Nothing We Do is Secret: Resistance and Failure in the Punk Movement

Knowledge is power, and power is classification. The “pen is mightier than the sword” because the pen defined the sword: it wrote the word, it classified it, ordered it, filed it, and related it to other swords. The sword conquered the world, but the pen ordered the stab, the gouge, and the slice. The ability to classify things, to order them, is to create and destroy them all at once. All violence begins in the expression of order, and of knowledge. There can be no sufficient fight before one knows the man from the woman, the human from the animal, the logical from the passionate, and the bourgeois from the proletariat. It is only in this specification of binaries that all human action takes place, and thus, all reaction dies before the first clash of the sword — all resistance dies in the naming of the self. One of the most notable cultural resistances of the twentieth century was “Punk,” a culture of music, fashion, and action. This culture boasts itself as the sword, while it is the pen in disguise. Punk, in short, is the performance of its own definition — a Discourse formed through the expression of itself in the action of individual bodies. By examining this culture — its fashions, its actions, and its music — a thesis is reached: that punk is the simulation of resistance, a system completely reliant on the action of performing; punk is pure ideology in a mirage of resistance.

Punk is performative in the traditional sense; it does do what it says it is: it does punk. Punk in what definition? The dictionary definition (Merriam-Webster) of punk is this: (noun) “a young, inexperienced person,” (of “punk rock”) “one who affects punk styles;” (adjective) “very poor: Inferior,” (of “punk rock”) “relating to or being a style (as of dress or hair) inspired by punk rock.” Using this standard definition, the “performative” aspect of punk becomes clear: the actions of punk music/culture perform the other definitions — i.e. “very poor: inferior” or “young, inexperienced person;” a lot of the groups have this characteristic (whether this is intentional, or not, is another question). Therein lies the problem — when something becomes defined, does is become discursive? Discourse, as Foucault describes it, is a system of knowledge about a certain fringe element. It is system of knowledge that uses the center (mass culture) to define periphery against itself (a la Orientalism, and Said); thus, the center only exists in opposition to the periphery: we’re not them, because we’re us. Yet when Discourse studies a fringe/margin, that margin becomes co-opted. This is the phenomenon that one could say happened very early in the history of punk — perhaps in the 70s. And since that “death” or that cooptation, the discourse has placed punk in a center of its own. Thus, there is the periphery within punk for punk to define itself. An example could be: the center (hardcore punk) defines itself against the periphery of all “sub-genres” or punk; say, avant-garde punk, jazzcore, post-jazzcore, noise, etc. etc.

For this analysis, it is only safe to stick to one central genre or risk a nauseating prattle. The study of all punk subgenres would be massive, and the study itself a discursive factor creating intellectual “places” for resistance — thus ruining them.

Perhaps it would be better to investigate what defines the center, or rather, what defines the form of punk.

The Form of Punk

Performance: per — (form) — ance. It is in performance that form truly takes hold. If one were to discuss the performance of some dance or art, they would be discussing the form of the dance, perhaps its aesthetics, or difficulty. In either case, form is the main concern in the discussion of performance — and if there is going to be a sufficient thesis on discourse and performance then form must come first. Thus, what defines the form of punk? There is the dictionary definition, but that hardly constitutes a study of form.

Form, in this sense, constitutes a method more than a shape. There is no shape to punk, but rather a gestalt method: a method which can be reproduced, studied, shaped, and understood. In other words, punk isn’t just a style fashioned after music genre; no, punk constitutes a systematic ideology comprised of smaller parts: fashion systems, simulations, style, and music; all in an effort to define itself. That is the form of punk — to define itself as a chaotic resistance system. So, in theory, the performance of this defining form would be the performance of resistance, and of chaos.

