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Abstract In the aim of promoting greater legitimation for popular art, this
paper critically examines the major philosophical arguments against the aesthetic legitimacy of such art. The paper's position is one of meliorism, which
recognizes popular art's flaws and abuses but also its merits and potential. The
meliorist position holds that popular art should be improved because it leaves
much to be desired, but also that it can be improved because it can and often
does achieve real aesthetic merit. (Meliorism insists, moreover, that if popular
art is dismissed as altogether undeserving of aesthetic attention, its aesthetic
quality will suffer further, since its assessment will be abandoned completely
to market forces.) In making its case for meliorism, the paper refutes the
major arguments for holding that popular art cannot help but be aesthetically
worthless, and it concentrates on the following so-called intrinsic defects of
popular art: spuriousness, passivity, superficiality, and lack of creativity.
1
Popular art has not been popular with philosophers and theorists of
culture, at least not in their professional moments. Repeatedly villified
as mindless, tasteless trash, devoid of any worthwhile form or content,
it is still more viciously denounced as an addictive and stupefying narcotic of escape which manipulates its audience from purely mercenary
motives and undermines critical and creative thought by affirming its
own standardized illusions and false satisfactions.
This denigration of popular art, or mass culture (the debate over
PoeticsToday14:1 (Spring 1993). Copyright ? 1993 by The Porter Institute for
Poetics and Semiotics. CCC 0333-5372/93/$2.50.
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Shusterman * PopularArt
103
and Marxian critics of popular culture repeatedly bemoan our contemporary societal and personal fragmentation (blaming it on such
forces as modernization, industrialization, secularization, capitalism),
the rigid line of legitimacy they draw between high and popular culture both reinscribes and reinforces those same painful divisions in
society and, still more deeply, in ourselves. Similarly, while the delegitimating critique of popular art is typically pursued under the banner
of safeguarding our aesthetic satisfaction, it actually represents a form
of ascetic renunciation, one of the many forms that intellectuals since
Plato have employed to subordinate the unruly power and sensual appeal of the aesthetic. For such reasons, even if the defense of popular
art can hardly effect or even directly contribute to the sociocultural
liberation of the dominated masses who consume this culture, it can
at least help to liberate those dominated parts of ourselves which are
similarly oppressed by the exclusive claims of high culture.
To defend the aesthetic legitimacy of popular art, I shall be challenging the major indictments and arguments made against it. In challenging them, I am not attempting a full-scale aesthetic whitewash of
popular art. Nor am I assuming that an aesthetic defense is the only
defense that popular art requires. I admit that the products of popular
art are often aesthetically wretched, just as I recognize that their social
effects can be very noxious, particularly when they are consumed in a
passive, all-accepting way.2What I shall contest are the philosophical
arguments that popular art is always and necessarily an aesthetic failure, inferior and inadequate by its intrinsic constitution, that (in the
words of Dwight Macdonald) "there are theoretical reasons why Mass
Culture is not and can never be any good" (Macdonald 1957: 60).
In the debate over popular art, my defense needs to be located between the poles of condemnatory pessimism (characteristic of reactionary high-culture elitists, but also of the Marxian Frankfurt school and
their present-day disciples) and celebratory optimism (exemplified by
the Popular Culture Association
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Perhaps the most basic aesthetic complaint against popular art is that
it simply fails to provide any real aesthetic satisfaction at all. Of course,
even the most hostile critics know that movies entertain millions and
that rock music makes audiences dance and throb with pleasure. But
such obvious and discomforting facts are neatly sidestepped by denying that these satisfactions are authentic. The apparent gratifications,
sensations, and experiences that popular art provides are dismissed as
spurious and fraudulent, while high art, in contrast, is held to supply
something genuine.
Leo Lowenthal, for example, sees "the differences between popular culture and high art" in terms of the difference "between spurious gratification and genuine experience" (Lowenthal 1957: 51), and
Clement Greenberg likewise condemns the popular arts (which he
collectively and pejoratively labels "kitsch") for supplying only "vicarious experience and faked sensations" (Greenberg 1957: 102). T. W.
