On the four track Future Days, embedded amongst three giant sprawling liquid psychedelic sound sculptures, is this little gem, CAN’s only real ‘hit single’.
As usual, Jaki Leibezeit grooves like a mother. How any drummer can make such a simple part so difficult to emulate is astonishing. It’s all in the feel. Truly awesome.
CAN’s fourth album, a complete meisterwerk!
Holger Czukay shows that less really CAN be more, and Michael Karoli supplies one of his best rhythm guitar parts; melodic, funky, and fairly unique in the CAN canon. Irvin Schmidt’s keys pepper the piece with perfect piquancy, and there’s a solo – a music concrete solo, no less – that is an absolute masterpiece.
And this track got them on ze German hit parade! Crazy times, eh!? Can you imagine this charting anywhere in the world now? Only in the private top-tens of the cognoscenti!
Ouch!!! Red in tooth and claw, Mother Nature in the raw…
Our beloved pussy cat, Chester, attacked me savagely yesterday. Only now, the following day, am I really starting to get over the shock and process it.
I had to go to the local minor injuries hospital unit, for a tetanus jab, a script for some penicillin, and to have the wounds checked, cleaned, etc. The worst of the three areas of wounds – all claw scratches except for this one – was a big and deep bite to my fright fore-arm.
Chester hasn’t been neutered yet, and the vets reckon it might be due to him getting frisky, picking up the scent of local lady felines, and then objecting strenuously to me taking him back indoors. He’s been caterwauling aplenty recently. Even hissing a bit when picked up to be taken back home.
Left hand; lesser lacerations!
But his all out frenzied attack yesterday was a proper shock!
I didn’t get any pics of the profuse effusion of blood. Kind of wish I had. As all that remains now are rather pathetically inconsequential looking plasters. But I’m told not to be complacent, as infections from cat bites can be nasty!
I’ve had cats around most of my life. The better part of my now half-century. Never had an experience even close to this before. Bit of a shock to the system!
The restaurant scene from Brazil superbly captures the gulf between products as advertised and as actually delivered.
This isn’t my first post on this topic. I doubt it’ll be my last. Why return to such a theme? This time it was prompted by a silly FB post by a friend about which David Bowie number, of four he specified, ‘would you rather’… etc.
Pointless silliness, perhaps? Well, yes. I.e. totally suited to and at home on FB. As, indeed, is the constant harassment of advertising. But it so happened that the most popular choice was Heroes. Admittedly an excellent song. But, for me at least, tarnished by its heavy usage in adverts.
I also recall the pride with which several drummers on a FB drummer’s forum related that they had been in that recent ad’ for a gambling sports sponsor that features hordes of drummers. I’m glad to say I can’t recall exactly which such parasitic body it was.
I’d love the exposure that might bring (well, perhaps for a few of the more ‘featured’ of the many hundreds of otherwise anonymous players). And I’m sure the nuts and bolts of actually filming it might also be fun. Did all these drummers get get paid, I wonder?
But what about taking a principled stand against the cancerous blight on our society that is gambling? Or even advertising as a whole? Or, better still, advertising as a hole… specifically, an arsehole’!
Talkin’ ass: the allure of the ad’ (Renault Megane).The anti-climax super-unsexy reality!
That’s r-r-r-r-right f-f-f-f-folks, I’m talkin’ ass! Now I felt this way long before I saw Bill Hicks do his anti-advertising schtick. Indeed, a loathing for advertising – and a contempt for gambling – was something I learned at home, mostly (I believe?) from my father.
But in order to keep things relatively short and ‘sweet’ here and now, let’s wrap this up with a short consideration of ‘the asshole in contemporary culture’ (sounds like a topic on a college degree syllabus!).
It turns out that some of the ugliest ideas of the worst types of racists and those dearest to many a ruling elite converge, for differing reasons, around a certain nexus of ideas. As mentioned above, I don’t intend to go into great detail on the subject(s) here. Perhaps another time?
