Converse Chuck II, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism

In his magnum opus Postmodernism, or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism (1991), Fredric Jameson frequently laments the abject position of both the Marxist theorist and the revolutionary artist in Postmodern/Neoliberal/Globalized/Post-Fordist culture. Unlike his German progenitors (Adorno, Brecht, Benjamin, etc..) who upheld Modernist aesthetic practices as the only antidote to or way out of the all-encompassing superstructural adaptations of the culture industry, Jameson describes a period in which previously revolutionary/avant-garde gestures and styles have become assimilated into institutional practices and have thus been evacuated of any potential political valance. These styles, in turn, now constitute an aura-less archive which contemporary artists cite as debased pastiche; in other words, as Jameson famously states, "Modernist styles" (the idiosyncratic brushstroke that indexes a transcendent subject) have now become "postmodernist codes" (the decontextualized ironic deployment of previously oppositional strategies).

Since this pronouncement (which, it should be remembered, came during the rise of finance capitalism and the emergence of China as a new capitalist power), Jameson's positions, especially his critique of pastiche as a-historical and a-political, have come under fire from a myriad of critics. But however potent these critiques remain (particularly Linda Hutcheon's in The Politics of Postmodernism), Jameson's original thesis continues to inform many of the most significant voices of post-Marxism Left who have attempted to theorize the relationship between contemporary economic/social transformations and their aesthetic expressions.

Two accounts I have found particularly stimulating are Jeffrey Nealon's Post-Postmodernism (2012) and Mark Fisher's Capitalism Realism (2009). Like Jameson, Nealon and Fisher are of course interested in the same topics of assimilation, the cultures of finance capitalism, and the ideological apparatuses that foreclose even the unconscious disavowal of capitalism. What I find most interesting in their accounts, however, is their convergence on topic with which I know y'all are constantly engaged: Classic Rock.

To summarize, according to Nealon, classic rock has undergone a process of assimilation that is comparable to Modern art in Jameson's analysis, but which, according to him, evinces a much more intense, accelerated cultural transformation. Not only has Classic Rock's oppositional potential been totally neutralized, but it has now also come to stand for a right-wing/neoliberal position that would have been antithetical to its role in its original context. To quote Nealon:

"On this line of reasoning, the prescription for classic rock’s cultural longevity is then relatively easy to reconstruct: drain the leftist political stances and the druggy danger out of rock music, and conveniently forget or downplay rock’s roots in African American culture, and there you have it—not exactly the “durable Republican majority” that Karl Rove had openly dreamed about, but something parallel" (55).

"In other words, classic rock at this juncture functions in popular culture as little more than an endless incitement to become who you want to be, being your own person, not following everyone else, and all the other stuff that cultural subversives like Miss America contestants and former sports stars talk about in their Sunday prayer breakfast speeches" (55).

"Drained" of its original political context among student demonstrations, the New Left, experimental lifestyles, drug use, and sexual "freedom," classic rock has now become an expression of the fundamental tenets of finance capitalism and global consumer culture: total, deterritorialized freedom to invest and consume. The biggest irony that I notice about this transformation is that while a protest song in the 60s might have claimed its target as the oppressive social policies that facilitated America's aggressive neoliberal interventions abroad (in southeast Asia or Latin America for example), those very same songs are now being used to promote the policies that they used to condemn (think about Trump's use of "Keep on Rockin' in the Free World").

While I'm yet to finish Capitalist Realism, Fisher's argument seems intimately related to Nealon's. Like Nealon, Fisher wants to suggest that the cultural logic of late capitalism of the late 90s and 00s has not only confirmed Jameson's original thesis, but has indeed surpassed his observations. For this claim, Fisher also cites Rock music:

"What we are dealing with now is not the incorporation of materials that previously seemed to possess subversive potentials, but instead, their precorporation: the pre-emptive formatting and shaping of desires, aspirations and hopes by capitalist culture. Witness, for instance, the establishment of settled ‘alternative’ or ‘independent’ cultural zones, which endlessly repeat older gestures of rebellion and contestation as if for the first time. ‘Alternative’ and ‘independent’ don’t designate something outside mainstream culture; rather, they are styles, in fact the dominant styles, within the mainstream. No-one embodied (and struggled with) this deadlock more than Kurt Cobain and Nirvana..." (9)

While Nealon argued that Classic Rock evinced the cultural process of  assimilation-with-inversion, here Fisher claims that the culture industry now has been able to formulate and sell oppositional tactics before they even go through the process of political transformation.