Adorno (1978: 202), who similarly inveighs against the "washed-out"
and "fake" satisfactions of popular art, explains that it is only "because
Shusterman * PopularArt
105
the masses are denied real enjoyment [that] they, out of resentment,
enjoy the substitutes that come their way . . . [through] low art and
entertainment" (Adorno 1984: 340). Moreover, critics like Bernard
Rosenberg and Ernest van den Haag further insist that the pseudopleasures and "substitute gratifications" of "the entertainment industry" prevent us from achieving "any really satisfying experience" because the "diversion" they provide "distracts [us] from life and real
gratification" (Rosenberg 1957: 9; Van den Haag 1957: 533-34).
In its various but repetitive formulations, the charge of spuriousness has become so familiar that one might overlook the self-betraying
exaggeration of its scope. But scrutiny of these citations will reveal
that the anxious zeal to strip popular art of anything positive, like
pleasure, has led its critics not merely to deny that its experiences and
enjoyments are aestheticallygenuine, but more radically to deny that
they are real or genuine at all. In short, the charge of spuriousness,
a strategy of imperious intellectualist presumption, implies that the
cultural elite not only have the power to determine, against popular
judgment, the limits of aesthetic legitimacy, but also the power to legislate, against empirical evidence, what can be called real experience
or pleasure. Yet how can such a radical claim be substantiated? It in
fact never is, but instead is sustained by the authority of its proponents and the virtual absence of opposition. Quite understandably, it
faces no strong challenge either from intellectuals, whom it flatters, or
from nonintellectuals, who, lacking the strength or interest to contest
it, typically just ignore it as "abstract bullshit" which has no practical
effect on their world.
What in fact is meant in asserting that "the gratifications of popular
culture are spurious" (Van den Haag 1957: 531), and what arguments
serve to support this claim? Is it anything more than a rhetorical gesture of denying the legitimacy and value of these gratifications by
challenging their reality? Perhaps the most straightforward interpretation and justification of the charge of spuriousness is that popular
art's alleged gratifications are not real because they are never deeply
felt, that they are spurious because they are merely "washed-out,"
"faked sensations." But the experience of rock music, which can be
so intensely absorbing and powerful that it is likened to spiritual possession, surely gives the lie to such a charge. Even rock's severest
critics recognize the passionately real potency and intoxicating satisfactions of its experience, just as they mourn the dire educational
consequences and the ruthlessly commercialized exploitation of this
power. Indeed their critique rings so desperately shrill and strident
precisely because they realize that rock's captivating pleasures have
essentially won the day and undermined the authority of and blind
allegiance to traditional aesthetic forms and the many traditionalist
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like "the prisoner who loves his cell because he has been left nothing else to love" (Adorno 1987: 292).4 But this same argument from
paucity of options can be turned against the "eternal" enjoyment of
Homer, which today is so negligible that it almost seems as mythical
as his gods and heroes. Indeed, it is precisely because the mass media
now provide an alternative system of dissemination and education that
the fetishized absorption in the classics inculcated by the traditional
scholastic system has been largely undermined by interest in the popular arts. Again, this is not to argue that the classics and high art no
longer deserve and reward aesthetic interest, but only to reject their
traditional monopoly on legitimate aesthetic attention.
The argument that popular art is spurious because ephemeral is
also flawed by its disregard for the fact that many classics of high art
were originally produced and consumed as popular art. Greek drama
was a very popular and raucous affair, as was the Elizabethan theatre;
and less than two centuries ago novels (often first serialized and sold
in magazines) were excoriated as corruptive commercial trash in much
the same way that movies, TV, and rock music have been condemned
in more recent times. To deny that works of popular art survive by
simply ignoring the popular origins of those that have in fact done so is
more than an innocent error. It is an exploitative expropriation of the
cultural resources of the dominated majority by a dominant elite. For
once these works have been reclassified exclusively as high art, their
mode of appropriation is redefined so that their popular appreciation
will be demeaned and discounted, thus essentially reserving them for
the more distinguished delectation of the cultural elite.
