"In fear of death, in fear of rot"

It is said that the Prophet told his followers to die before they die. Are we in need of an existential euthanasia? In demanding this the act of Islam, the spiritual submission as understood in the worldly horizon evades the totality of it's temporal revelation. Sharia, the transmitted conditions of transcendental return is mortal after all, it's rulings are constrained by the metaphysical composition of Dunya (what need would we have for return if the oppositions between departure and arrival no longer convey any ontological resonance), but as we consciously die as the Prophet suggested, we project onto a certain possibility which is of course paradoxically avoided in the condition of intentional undeath. Life in death, "حي فل موت". To die intentionally then, is it not a suicide or do the inter-sensory components of the imaginal hierarchy, the shadowy presencing of which we merely mirror as fickled ambivalence assume the determinant of our own martyrdom? And thus, do we avoid the ultimate hubris in appropriating the original function in commanding for ourselves the collapsing of the infinite horizon, through nothing but our own will? 

Is there nothing then, more terrifying in death? The rejuvenation towards the unveiling of the sub-conceit of an established revelation? Surely as Bram Stoker's Dracula would have it, there are far worse things in this world than death? Indeed how can fear what is not only the only certain possibility, but a desired archetypal condition. We have already inverted the projected fatal occurrence into the very condition of our fixation towards it. To fear this condition would only indicate a certain ethereal homelessness, having being hurled into the world and picked up oneself in horrified awareness of recycled time echoing behind him, and urging him onwards off a quickly approaching precipice. Treatment would require a determined yet effortless reorientation towards the finite, or the sacred life that lies on it's threshold. Is it this unknowable condition in the post-Dunya that resolutely defies the subjugation of human reasoning that deserves fearing?         

How can fear, however the ultimate reconciliatory process between initiation and releasement, aesthetic degeneration and horrific rejuvenation, word as idolic injunction and unhindered desire in a violently sanctioned commitment to the nobility of the un-self. The last principle, perhaps. The horizontal blade of the impetuous feminine royalty, refinement in the wilful erasing of boundaries, into sanctified butchery, imposing momentary inter-sensory clarity in gleeful blinding's. The blade raised vertical and inherited among the purified self-obliterated. The vigilant slave, their kohled eyes mirroring their mastery over the inter-perceptuary, the splendid symmetry of their physical form complementing the blade inherited. Unquestionably masculine in virtue though bound and worshiped through the royal birth-giver. This is the nature of the double tipped sword. It is perhaps truly impossible to rationalise the outwardly destination but not entirely in vain to glimpse in the duality of the sacred form. 

We are of course referring here to beauty. Beauty as the symbolic register of the articulation of truth, it's presence in the sensory realm. It is, not however an imitation by whose very nature is incapable of authentic admiration but a bridge unto which we gaze onto the other side and acknowledge the projected possibilities that lay beyond. Beauty is rarely a given though, but a mutilatory ideal. It's conditions must be carved through our moral and sensible boundaries. The void of the sacred light which saturates from within our exclusionary edifices are not, however fear inducing in the sense that we wish to consider here but more momentarily displacing.       

The only condition worthy of fear then should be rot. A Thrownness but not in this world but the after. In the jaded torment, the infinite tearing onto all of ones possibilities there is simply no connection to the past, nor is there a present in which to feel frustrated. One is frantically holding against the shattered threshold. Grounding Is and the conditions unto which one orients his existence in an unfathomable vacuum of anti-Is. Terrifyingly perform useless tricks to pass into an opening, only to be left dejected, confronted by ghosts of performers to which art he may recognise but that he may never see as anything other than an unrepentant elimination.                          
     

Dracula as an Islamicate other?

 

Now that I have your attention, I must apologise for that ruse of a title and admit I have no intention in bringing forth evidence for the reconsidering of Bram Stoker's dark prince of Wallachia as Islamic in any tangible sense. That being said, I wish to have the reader consider the character, Dracula as a sort of personality paradox, navigating the boundaries of life and death through the embodying of largely protestant eschatological manifestations of good and evil. Of course there is no denying that Dracula is portrayed as an undead monster, conditionally devoid of redemptive features (which is a part of his tragic existence), and utterly averse to sanctification. While it's credible to consider the tragedy of the character, Dracula doesn't exhibit any semblance of heroism. But why then has the character not only been based on an existing historical figure, and a reputably brave warrior at that but also one of an undeniably Christian inclination? It is through the paradigm of the savage noble which I'd like to interpret the Count, both as the Eastern European Christian other (in the sense that Gothic fiction utilised Catholic aesthetics to stress the maliciousness of the Church) and the Undead anti-Christian, exhibiting many 19th century Western conceptions of Islam.          

