressed by the artist must in its essence be a human one, transmitted for humanity. The human is rooted in the essence of the term art and any exclusion (this work is not for them) is, by that exclusion, anti-human and anti-art. Not that art has to speak lowly so that all can understand it through its simplicity; in fact it should be allowed to speak from any register, but that choice of register has to come from asking oneself what is being addressed in the work rather than who is it being addressed to.

In order to see the true potential of what the artist is addressing it is necessary to not extricate the so-called fine arts and music and literature from their cousins in the Arts or Humanities, or human sciences such as psychology, philosophy, history, sociology, architecture, etc., nor from the pure sciences. All of these activities have a common-function which is expressed in the uncovering or peeling open of reality in order to find the essence and by so doing come to an understanding of what our place, as humans, is in this reality.

The role of both art and science, therefore, is to know, and through knowing to understand. But just as art is about knowing and understanding reality, an area usually associated with the sciences, so is science about representing, which is a function traditionally attributed to the arts. Therefore we can say that all the arts and sciences have their essence in knowing, understanding, and representing reality.

Whether through fiction or non-fiction the human perception of reality is formed through our arts and sciences: reality is both truth and imagination. And if reality is truth and imagination what is non-reality other than lies. Lies are an aberration or a perversion between truth and imagination. Lies are fictions created to be passed off as truths in order to benefit the liar in some way.

Another role of art and science is to unmask these lies and for this reason skepticism and cynicism are useful, if not difficult and dangerous tools, for artists and scientists alike. Part of the role of art and science becomes the act of revealing the lies for what they are, such as when they infiltrate our imaginations through seduction or by imposition through habits or norms.



In his book “Tarrying with the Negative” Slavoj Žižek makes a very lucid association between enjoyment and national identification. The binding force of the State lies in its perception that the subjects of each nation have a particular way of enjoying themselves. Of course this ties democracy to a hedonistic rock: it is not the good that matters in politics, but the enjoyment that it ensures – or the good is defined by the enjoyment. Capitalism exploits this national inclination to enjoy, unleashing the full power of it by motorising it with it via consumerism’s will-to-want-more.

Of course this unleashing itself is an inherently dangerous act, for under its tenets, in order to have what we want we must have whatever we want – and in order to have whatever we want we need to have the freedom of the Master, and the Master’s freedom is derived through his/her power. This power is sustained by its power over slaves, which is absurd for, in theory, there can be no slaves in our modern concept of democracy, or at least no slaves who are conscious of being slaves. Or perhaps the resolution of the paradox lies in that very unconsciousness: if there were such slaves they must be unconscious ones, likewise driven by the will to want more enjoyment. Each of the System’s unconscious slaves vainly misinterprets him/herself as a master, with a master’s dignity, jealous of the enjoyment of the others.

The driving force of the consumer-will is a breaking apart dynamic with a negative chaos tendency that is undesirable and must be resisted. The consumer-will needs to be controlled, and so we arrive at State Capitalism, which is one step toward a more total control. Žižek was right to associate fascism with capitalism: “the fascist dream is simply to have capitalism without its excess, without the antagonism that causes its structural imbalance.”[1] In a slaveless society of Masters, the norm is that of Frazer’s myth of the King in the Wood.

That story which Frazer used as his starting point for his anthropological study in the Golden Bough is supposedly mainly an invention of Frazer himself. Nevertheless, factual or not, as a metaphor of power it itself is a brilliant piece of unveiling mythology. Its image of the priest-king, sword in hand, stalking the woodlands and lake of Nemi, anxiously anticipating the arrival of a rival who will come and slay him is an extension of the Oedipal myth that dominates the subliminal structure of our civilisation. But, what is the way out of this forest?


Lacan called knowledge “the enjoyment of the Other”. According to him the very function of knowledge is motivated by its dialectic with enjoyment. [2]  We want to know things because we want enjoy things. The hysteric intertwines knowledge and enjoyment and makes it his/her own because the hysteric wants to make him or herself to be known, which they can only do by being desired as something which can be enjoyed.

But if knowledge and enjoyment are entwined, what is consumerism’s relationship with knowledge? Capitalism vulgarises knowledge, reducing it to the simple – if you know it exists you will want to buy it. Knowing is propagated superficially and misleadingly through the medium of advertising.

Yet, what if we were to modify or reinvent the relationship by seeing knowledge itself as the predominant factor in enjoyment. The pleasure comes from truly knowing something, not just knowing of it. Enjoyment now becomes a Sapiens’, [3] authentically human concept. To love it is to know it. And to know it as it really is, rather than to know it in the way we are told to know it. To see it as it really is rather than in the way it is shown us. In Lacanian terms, knowledge is a slave to the Master Discourse of the system, so, in the same terms, what is needed is a liberation of knowledge from the slavery to this Master’s Discourse. In order to do this Lacan gives three suggestions: objectify it; analyse it in a subversive way; or “hystericise” it.

If the Master Discourse which is geared toward maintaining the Master-system’s own power to enjoy whatever, utilises a seduction motorised by a vulgar desire to enjoy, then any analyses geared toward knowing before enjoyment and focusing on the idea that authentic pleasure is found precisely through knowledge, will be essentially subversive. For example, Stoicism, if practised today, would have to be seen as an absolutely subversive philosophy.