This means nothing without “text” behind it. Thus, some examples:

The Form of Chaos

This photograph (from the early 80s) shows what could be the result of a mosh pit, but it is not certain. The performance of defining one’s self as chaotic is very apparent in this photo: the dancing is formless, and gritty. There is piling, a confusion of limbs; what could be more chaotic in definition? These punks are operators of a form previously described — to define itself as resistive and chaotic. They play the games and perform the actions of this ideological form, thus not only defining the form of punk in general, but defining themselves as punk by doing so. While the photo above may represent the form of chaos — resistance is honestly more critical to the form of punk, and the music is chock-full of resistive performances:

“Smash the Mac, smash the Mac, / Smash the Mac, smash the Big Mac. Bronco burgers, burnt out brains, / Sterile fat, deadly rain, /Chemical colours, Kentucky creams, / Cut your teeth on American…. dreams” CRASS, “Smash the Mac”(The Form of Resistance)

In music, as opposed the photos, the words can be “clearer” in communicating form: this crass song has more potential for defining form than dancing — for on one level it is a text, and on the other, it is more accessible. The song cleverly attacks McDonalds and the U.S. in a biting way “cut your teeth on American… dreams.” What does this do for the form of punk? I’ve defined the form of punk as an action towards defining oneself as chaotic, and a resistor, but how do song lyrics like these do anything to that trope? It is simple: they create it. In essence, punk’s form is shaped by its utterances — every moment of punk became a moment of definition, further establishing some referent about “punkness.” Every time the word “punk” is assigned to a body, that person becomes a disciple, putting physical form behind the definition, performing the actions of the form, and furthering the sedimentation.

Yet it could also be said that every mention of form in regards to punk is a detriment: say, if you yell out “I’m going to hit you!” repeatedly, while delivering no punches, the victim would gradually move out of fear and into prediction — that predictability is cultural stability. Even if you did punch every time, they would know what to except. Yet, the act of defining one’s actions continually only makes them predictable, manageable, and unthreatening. Punk is perhaps the one of the most predictable genres, in regards to action. The fans will funnel in, putting on airs of a guttural anarchism, dance around in a circle for a couple hours, and perhaps someone will get beat up, stepped on, shoved, or helped up. It is this predictability which defines a co-opted culture more than the culture itself.

Like the Crass lyrics and the picture, each performance of punk brings it further and further into clay form; or, rather, every action defines it more in terms of a central, dominant cultural group. Every action, it could be said, moves punk further and further away from the reality of punk. Every notion that “punk’s not dead” only makes it more, because in the simplest order of things, punk was it’s own death — and it was born to die — to live fast, die young; yet, somehow it remained old and senile, becoming the forgettable ghost of resistance, undying, lingering, lingering in a state of simulation.

C’est ne pas une Punk: Simulations of Resistance

The simulation of resistance is the true death of punk — once and for all. Not simulation in the “poseur” sense, but rather in what Jean Baudrillard would consider the apices of image phases: the fourth stage — “It bears to relation to realty whatever: it is its own pure simulacrum.” A complete, and utter simulation which happens first in the fashion system — the most key fetish of all punk. Every-body within the system subscribes to one system or another; this association is what defines them. This example should transition into a deeper explanation:

A punk, en costume

The patches, which include “GG ALLIN,” show the trace of resistance. G.G. Allin, speaking frankly, represents oppositional resistance in them most spectacular (yet hardly joyous) way imaginable: oral sex on stage, nude performances, random violence, sexual assaults, covering himself in feces, to name a few. What follows is clear: this boy/man (?) pictured is certainly not being oppositional — he may be performing his role as a “punk” but not as GG Allin did — and thus, simulating his resistance. The loss of resistance is in the performance of performance, or when performance is “defanged” by simulation, not quite simulation, but reference. Reference in performance: by putting the GG Allin patch on his shirt, the boy is reaching for a reference to some complex collection of signifiers; or, rather, is participating in performative discourse shaped by the individual instances. The boy is not claiming to be GG Allin as simulation would make it seem — no, it’s in the casual references that punk kills its idols. It is to say that GG Allin never even happened; yes he did exist in flesh and blood — yet — only as a signifier for the discourse of himself. Let me put it this way: GG Allin, to keep with the example, is an imaginary litany of signifiers — arranged in a system which is shaped by each performance of the system; i.e. this boy’s patch becomes a performative signifier, enforcing the “trace” of GG Allin. There is no “real” behind the patch, only reference to other patches, to music, to videos, to the flesh of Allin, and to an idea of an essence — an essence of GG Allin-ness. Thus is punk — only a sculpted system of references, used ad nauseum, which leaves the punk slam dancing, alone, in the desert of the real.