 

Some of the characteristics embodied by Bram Stoker's villainous noble  seem (perhaps coincidentally) to be an amalgamation of western conceptions of the noble savage, particularly of the Islamic variety. In life, he is a Prince of Wallachia and member of the Order of the Dragon, a lone bastion of Christendom in the face of what was at the time a seemingly invincible Ottoman Empire. In unlife, he has ...by his very pneumatological condition, rejected Christianity. The character can't tolerate Christian iconography and symbolism, and in later manifestations is outwardly hostile to the faith. Although Stoker left his theological affiliation unaccounted for in undeath, it is stated he acheived vampirism in his study of the black arts, which interestingly enough is a recurring theme in attaining unatural immortality in Islamic mythology. It's not a stretch to imagine that Stoker was familiar with the story of Sidi Nouman, where Amine, the surreally beautiful wife of Nouman draws suspicion from her new husband upon taking notice of her lack of appetite. She is later discovered feeding on bodies in a nearby grave surrounded by ghoulish monsters (contradicting various claims that ghouls are essentially the Arab folkloric variant of the vampire mythos) to which she is confronted and seemingly killed only to return the next night at the foot of a terrified Nouman's bed, displaying inhuman feats of strength. Upon meeting her final death it is explained that Amine had in fact been a student of sorcery in life which no doubt inhibited her transition to the hereafter. 

 

It is also indicative that Stoker's choice of undead company had to take such a sexualised and perhaps even incestuous form. Although the relationship between Dracula and his brides is never explicit (interpretations vary from his sisters, spouses or sexual partners), their transgressive position within Dracula's household is somewhat disruptive to the 19th century western imagination, harkening to already existing obsessions with the sexually perceived courtly life of the Ottoman sultans. The wives are rarely seen outside the Count's embattlements (save for those unfortunate enough to wonder into Transylvania) but exercise an invisible influence which remains impenetrable and even threatening (inciting both fear and arousal) from the reader. It is in this sense I wish to direct the readers attention to Heidegger's notion of Alethia and the potential of it's applicability both in the sexualised brides and the ontological dimensions of Dracula himself. Alethia, being Heidegger's term in explaining the limits of disclosure. An example of which is light, that in it's revelation retreats and is absent. Being as a whole is impossible to consider as a total presence or absence but is at once both in that those which do not appear, or are present must be thought of as absences. Therefore, it isn't merely the sexual vulgarity which is threatening to the male-western reader but the concealment hidden within unconcealment, to which sexual mediation is reduced to a minimum. Dracula also characteristically preys of Christian women, choosing even to relocate to London to emphasis the transgressive danger posed by the noble stranger. The dichotomy between gentleman and monster, Christian and heathen, reserved and predatory condition of Dracula's character, when examined through a Heideggerian lens is truly frightening, for the reflection is not merely that of the noble savage but the noble-savage existence at the heart of being as a whole.

 

There are other comparisons to be made. In Tod Browning's adaption, there is of course the famous scene in which Dracula recoils in disgust at the sight of Mr Harker's crucifix. What is interesting about that portrayal is the reference to the first chapter of the novel, when Harker explains his acquisition of the item from a women upon hearing of his journey to the Count's estate. Harker recalls his protestant upbringing in explaining his distaste for wearing crucifix's. Political collaboration between protestant England and the Ottoman Empire following the reformation was often reinforced with appeals to the similarities between Sunni Islam and the protestant faith in general. Harker's theological objections to the crucifix were echoes of Dracula's conditional inability to come into contact with one. Could this have been an articulation of the nervousness of the English gentleman into his rare encounters with the noble other? Perhaps we're reading into this too deeply. Let us leave Dracula and the orientalised ottoman in peace, let them retreat to their respective courts to brood over their domains while enjoying a glass of......I almost forget......"They never drink........wine".