What the global, capitalist civilization wants its subjects to know is that language is not enough to tackle the breadth of what she as a system can offer as enjoyment. What is really important to capitalism is that she can be seen as the system of all systems. Through her discourse the whole world should come to know what a precious, invaluable object she is.

Capitalism regards the information age as its own invention. Information, therefore, is regarded by the System as the System’s slave, and, in the most part it is. The revolution, any revolution against the information manipulating Master, must be geared toward turning information into knowledge again. This can only be achieved by making information the Master itself, instead of the slave to the Other Master. Revolution then, as we see it, is a liberation of knowledge.

Once knowledge has been liberated from the shackles of the global capitalist system, it will be able to renew its discourse with enjoyment again. A discourse which can be authentic now, for without the self-interested manipulation of consumerism, it will be free to be deontological and ontological again. Knowledge can be knowledge again, allowing the human to be truly Sapiens for the first time.



What are we doing in this world now, if not making money for them? in actual fact  we’ve always been doing it for them: building their monuments, their pyramids and towers, their walls. Walls that have been erected to separate us from humanity, to instil us with a belief that our identity is something else.

Kafka lamented this condition in his The Great Wall of China: “Why then.. did we leave our homes, the stream with its bridges, our mothers and fathers, our weeping wives, our children who needed our care, and depart… to the wall in the north?” Why leave everything that unites us in order to build a wall that will separate us?

Even before the wall was built, the mere conception of its possibility had already pulled us away. The “Why?”, says Kafka, is a question for the high command: they know us. “They, absorbed in gigantic anxieties, know of us, know our petty pursuits, see us sitting together in our humble huts.” But the Great Wall is nothing new, it is just a seemingly novel idea to come from a High Command that has “existed from old time… from all eternity.” Yet even the novelty of the idea is false, for that too, the idea to embark on a massive separation, has also existed for all eternity.

Judaic mythology blames our separation on a divine action of retribution against human pride. It was God who destroyed Babel and condemned humanity to become an atomised species, jabbering different tongues. But the erection of walls, or the provocation of the new to build walls, were the first great crimes against humanity. In Kafka’s story it is implied that the idea of making the wall preceded any apparent need for it. Kafka’s message could be: the High Command realised that they can only have power if humanity is a divided species, and everything we have now stems from that basic inspiration: Divide, and thou shalt conquer.

As a bureaucrat Kafka was well aware of the obscurity of empire, of the opaqueness of the system itself. Where clarity can be found it is more illusive than real. He writes: “The farther one descends among the lower schools the more… does one find teachers’ and pupils’ doubts of their own knowledge vanishing, and a superficial culture mounting sky high round a few precepts that have been drilled into people’s minds for centuries, precepts which, though they have lost nothing of their eternal truth, remain eternally invisible in this fog of confusion.”

But what Kafka intuits in his story is that what the Emperor is building is not just a wall but a labyrinth. A labyrinth that will protect the truth from escaping. To get the message out we can no longer rely on the straightforward exchange of a pony express galloping over a flat plain. The idea, any idea, has now to navigate through the complex space of the labyrinthine construction that is civilisation. The purity of the message is sullied and soiled almost even before it has been uttered. The great irony of our information age is that all messages must become rarefied and succinct if they are to survive the maze of jabber. The result is a sensationalism which has become insipid in the network of constant exultations.

Communication through wide open spaces buried the truth of its messages in the time it needed to cross those vast reaches. Now that distance has been conquered it is the crampedness of the space that defeats truth and obscures meaning. Kafka’s dismaying conclusion still rings true for despite all the swiftness of our Internet, and “though… the gruesomeness of the living present,” can be irrefutably conveyed by those who convey their messages to us, we “laughed, shook our heads and refused to listen any longer. So eager are our people to obliterate the present.”

In a world of babble our listening faculties become atrophied by the abusive overdose of gibberish we are subject to: “there is a certain feebleness of faith and imaginative power in part of the people, that prevents them from raising the empire out of its stagnation.. and clasping it in all its palpable living reality to their own breasts…”

Kafka was brilliantly lucid in his perception, and, perhaps because of that, he disguised any revolutionary ideas within his irony. In order to survive the day to day we had better be submissive to the system: “To set about establishing a fundamental defect here would mean undermining not only our consciences, but, what is far worse, our feet.” To keep standing it is best to conform to the Emperor, or to the authority of the Great Father. The idea possesses great common sense, but a submission to it means that the sadistic arm of the Emperor will continue to slap us all and its fingers will steal from us over and over again, while accusing us of being forever indebted to it, and forever condemned to pay back our debt. The Emperor prays on us and plunders the world, and, so, frankly, it seems like a good time, perhaps there has never been a better one, to establish the fundamental defeat and begin the task of pulling down the walls of the labyrinth we are lost in.



(from the Greek: NEIKOS = strife, + PHILIA = love)

noun: a love of strife

Neikosphiliac, noun: a person or thing that demonstrates a love of strife

Neikospiliacal, adj.: the quality of being neikosphiliac



Capitalism as a manifestation of neikosphilia.

Capitalism and its cruel neikosphilia.




At first the neikosphilia presents a positive mask, manifesting itself as freedom. But the freedom is merely a pleasant sensation of release from the monotony caused by equilibrium and harmony, and is really the first sign of chaos created strife. Eventually the chaos inherent in the capitalist neikosphilia-lust will become obvious, even seemingly appear unavoidable and necessary.