What I will say is that there’s a culture of brashly aggressive ugliness, massively on the increase, from the politics of Trump, to the shouted egotism in rap, or the gurgling screams of extreme metal. It’s also manifest in the strident upbeat chirpiness, and even – I contend – the zombie-smiling lockstep of Nuremberg-rally style formation dancing.
The massive and very visible rise of the latter, especially obvious in advertising, had me baffled for a little while? Why the sudden effusion of such stuff? And then it struck me; we now have loads of educational institutions, pumping out hordes of glassy eyed dreamers, who have become production line product, trained in dance and/or drama.
And what’s the glorious acme of their profession most might earn a buck or two from? Depressingly, it’s advertising. I suppose some might get Butlin’s style gigs. Some might go on to teach more aspiring dreamers. But, as with Fine Arts and Music, most will have to eke out a living by other means.
Dammit! I’m still skirting around my chief focus… the omnipresent asshole! So, let’s get to it, let’s really get stuck into the fundament/als! Thar’ she blows…
Basically it boils down to this; would you be happy inviting the kind of hectoring, patronising, wheedling, insinuating assholes that one hears in advertising in off the street to harangue you in your home? ‘Cause that’s what we’re all doing, when we tolerate advertising.
Again, rather depressingly, that’s what a great deal of what I’m increasingly thinking of as contemporary serf-culture trains us to do. If you like a lot of modern pop music, which includes supposedly ‘underground’ or counterculture (but in reality totally commercially co-opted) genres like rap or metal, you’re already being inoculated in the required ‘herd immunity’ to such internalised or even self-inflicted bullying.
Anyway, enough ranting, or sounding off, or whatever it may be. For now! my thoughts on all this are fairly clear, if not, perhaps, terribly well formed. But they may change, with time, and further consideration or information. For the time being, however, I remain resolute in my disavowal of the pollution that is most TV advertising.
Hannah, my sister, bought me this book for Yuletide. Thanks, Hannah!
Having been on a longer than usual break from reading, I’m looking for’ard to getting stuck in to this! This isn’t a review of the book, obviously. How could it be, not having read it yet!? It gets glowing reviews. But I’ve found that’s not necessarily any guarantee I’ll like something!
Phil’s solo debut. He always looked pretty damn cool!
Interesting that it’s named for a Lizzy fan favourite which, whilst perfectly good in a ‘standard fare’ way, is far from a being a favourite of mine. Were I to write a Lynott biog it’d prob’ be called Still In Love With You. Partly ‘cause that’s a blindingly brilliant song, and partly because it perfectly captures both how I feel about Lynott, and also the plaintive poetic heartache that makes a lot of his and Lizzy’s best music so good.
A favourite platter in my teen years!
It’s that aspect I love most, about Thin Lizzy, in addition to their perhaps more usually celebrated rock n roll bombast. And then there’s Phil’s solo stuff. I don’t really know Solo In Soho very well (writing this has prompted me to remedy that, by ordering it off Amazon!). But I’ve long known and loved The Phil Lynott Album. A true classic, on which his mellower muse is allowed freer rein than it is on the final few Lizzy albums.
Seriously cool cats know about the good stuff!*
* I hope Theo K does actually dig Lizzy, and it’s not just a ‘funky tee’ thang!?
Holy-guacamole! What an astonishing debut. Joni Mitchell just knocks me off my feet. I’m winded, as if with a hefty punch to the solar plexus. And tears come. The music is just so powerful. The swift one-two combination of I Had A King and Michael From Mountains is a pair of knockout blows right from the get go.
The other and most notable thing, for me, is the emotional register of it all. It’s beautifully and very powerfully melancholy. Even Night In The City, the most overtly or ostensibly ‘jolly’ song – track three (a perfectly good song, but the weakest here, for my money) – has an inescapable element of that Joni blue.
After the slight anomaly of Night In The City, come Marcie and Nathan La Franeer, and we’re plunged back into the cold icy waters of Joni’s oceanic Northern consciousness. When we get to Sisotowbell Lane, any dam on my constipated emotions is obliterated. I love the entire album. But Sisotowbell Lane is a snowy peak of Himalayan stratosphere piercing sublimity.