Finally, even if we concede that works of popular art are transient,
and their power to please relatively brief, this neither renders them
valueless nor makes their gratifications spurious. To assume that it
does so is to equate all pleasure and value with permanence. But there
is value in transient things, and indeed sometimes in their very transience. Brief encounters may sometimes be sweeter and better than
abiding relationships. To reject the value of the ephemeral has been
a rather permanent prejudice of our intellectual culture, and it was
perhaps a very serviceable one for past conditions where survival was
so insecure that attention and value had to be fixed on the most enduring. But it is a prejudice nonetheless which blights and blunts our
pleasures. Indeed, it even blocks a major path for constructing a more
stably satisfying life. For once ephemeral pleasures are discounted as
relatively valueless and unworthy of attention, serious thinking is not
4. The same fundamental argument of coercive conditioning is given by Dwight
Macdonald (1962: 9-10) and by Donald Lazere (1987: 31).
Shusterman * PopularArt
109
devoted to how they can be best achieved, repeated, and securely integrated into life. Consequently, such pleasures and their sometimes
explosive effect on life are dangerously left to the vagaries of chance
and blind desire or to the indoctrinating pressures of advertising.
Popular art's gratifications have been censured as spurious in yet
another sense: as mere substitutes for pleasures that are somehow
more basic or real. Adorno, who rightly protests the social conditions
which deny us pleasure in real life, "real gratification in the sphere
of immediate sense experience," complains that popular art purveys
false surrogates for such enjoyment as a form of narcotic escape. "Because the masses are denied real enjoyment, they, out of resentment,
enjoy the substitutes that come their way" (Adorno 1984: 119, 340).
Yet the pleasures of high art, as even Adorno must admit, are no less
mediated and removed from actual living, and they can also serve
escapist ends.
But just as often, the charge of surrogacy locates genuine satisfaction in the ultimate rather than the immediate, in a deferred and
consequently more complete gratification. Explicitly likening popular
art to masturbation, as merely discharging tension rather than providing real satisfaction, Van den Haag condemns it for glutting us with
energy-draining "substitute gratifications [that] incapacitate the individual for real ones" and thus prevent us from attaining any "ultimate
gratification" (Van den Haag 1957: 533, 534). In much the same style
of prurient innuendo, Allan Bloom implies the fraudulence of rock's
satisfactions by associating them with undeferred and deviant sexual
pleasure: "Rock music provides premature ecstasy" to children and
teens "as if they were ready to enjoy the final or complete satisfaction"
(Bloom 1987: 77, 80).
Certainly, deferral and resistance frequently enhance satisfaction,
but where is such "complete" and "final" satisfaction to be found?
Hardly in this world, which knows no end to desire. Real satisfaction
is instead relegated to some transcendental domain-for Bloom, the
realm of Platonistic ideals; for Adorno, a Marxian utopia; and for
Van den Haag, the Christian afterlife. The only pleasures they seem
willing to legitimate are those which we cannot attain, at least not in
this world. Even the aesthetic pleasures of high art cannot be spared
sanction. "In a false world," Adorno bitterly avows, "all hedoneis false.