This desert of the real is the enemy of what punk tries to do. To speak frankly of the effectiveness: the action of destroying this “real” destroys any chance that punk has to fight correctly. This is seen in the form of punk — every utterance only beats a dead horse, continually abandoning any sense of the real and only sedimenting some idealized idea of punk in as punk itself. What credibility does an “anti-consumerist,” D.I.Y. resistance have when it is flooded with ideological effigies and symbols of a mass, material culture? The boy wearing the patches flies his flag — so to speak — of all the things he likes to associate himself with. By doing this he splits himself up into many different ideological patterns, unable to make any individual action because all his resistance is indirect; or, his patches speak for him, leaving only the trace of many signifiers. In the case of the GG Allin patch, the “flag” carries the trace of many different signifiers: “by wearing this patch I represent this, this, and this,” so to speak. Like the Sickle and Hammer, or the American Flag, or the Union Jack, these symbols carry traces of actions associated with them. A Germs armband carries the trace of Darby Crash’s self-destruction just as a Cross carries the weight of all actions in the name of Christianity. This representation powers the symbols, giving them new avenues of meaning, while depowering the carrier. The carrier becomes all symbols, not resistance. That is to say: in this picture, the boy’s patches provide him, certainly, with an association; yet, it is hardly that simple. His patches become his downfall simply because they arrive before he does, and his flag begins to speak for him; in one sense this automatically aligns him with masses of ideological foundation, but for the most part it destroys his resistance before it can even happen, because as soon as a costume is worn one becomes a member of a central power system, in this case: punk.

In this regard, punk is suspended in symbolism that is all performative. New ideas just become new avenues for performance, or the simulation of resistance in the name of the talisman. As crusaders donned the cross, punks don the black flag logo in the name of their lord.

In example, one could claim: the fashion system of skinheads, or “hardcore” punks suffers the contradiction of its performances. Being self-proclaimed as “resistive” or “marginal,” this group welcomes the grit of its reception: that is, typically, fear, misunderstanding, and association with National Front, Neo-Nazis. That being said, one could claim that this fashion system revolves around the performance of race (i.e. the shaved head showing and thus performing the white skin). Thus, the skinheads, or hardcore punks become a subculture of pure definition and performance; just like any other sect of punk, there is nothing beyond this skin. Yet they do show a very interesting dichotomy in the philosophy of resistance, their relentless homogeny could reveal two things: 1) that resistance is unstoppable in massive numbers of like-minded revolutionaries, such as a working class rebellion, or 2) that homogeny is the enemy of resistance, since it only makes Discourse easier; there is no easier sub-culture to create discourse about than skinhead punks.

So thus, the question of resistance: is the individual easier to conquer than the masses? Is power in unification, or in a collection of individualists? The, answer (if it even exists) is unclear. There are only studies, and analyses which could bring us closer to this answer.

“No One is United, All Things are Untied:” Power In Pieces

There is a natural tendency in punk to be divisive — it is the nature of a movement so hell-bent on defining itself. A large divide exists within “cliques” of punk, all of which are purely associative, performative, and materialistic (at this point in the analysis: assume everything is material). One clique may deem another “fake” or “preppy.” “You like Black flag? You’re an A.B.C. punk!” And there’s the tag words: “Hippie-punks,” “Jock-punks,” “Skinheads,” “Hipster-punks,” etc. etc.

For a resistance, punk appears exclusive. There is no room for error; every move is fatal. Death, social suicide — the A.B.C. punk’s Dead Kennedy’s shirt may as well be seppuku. And what comes of this? Exclusivity exists within a system when performance is key and skill is required: see sports, art, writing, schooling, ballet, punk. It is virtually impossible for a resistance to be resistant when it is so incredibly exclusive; there is simply no room for growth without dissolution and cooptation: i.e. today — today cooptation exists because of exclusivity, and thus performance. What came first, the performance or the egg-head?

Yet punk couldn’t function as a broad culture, either, for a too many distinct individuals cannot create change without uniting against a common “enemy” or threat. In punk, this is mostly oriented towards systems of power “the government” or “capitalism” while exhibiting a favorable position towards anarchy and libertarianism — all the while failing to see the internal power structures governing the resistance. The lining of punk resistance is a negation of individuality and a requirement of performance. Without the exclusion of non-punk cultures, it would have nothing to define itself — nothing to perform. In this, however, is the inability to create unifying resistance, without requiring hegemony.