But, as if to confound my gushing hyperbole, she follows this with the magnificence of The Dawntreader. This album could easily be the dictionary or Brewer’s definition of the phrase ‘an embarrassment of riches’.
Mercifully the intensity let’s up a fraction with the slightly strident mildly experimental Pirate of Penance, and remains at a lower ebb for the title track. Every single track, save perhaps Night In The City, gives the lie to the ‘female folkie’ label occasionally applied to Joni (esp. in her early days*), as they are all far more richly complex, more ‘compositional’…
And so we come to journey’s end, with Cactus Tree. And once again we’re stood atop a mountain, or are we riding the crest of an emotional wave of titanic oceanic proportions? How could such a slight willowy polio afflicted young woman become the lightning rod for such powerful elemental forces?
As long as I live I will love Joni with an unrequited passion. Who was it – Woody Allen, perhaps? – that said unrequited love was the only kind that really lasts! Song to a Seagull is an astonishing album. A masterpiece. And that it was Joni’s debut is even more astounding.
The version I’ve just listened to, which ended with uncanny Joni-esque perfection just as I arrived at work (how will I explain my puffy red teary eyes?), is the recent 2021 remaster, from the Reprise Records reissue box. It’s been ‘improved’, from the original David Crosby produced sessions, apparently.
I have to confess that I don’t find the engineering or production interventions particularly noteworthy, or even very noticeable (mind, this particular listen was whilst driving, so the music was competing with all the noises associated with that). Although STAS is sonically different to the following albums, that’s also part it’s period charm.
The remaster certainly doesn’t spoil that. But nor, so far at any rate, to my ears, does it radically alter or improve it. STAS simply remains a sublime slice of early Joni. Totally essential, in my world.
* One has to go back to her pre album café gig era, some of which is documented on the terrific Volume 1, The Early Years, 1963-1967, from the marvellous Joni Mitchell Archives series, to find her sounding like a more typical ‘60s folkster.
For a long time I was pretty severely depressed. For many reasons. From Robert Crumb like ‘troubles with women’, in my teens’, to struggling to adjust socially on leaving home, and dealing (badly) with health issues like psoriasis and later a related form of arthritis.
But now, and for a quite a considerable and growing length of time, I have been happy. I almost feel I shouldn’t say anything about it, as I don’t want to ‘jinx’ myself! But I’m not surreptitious, as Count Arthur Strong puts it!
I think it’s partly down to having bought our own home. Which we did about five years ago. It’s also due to a work life balance that is about as good as it’s ever been; I work three days a week, teaching drums, and the rest of the week is mine to spend as I see fit.
Simple pleasures! Making this drum for one of Teresa’s clients was great.Nature and culture nourish; a tree and buildings at Ely Cathedral.
But I think the two chief reasons are my stable and happy relationship with Teresa, and modern medicine. The former has brought me a cosy nested feeling. A sense of belonging in the world, and being accepted as I am. Better yet, being appreciated, even treasured, for what I am. What a balm for the soul/psyche that is!
The role of medicine is not to be sniffed at either. I take anti-depressants daily. And unlike many others I’ve known who’ve wound up in such a position, my regime seems to work very well. But even more important, I have a medication that quashes both my psoriasis and the related arthritis. If I wasn’t physically ’better’, I’d certainly still be properly depressed.
And being both mentally and physically successfully medicated, I feel like a fairly normal human being. Whatever that is. I’ve even been able to cope with remaining childless, despite spending pretty large sums on unsuccessful IVF.
A strong loving relationship is conducive to happiness.
This – being happy- is a theme I’ll return to. But for now that’s all f-f-f-f-folks!
I’m typing this at 3.22am, having woken in the night, about an hour ago. And not gotten back to sleep. Insomnia is a recurring issue these days, or, I should say, these nights.
Another recurring issue is clutter. Everywhere. In every room of our home, and in all the outdoor spaces. And, most likely, in my (our?) minds!