This goes for aesthetic pleasure too" (Adorno 1984: 18). And Van den
Haag somberly intones the same message of abject anguish: "As for
the pleasures of this life, they are not worth pursuing" (Van den Haag
1957: 536). Thus, as suggested earlier, the critique of popular art as
providing only spurious pleasures is less a defense of real pleasure
than a mask for the wholesale denial of all worldly pleasure, a strategy
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Popular art is often condemned for not providing any aesthetic challenge. In contrast to high art, whose appreciation demands "aesthetic
work," thus stimulating aesthetic activity and a resultant aesthetic satisfaction, popular art both induces and requires a lifeless and unrewarding passivity. Its "simple and repetitive structures," says Pierre Bourdieu, only "invite a passive, absent participation" (Bourdieu 1984:
386). This effortless passivity is thought to explain not only such art's
wide appeal, but also its failure to truly satisfy. Its "effortlessness"
(Rosenberg 1957: 5) easily captivates those of us who are too weary
and beaten to seek the challenging. But since enjoyment (as Aristotle realized) is a by-product attendant upon and essentially bound to
activity, our lack of active effort ultimately translates into joyless boredom. Rather than energetically and acutely responding to the work
(as we can to high art), we lazily and languidly receive it in a passive,
listless torpor. Nor could it tolerate more vigorous scrutiny and response. Thus the audience of popular art is necessarily reduced from
active participants to "passive consumers," who must be "as passive as
possible" (Macdonald 1957: 60; Seldes 1957: 85).5
Max Horkheimer and T. W. Adorno explain how "all amusement
suffers from this incurable malady":
Pleasurehardens into boredom because,if it is to remain pleasure,it must
not demand any effort and thereforemovesrigorouslyin the worn grooves
of association.No independent thinking must be expected from the audience: the product prescribesevery reaction:not by its naturalform (which
collapses under reflection), but by signals. Any logical connection call5. Adorno(1987: 288) also arguesthat worksof popularmusic"do not permit
concentratedlisteningwithoutbecomingunbearableto the listeners."
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(i.e., intellectual) purpose. The fact that such art and its appreciation
have their roots in non-Western civilizations renders them even more
unacceptably retrograde.
For Adorno, pop music is "regressive" and aesthetically invalid because "it is a somatic stimulus" (Adorno 1984: 170); for Allan Bloom,
the problem with rock is its deep appeal to "sensuality" and "sexual
desire," which renders it "alogon.""It is not only not reasonable, it
is hostile to reason" (Bloom 1987: 71, 73). Mark Miller makes the
same mistake of inferring aesthetic illegitimacy and intellectual corruption from the mere fact of rock's more immediate sensuous appeal.
"Rock 'n' Roll music," he complains, in quoting John Lennon, "gets
right through to you without having to go through your brain"; and
this sensuous immediacy is negatively misconstrued as entailing effortless nullity and passive "immobility" so that "all rock aspires to the
condition of Muzak." In short, since rock can beenjoyed without intellectual "interpretation," it is therefore not "cerebral" enough to be
aesthetically legitimate, and its so-called "artists and listeners are antiintellectual and usually stoned." Rock's only and short-lived value was
the critical consciousness induced by its first transgressional challenge;
and in a remark which betrays the body-despising Cartesianism of
popular culture's critics, Miller laments the fact that rock's "body went
on dancing . . . [after] it had lost its soul" of original protest (Miller
1989: 175, 181).
Along with their anti-somatic animus, the arguments of Adorno,
Bloom, and Miller share two vitiating logical blunders. First, the sensuous appeal of rock does not entail anti-intellectualism (in either its
creators or its audience). Only if the sensuous were essentially incompatible with the intellect would this follow; and why should we sensuous intellects suppose this? It is only the presumption of intellectualist
exclusiveness, a powerful philosophical prejudice with a Platonic pedigree, that leads these thinkers to regard them as mutually exclusive.
The second fallacy is to infer that because rock music can be enjoyed
without hard thinking and interpretation, its enjoyment cannot therefore sustain or be enhanced by such reflective analysis. If popular art
can reward without serious intellectual effort, this does not mean that
it cannot profit by and reward such effort. If it can be enjoyed mindlessly, it does not follow that it must be so enjoyed and has nothing
else to offer.
2.3. Superficiality
We must, then, face the charge that popular art is in fact too superficial
to be intellectually satisfying. For if popular art could only engage and
satisfy the somatic and mentally jejune dimensions of human experience, its value would be seriously limited, though still, I believe, far
Shusterman * PopularArt
113
from negligible. But are there compelling reasons to think that popular art is utterly and irremediably devoid of meaningful and intellectually stimulating content? The arguments for its necessary superficiality
can be usefully analyzed in terms of two, more specific claims.