A hundred skinheads or a hundred jock punks, each is easy to identify and thus defang; yet, a hundred distinct individuals is harder to defang, for a power system must conquer each individually in order to conquer them all. Yet it could be said that the moment punk was experienced is the moment it died. The bliss of resistance (au Barthes) is in the masturbation — not the orgasm. Punk, simply put, is the orgasm. When a system is imposed on resistance, it becomes instantly ideological and co-opted. Resistance is unspeakable: it dies in its utterance: the orgasm is its death. Punk, then, could never effective — the system creates a division, a performance, which is only self referential and simulative. There is no movement in punk, no elbow room. And when some room is made, it is only classified, ordered, and completed. In order for a resistance to break the skin, and cut, it cannot stop: there mustn’t be a conclusion. Punk is friction for the sake of friction.

Conclusion

This raises the question, how does one create change in a world when even the most gritty, marginal groups like punk are subjects and sources of power? While punk may be an attempt at resistance, it is the definition of the self that it becomes a performance. This performative, purely materialistic jump at being resistive not only co-opts it, but also forces it into more dire straights, per se, as it becomes a series of signifier relationships completely out of reality, simulating itself — becoming in its own right a truth. This concept was explored through an analysis of patches in the following section on the simulation of resistance. There is no preferable method of resistance (unified or not), but rather an underlying power system in punk — a power seeking to only divide what is considered “punk” from what is not. In this effort to connect the “punk-peoples” per se, the movement only cuts itself up into dissolved fragments.

From all this, punk appears to be only a simulation of some resistance, surviving only through the performance of itself — Latin is an unspoken language, it is considered dead; if punk became an unspoken language, it would be dead as well. It is required on the part of the bodies, the material existence of punk to keep it alive. That is why punk is so paralyzed: it is a system composed completely of the requirement to perform punk actions to be included. Without the fashion, the music, the gauze, punk dies completely. No, punk is not dead, just as much as Darby Crash is not dead; both exist only in the concept of their existences, one could argue: Punk never existed.

Yet even through all of its failures, punk has still emerged as an amazingly accessible medium for all varieties of art — from the Stooges’s rawness to Essential Logic’s massive, jazzy variety, punk has created some of the most diverse and creative music and music ever seen in history. And artists like Raymond Pettibon made punk into a creative art movement still worthy of fear for those with delicate sensibilities.

So is “punk” the right word to apply to all this? Punk dies in the utterance of its name, and the performance of it’s form, so can there be any sanctuary for punk? Can it save itself, or be reborn? The time has come and passed for what we consider punk; it is time for a new forward motion — being nostalgic of punk’s heyday is comparable to nostalgia for the “good old days” — it does not do anything except keep creativity in standstill. Resistance is not a permanence, it is Transgressive, it comes and goes freely; to hold on to some idea of a punk resistance is to hold on, perhaps, to the idea of a proletarian revolution, or a Puritan revival. These things to do not last, and by holding onto them, they become dialectically mutilated by new movements, new philosophies — as if it would work to be a Fundamentalist and a Sartrean all at once.

To avoid the mistakes of punk, it must be clearly understood that death of a movement can happen at a moment’s notice, co-optation happens no matter what. It is virtually unavoidable. Thus, perhaps it would work to claim no essences. While this is debatable (i.e. only movement can happen in union), by claiming no essences there is nothing to lose — nothing to co-opt or create discourse over. Yet, the unessential movement is hardly classified a movement as much as it is a change of heart; which, perhaps, could be the answer to this dialectical co-optation every resistance fights with. There are surely no other answers — but perhaps that what punk is — the lack of answers. In an uptight, cautious world, punk didn't last long before coming round and being uptight itself. It did, however, cause a stir, a ripple — as if to say: “something’s happening here, but I’m not sure what.” And perhaps this is what stage punk should have remained at, to save itself from, well, itself. Instead of hanging around, waiting to catch some break, and becoming a nuisance — punk should have happened in a flash, before it was named, but without an end. Perhaps it should have just been an explosion — like an A-Bomb, quick, horrible, painful, and lingering in the shadows like a cancer, waiting to choke out life at a moment’s notice.