I’m determined to address this pressing problem, even if it’s slowly and gradually. That’s the only realistic way. I think. Over this half-term the primary focus, as well as the lounge area downstairs, for me, is my workshop.
Our pal Ken recently pointedly described my workshop as a storage area, as opposed to an actual workshop. The bleedin’ cheek! But in some respects he’s right. In order to work in there at all, never mind safely, I simply must get the place in to some semblance of order!
Things I’ve done recently to this end include building a tool caddy, and repeatedly going over everything trying to find places to store stuff, vacuuming regularly, and putting up various shelves and hooks, etc. Oh, and daily tidying up sessions.
Several further steps I ought to take include: creating efficient storage for abrasives, esp’ sandpaper; organising my wood supplies more efficiently (indoors and out); either making or putting into storage currently unattended music projects (drums and guitars!).
If I can do all these things this week, I shall be very pleased!
I’m sitting in my lounge, Chester‘s dozing in his plush furry ‘dog bed’, purring noisily and happily, and I’m thinking about posting again here, on having painted my tool caddy.
Anne, our next door neighbour is, it seems, in her lounge, the other side of a lamentably thin partition wall. And she’s listening to some awful pop dreck. No idea who it is, but it’s alternating shouty raps with primary coloured auto-tuned fem-vocs.
From Alan Partridge to this popular YouTuber…
It’s not awfully loud thank goodness. But it’s audible to me. Which is a real pity! It’s so obvious, predictable, mainstream. To me it’s brainless, heartless, but most damningly of all, soul-less. As a rationalist who’s not religious the turn my language took there is intriguing!
Anyway, returning to the, ahem… ‘music’, the yin and yang of it. The Yin or female component seems narcissistic in a look at me I’m a Barbie princess way, whilst the Yang is narcissistic in an hyper-aggressive shouty way. Neither are attractive to me.
… I’m not alone in my feelings!
But I suppose I’m not the intended target market. But those two words, target market, sum it up for me. This is not art to enrich the life of the soul (at least not as I understand such things), so to speak, but product to help lobotomise the drones, and keep the capitalist machine ticking over.
Right… a phone call from a drum pupil’s parent has just interrupted my musings. With that finished and out of the way, I’m suddenly and very happily conscious that the music next door has stopped. What bliss!
As a kid I had a few T-shirts – only a very few, mind – that proclaimed something.
One such was a Blackfoot one. They were a US ‘Native American’ rock group, most famous (I think?) for a track called Morning Dew (‘Mourning Jew!?’ says my inner Woody Allen!).
A bit weird, that one. Acquired primarily for the colourful design, at a time when being a rocker/hippy, of sorts, was my intent! I did like the group, or at least the few songs of theirs I’d heard. But in truth, a Thin Lizzy T-shirt, something I now have, but didn’t back then, would’ve been a better representation of my tastes and listening preferences!
I then went through a very long and, retrospectively, rather bleak ‘no logo/label’ phase. A combo of anti-advertising sentiment and a semi (pseudo?) political stance.
Nowadays I’ve relaxed back into a childish glee in using my chest as a communications platform. And I’ve slowly but surely been amassing a collection of T-shirts whose sole porpoise – aside from temperature regulation and public decency – is to let the world know a little about me, without I have to open my yap.
There are still a number of things the puritanical politico-moralist in me eschews; I don’t like brand labels, nor am I fan of slogans. Maybe it’s a legacy of the artist-illustrator-designer part of me? But I prefer T-shirts that are primarily visual. Sometimes, as in the Moog or Lizzy tees, this design is textual. But mostly I prefer pictures or ‘designs’.
Some of these purchases have been happier than others. I’m quite disappointed with how my Mr Natural Robert Crumb T-shirt is fading with each wash. And a couple of Herbie Hancock designs I got (from China, most likely?) are kind of great, design/image wise, but are made from hideous synthetic material (the sort often used for football shirts). I definitely prefer good ol’ plain cotton!