1. The first is that popular art does not and cannot deal with the
deep realities and real problems of life and therefore strives to distract us instead with an escapist dream world of pseudo-problems
and easy, cliched solutions. In contrast to high (or true) art, which
"tends to engage life at its deeper levels" and treats "the essential" in
reality, popular art "distracts from life" and "the human predicament"
(Broudy 1972: 11; Van den Haag 1957: 533, 536). Its works "distract
people from the real and most important problems of life"; they particularly "distract the masses from becoming more clearly aware of
their real needs" (James T. Farrell, in Seldes 1957: 81). Popular art,
Dwight Macdonald explains, is obliged to ignore or "void ... the deep
realities (sex, death, failure, tragedy) . . . since the realities would be
too real . .. to induce . . . [the] narcotized acceptance" that it seeks
(Macdonald 1957: 72). But this again presumes without argument that
the aim of popular art is always a drugged, quiescent stupor, while
in fact there is ample evidence to the contrary. Long before Woodstock, rock music was often a strident and potently mobilizing voice
of protest with respect to deep and topical issues; and in recent years,
through such rock concert projects as Live Aid, Farm Aid, and Human
Rights Now, it has proven itself an effective source of collaborative
social action for worthy political and humanitarian causes.
Van den Haag provides the most common argument for why reality
cannot be handled, but only eschewed, by all mass media products.
Popular art must appeal to more than a highbrow audience and so
must tailor its products to the comprehension of this wider audience.
But this, for Van den Haag and other culture snobs, means
tailoring
them too small to encompass any real issues or significant experience.
They must omit, therefore, all human experience likely to be misunderstood-all experience and expression the meaning of which is not obvious
and approved. Which is to say that the mass media cannot touch the experiences that art, philosophy, and literature deal with: relevant and significant
human experience presented in relevant and significant form. For if it is
such, it is new, doubtful, difficult, perhaps offensive, at any rate easily misunderstood....
[Hence] the mass media ... cannot touch real problems or
real solutions. (Van den Haag 1957: 516-17)
At least two fundamental fallacies invalidate this
argument. First,
there is the mistaken presumption that popular art cannot be
popular unless its form and content are completely
transparent and totally
approved. But there is no justification for this view except the equally
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false presumption that consumers of popular art are just too stupid
to understand more than the obvious and too psychologically naive to
appreciate the presentation of views with which they may ultimately
disagree. Recent studies of television drama show that the mass-media
audience can take a critical and complex attitude to the "heroes" and
views presented there,8 and the point is reinforced by the evidence of
rock enthusiasts who enjoy songs suggestive of drug-taking and violent living while in fact disapproving of such behavior. Moreover, even
assuming that its audience is indeed moronic, we still cannot conclude
that popular art's content must be fully obvious and approved in order
to please. For there remains the possibility that it may please even
when only partially understood or, indeed, misunderstood. Certainly,
the middle-class white youth who first took to rock 'n' roll had no real
understanding of the lyrics they thrilled to, many of whose words bore
hidden African-American meanings like the term "rock 'n' roll" itself,
which meant "to fuck."