But what does this all have to do with footwear? Cruising twitter last week, an ad popped up heralding the new "Chuck II" sneaker from Converse. The ad, which suggests a radical reformulation of the enduring basketball sneaker appears as the following:

Of course, it's no novel observation (more of a cliche by now actually) that Converse Chuck Taylors have long been intimately associated not with athletics, but musicians, particularly those positioning themselves against the perceived utilitarian normativity proffered by American culture at large. From Frank Zappa, to Kurt Cobain, to the Ramones, to Jim O'Rourke, the ironic (usually black) shoe has been adopted and re-contextualized, and for a long time remained a instantly-recognized sign which suggested a certain durable cultural mythology of the rock n roller. 

What is interesting about the shoe's latest iteration in the "Chuck II," however, is its apparent refutation of this whole previous mythology. While the original Chuck Taylor, its obstinate minimalism, suggested a monetary, physiological, and stylistic equivalence (solidarity?) between those who wore it, the new shoe suggest specialization, comfort, athleticism, and health, namely, many of the qualities that its previous customers would have repudiated. In light of my initial discussion of Jameson, Nealon, and Fisher, I want to claim that the newest iteration of the Chuck Taylor is a product of precisely the new attitude towards Rock mentioned by these critics. 

This conclusion seems to suggest itself from a number of angles. First, in relation to Jameson's initial logic, its clear that rather than embodying a particular aura of originality, the new Chucks offer only a virtual, mediated experience to its original historical referent. While when buying the "original" Chucks there was still a faint feeling that you were "in the shoes" of Dee Dee Ramone, that hope has now been vanquished as a "foam-padded collar," "non-slip gusseted tongue," "perforated micro suede liner," and "Nike Lunarlon sockliner" have invade and displaced the ethos of originality.

Secondly, and more importantly, this new sneaker shows a shocking avowal for the health culture that has been dominant for the past 20 years, which, as Foucault might suggest, is itself an expression of the need for the corporate state to produce disciplined, docile, and productive bodies. While the original Chucks were often cherished as literal canvases that recorded one's experiences (Miller Lite spills, cigarette ash, discarded roach bits), this sleek new thang seems to be instead suggest a gym membership and a bottle of coconut water; while the shoe used to be associated with a particular transgressive regime of substances, the Chuck II is instead suggestive of the modern clinical and pharmaceutical market, with its weight loss pills, dietary supplements, protein shakes, skin toners, hand lotions, and body sprays, all of which exist to tame and control natural bodily processes.

In closing, the question quickly arises to what alternatives are available, or whether or not thinking oppositionally is still even an option. Taking le Chuck as an example, we might ask with equal parts innocence and facetiousness, what becomes the radical footwear of choice? Doc Martens? They've been absorbed by the sororities! Chacos? Christian hippies! The suggestion that lingers in the background, although I cringe at its presence, is the norm core or accelerationist strategy of just wearing those brands (Nike being the prime example) that are most complicit with capitalism and taking some sort of ironic performative attitude towards them. The problem with this, however is the epistemological deadlock that it suggsets: are you wearing Jordans ironically or do you adopt an attitude of irony just to make wearing Jordans and participating in global capitalism palatable. Alternatively, even going barefoot, in its apparent disavowal of these trends, is itself informed by a green logic of the return to a prelapsarian symbiosis with nature. Duct tape shoes maybe? Idk, I guess we're fucked...