Pics: Herbie tees…
My most recent acquisition – whilst pictured at the top of this post, it hadn’t actually arrived when I started drafting it – is an Impulse record label logo job. I really wanted the maroon variant, with cream disc, etc, the above of the two pictured below. But that wasn’t available. So I went instead for the brown and orange variant below that. Still nice!
My preferred but unavailable choice.The variant I eventually ordered.
This whole trend towards forlornly broadcasting one’s interests, perhaps esp’ so since I turned 50 (Jan’ this year… gulps!), might seem a bit pathetic. But I reckon I’m past caring!
Here’s a mini gallery of some of the designs I have. What does this little collection say about me, I wonder? I’d like to think it’s just a bit of harmless fun. But Teresa seems to be more of the ‘what are you wasting money on those for?’
‘Never forget that the human race with technology is just like an alcoholic with a barrel of wine.’ Ted Kaczynski
Several print versions are available. This is an original manuscript.
I really like the quote at the top of this post. It’s from Ted Kraczyinki’s Industrial Society & Its Future, aka The Unabomber Manifesto. I like it because I think it captures extremely succinctly and very powerfully a very real trait of contemporary humanity, our addiction to technology.
Only the other day the latest copy of The Idler plopped through our letterbox, and the cover feature is an interview with Microsoft employee and tech guru Jaron Lanier (I’d never heard of him before!), and is about how the internet has enslaved us. At least according to the ‘strap line’!
I’m someone who doesn’t shy away from some of the darker rabbit holes of history. For example, my interest in WWII has lead me to read numerous biographies of Churchill, Stalin and Hitler.
Nothing too controversial so far, perhaps? I mean, Churchill is regularly described as one of the greatest of Britons. Hitler and. Stalin, tho’? I will admit I felt slightly grubby or suspect, even, purchasing Mein Kampf, which I’m part way through reading at present (it’s a pretty stodgy read, before one even addresses the author’s ideas).
If one fears polluting one’s mind with dangerous ideas, ought one to even contemplate reading what might be the demented ravings of, say, a serial murderer, like Anders Brevik, or the Unabomber? [1]
Several modern serial killers have published ‘manifestos’. I don’t know this for sure, not having read much in that line, but normally, from what I’ve gathered about those by folk like Brevik and Brenton Tarrant, the Christchurch (NZ) Mosque shooter, they’re like the worst kind of school essays, composed from cut and paste plagiarism. Never mind the drivel that passes for content.
Anyway, as I’m clearing steering this from the less obviously or overtly threatening arena of biog’s of the ‘great men’ of history (great in terms of historical impact, as opposed to great as a friend/human being!), to the writings of convicted serial killers, one might reasonably ask, is this really to slide rapidly downhill into a moral cesspool? Hitler, Stalin, even Churchill, all sent vastly larger numbers to premature graves, even if they admittedly didn’t personally perform any/many lethal acts themselves.
But enough prevarication! In this post I am talking about the ideas of a convicted serial murderer. A man frequently dismissed as insane; note the ‘brilliant madman’s essay’ bit in the pic at the top of this post. So, having just read Industrial Society & Its Future, this post aims to ask, is anything Kaczynski says true, interesting, valid, or worth pursuing further?
The young mathematics genius.The older ‘lone wolf’ outsider.
Throughout the 35,000 word document Kaczynski repeatedly refers to himself as we, or FC (this latter purportedly standing for Freedom Club), and on one occasion he even alludes to the fact that, without his having killed, he wouldn’t have attained his goal of getting his thoughts published and – he hoped – widely read.
Interestingly, having already waged a long lethal campaign of terror, successfully evading detection, he used the threat of deadly violence in two ways in relation to his manifesto. Violence had got him attention, and now it was to be both carrot and stick, when he approached parts of the US media with the aim of getting his thoughts published.
On the one hand, the carrot, he promised to cease and desist from his bombing campaign, if his manifesto was printed. But on the other, the stick, he threatened to kill again if his writings appeared in Playboy, preferring instead the more high brow NY Times and Washington Post!
