The entire history of western civilization can be read as a systematic attempt to exclude and isolate the body. From Plato on, the body has been seen at various times as a folly to control, an impulse to repress, labor power to arrange, or and unconsciousness to psychoanalyze.
The platonic separation between the body and the mind, a separation carried out to the complete advantage of the latter (“the body is the tomb of mind”), even accompanies the seemingly most radical expression of thought.
Due to a battle-trained Christian heritage, we are led to believe that domination controls and expropriates a part of the human being without damaging her inner being (and there is much that could be said about the decision between a presumed inner being and external relationships). Of course capitalist relationships and state impositions adulterate and pollute life, but we think that our perceptions of ourselves and of the world remain unaltered. So even when we imagine a radical break with the existent, we are sure that it is our body as we presently think of it that will act on this.
Instead our body has suffered and continues to suffer a terrible mutilation. And this is not only due to the obvious aspects of control and alienation determined by technology. The food we eat, the air we breathe, and our daily relations, have atrophied our senses. The senselessness of work, forced sociality, and the dreadful materiality of chit-chat regiment both mind and body, since no separation is possible between them.
The docile observance of the law—the imprisoning channels into which desires, which such captivity really transforms into sad ghosts of themselves, are enclosed—weakens the organisms just as much as pollution or forced medication.
Morality, as Nietzsche puts it, is exhaustion. To affirm one’s own life, the exuberance that demands to be given, entails a transformation of senses no less than of ideas and relationships.
When you are projecting your life and test yourself in possible revolt with someone, you see in your playmates, beautiful individuals, and not the sad faces and bodies that extinguish their light in habit and coercion. They become beautiful in the moment in which they express their desires and live their ideas.
The ethical resoluteness of one who abandons and attacks the power structures is a perception, a moment in which one tastes the beauty of rebellion and the misery of obligation and submission. No ethical dimension except in revolt, in risk, in the dream
The individual in revolt is a restless place between the night and the light, between construction and creation, between blue balls and orgasm. And more. The light itself is darkness. And that is all there is. The survival in which we are confined brutalizes and uglifies.