Secondly, Van den Haag's argument falsely conflates the relevant
and the significant in human experience and expression with the new
and the difficult. No grounds are given for equating these clearly
distinct notions, and any such equation is refuted by the abiding significance that our more familiar experiences and traditional forms
(e.g., falling in love, kissing our children good-night, gathering for
Thanksgiving Day dinner) often have in our lives. But Van den Haag
and others make this false equation through their blind allegiance to
the high-modernist aesthetic of avant-garde originality and difficulty
which is unconsciously smuggled in as a general standard of experiential significance. Still worse, it becomes the standard of "the real"
so that the ordinary problems treated by popular art-disappointed
love, economic hardship, family conflicts, alienation, drugs, sex, and
violence-can be denied as unreal, while the "real problems" worthy
of artistic expression become only those that are novel and esoteric
enough to elude the experience and the comprehension of the general
public. This is surely a convenient strategy by which the privileged and
conservative can ignore and suppress the realities of those they dominate by denying the artistic legitimacy of their expression-a strategy
which vividly exemplifies Bourdieu's point that aesthetic conflicts are
often fundamentally "political conflicts ... for the power to impose the
dominant definition of reality, and social reality in particular" (Bourdieu 1986: 154-55). But however unattractively banal they are to the
cultural aesthete, such "unreal" problems (and the common, "unreal"
people whose lives they exhaust) constitute an important dimension
8. See, for example,
Fiske (1987).
Shusterman * PopularArt
1 15
of our world. Poverty and violence, sex and drugs, "spare parts and
broken hearts" (to quote Bruce Springsteen) "keep this world turnin'
around" (Springsteen 1987); and they have a way of reasserting their
repressed reality with a brutal vengeance, as one exits the theatre and
is hit by the street.9
2. Popular art has been condemned as superficial and empty in
another sense which makes no appeal to "deeper essential realities" or
to "real problems." Here the charge is simply that works of popular
art lack sufficient complexities, subtleties, and levels of meaning to be
in any way mentally stimulating or capable of satisfying or even "sustaining serious interest." In contrast to serious art, which "tends to be
complex" so that its "content can be perceived and understood on several levels," popular art must gain its wide popularity by dealing only
in "broad, easily recognizable images," in flat stereotypes and empty
cliches (Broudy 1972: 111; Gans 1974: 77). Hence, unable to exercise
our intelligence, such art can only (in Adorno's words) "fill empty time
with more emptiness" (Adorno 1984: 348).
Certainly, too many mass-media products are boringly simple and
painfully devoid of intelligent complexity. But culture critics wrongly
conclude that all of them must be so. Implicitly appealing to the homogenizing prejudice that "all mass culture is identical" (Horkheimer
and Adorno 1986: 121), they resolutely ignore the subtle complexities
that can in fact be found in popular artworks. Yet, as even Adorno
came to recognize, popular works often "consist of various levels of
meaning, superimposed on one another, all of which contribute to the
effect" (Adorno 1957: 479). And John Fiske's study of television narratives shows that their popularity indeed often depends on their being
multileveled, multivocal, and polysemic so that they can be simultaneously read differently by and thus appeal to a very wide "variety
of groups with different, often conflicting interests." For, as media
and marketing experts now realize, the popular TV audience is "not
a homogeneous mass" but a shifting constellation of many different
social groups who "actively read television in order to produce from
it meanings that connect with their social experience" (Fiske 1987:
84, 94).
Intellectualist critics typically fail to recognize the multilayered,
multivocal, and nuanced meanings of popular art because they are
"turned off" from the outset and are unwilling to give these works
the sympathetic attention needed to tease out such complexities. But
9. Finally, apart from these logical fallacies, Van den Haag's argument has a very
questionable empirical basis. If we look at the history of high art before its romantic and modernist phase, we do not find that experiential novelty and difficulty of
comprehension were necessary conditions of aesthetic legitimacy.
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1 17
lines of argument: first, that standardization and technological production, because they put limits on individuality, preclude real creativity;" second, that popular art's group production and division
of labor, because they involve more than one artist's decision, frustrate original expression (Macdonald 1957: 65); third, that the desire
to entertain a large audience is incompatible with individual selfexpression, hence with original aesthetic expression. All of these
arguments rest on the premise that aesthetic creation is necessarily
individualistic, a questionable romantic myth nourished by bourgeois
liberalism's ideology of individualism and one which belies art's essential communal dimension. In any case, none of these arguments is
compelling, nor will they serve to distinguish popular works from
high art.
Standardization can be found in high as well as popular art.
Both employ conventions or formulae to facilitate communication,
to achieve certain aesthetic forms and effects whose value has been
proven, and to provide a solid basis from which to develop creative
elaborations and innovations. The sonnet's length is just as rigidly
standard as the TV sitcom's, and neither limit precludes creativity.
What determines the aesthetic validity of formulae, conventions, and
generic standards is whether they are imaginatively deployed. If
popular art too often exploits them in a routine mechanical fashion,
high art has its own deadly forms of monotonous standardization,
such as academicism, where, in Clement Greenberg's words, "creative
activity dwindles" and "the same themes are mechanically varied in
a hundred different works" (Greenberg 1957: 98). As for the use
of technological inventions, it is less a barrier than an impetus to
artistic creativity (as the history of architecture clearly indicates). The
technology of popular art has helped create such new artistic forms
as the movie, the TV series, and the rock video; and this adventurous
and unpredictable creative power, so threatening to the weakening
authority of high art and its custodians, is probably what motivates
their charge that popular art is creatively impotent.
The second argument is no less problematic. We can grant no inconsistency between collective production and artistic creativity without
thereby challenging the aesthetic legitimacy of Greek temples, Gothic
cathedrals, and the works of oral literary traditions. It is undeniable
that creative artistic aims are often frustrated or corrupted by corporate pressures (perhaps most notoriously in Hollywood). But this,
11. See, for example, Bernard Rosenberg (1957: 12), who blames "modern technology" as "the necessary and sufficient cause of mass culture" and its cultural
barbarism. Leo Lowenthal (1957: 55) similarly cites "the decline of the individual
in the mechanized working process" of modern technological society.
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120
native intertextual meanings that neither the general public nor the
highbrow aesthete can easily fathom.
Popular artists are also consumers of popular art and form part of
its audience. Often they share the tastes of those toward whom their
work is directed. Here there can be no real conflict between wanting
to express oneself creatively and wanting to please one's large audience. Falsely assuming the necessity of such a conflict is the second
error of the third argument. It stems from the romantic myth of individual genius, which insisted that isolation from society and contempt
for its common values were crucial to artistic integrity and vision. The
historical and socioeconomic pressures which fostered this myth are
now widely acknowledged, the artists having been cut off from their
traditional forms of societal patronage and thus made uncertain of
both their role and their audience in the rapidly changing society of
the nineteenth century. Few today would give it credence, and even
seemingly elitist artists like T. S. Eliot have explicitly denied it by asserting the necessary connection of the artist to her community and by
expressing the wish to reach as large a portion of that community as
possible. "I believe that the poet naturally prefers to write for as large
and miscellaneous an audience as possible.... I myself should like an
audience which could neither read nor write" (Eliot 1964: 152-53).
Finally, the argument that popular art's popularity requires slavish conformity to accepted stereotypes rests on the premise that its
consumers are too simpleminded to appreciate the presentation of
views they do not accept. But, as already noted, empirical evidence of
media consumption shows this to be false; media viewers are not (in
Stuart Hall's [1982] phrase) the "cultural dopes" that intellectual highbrows take them to be. The whole idea that the popular art audience
is psychologically too naive and one-dimensional to entertain and be
entertained by conflicting ideas and ambiguity of values is clearly refuted by the baffling experience of postmodern living, where everyday
coping frequently requires not only the entertaining but the simultaneous inhabiting of contradictory roles and conflicting language
games. No longer an elite aesthetic luxury, multiplicity of attitude and
the vacillating suspension of both belief and disbelief are a necessity
of life. For in what can we still commit full faith and total investment without self-deception or irony? "Don't believe the hype," Public
Enemy (1988) reminds us. Certainly not the hypercritical arguments
for why popular art must be aesthetically worthless and corruptive.
References
Adorno, T. W.
1957 "Television and the Patterns of Mass Culture," in Mass Culture: The Popular Arts in America, edited by Bernard Rosenberg and David White, 474-88
(Glencoe, IL: Free Press).
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