A facsimile of one of Kaczynski’s bombs.Hugh Scrutton, one of Kaczynski’s fatal victims.
I read somewhere online – I can’t recall where – that Kaczynski claimed his killing of computer store owner Hugh Scrutton (pictured above) was ‘humane’, and the victim ‘probably didn’t feel anything’. Other and more reliable/plausible sources of information suggest Scrutton remained conscious and took about 30 minutes to die. Obviously such a gap between the perpetrators’ perception of his actions and the real consequences doesn’t cast the Unabomber in a good light.
But stepping back momentarily from the messy and personal nitty gritty of individual lives, deaths, maiming, etc, what at first appears mind-bogglingly awful – killing another person to get your views across – is in fact, historically, relatively normal human behaviour, albeit that this is not something readily or happily admitted to nowadays. And by and large society seeks to quell this aspect of our natures.
But governments, and even corporations, continue to do it all the time. When governments do so, it’s called foreign policy. When individuals outside of the traditional power politics frameworks act in this way, depending on their targets/motivations, it’s generally going to be labelled either freedom fighting or terrorism, depending also where the relative parties (and observers/commentators) stand.
But setting aside how Krazynski got his platform, do the key ideas in Industrial Society & Its Future have any useful insights or merit? I don’t really know why this suddenly became interesting to me. But it did [2]. And for this reason I wanted to read it. So I did a little ‘googling’, and soon found it, archived via the papers that originally (and with state/security forces backing) published it.
It’s a very long essay, in numbered paragraphs with quite a few footnotes. Some of Kaczynski’s former life as a student/academic/professor, clearly lives on! This said, structurally and in terms of content, and despite the author’s obvious intelligence, it is also quite rambling, and perhaps lacking in coherent structure.
Ted at his cabin.
Worse still, like many critiques of modern society, wherever they might originate from, left/right, anarchist, whatever – oh, and America as a whole, and Kaczynski along with her, has serious issues with the whole idea of ‘leftism’! – it’s strong on critique and weak on solutions.
Anyway, I suppose now is the time/place to précis the contents. I, like Kaczynski, am fond of endless digressions, and feel a compelling need to qualify anything I might be thinking or saying to the nth degree. I’ll try and spare you that now! As simply and as brutally as I can, I’ll synopsise FC’s diatribe.
Rather bizarrely, the whole thing is bookended, fore and aft, with his railing against ‘leftism’. For now I’m simply leaving that issue at that, i.e. duly noted. What’s much more interesting, to me at any rate, is his expatiating on modern society and our seemingly exponentially increasing dependency on technology.
To cut a long story short, I think he’s essentially correct in his analysis: in essence modern or post-industrial-revolution society is a vast and brutal ‘super organism’. And one that has gathered its own momentum, in which the human species has now been almost completely reduced to an enabling agent. Cogs in the machine, the grease that keeks the wheels spinning.
The consequences for individuals, in terms of the loss of personal freedom, have been very radical indeed, and are, by and large, a fairly recent loss. The damage is not wrought on the psyches of individuals alone either, but also on the ‘natural world’, or our environment. This is something Kaczynski feels keenly. As indeed do many nowadays, a lot of whom might be shocked to learn that Kaczynski is, in this respect, a ‘fellow traveler’.
Surreal… Ted’s cabin on the move!
There were times as I read this that I thought to myself, ‘Ah, but Ted, you’ve missed such and such’. For example he likes to say ‘The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.’ And he frequently harks back to the 19thC in particular, on this theme. But he does also, if only in passing, allude to the fact that humanity’s ability to affect nature may have deeper roots.
I recently read Against The Grain, in which James C. Scott goes much, much, much further back, placing humanity’s domestication of fire as the start of our leaving a discernible imprint on the planet. But Scott also makes the point that most of humanity remained living mostly outside of state control until very recently. And in this respect, despite differing in details, the essence of their sweeping vision remains much the same; only very recently has humanity become enslaved by the super-organism that is modern society.
The major issue, obviously, is what, if anything, can be done? And with Kaczynski, the lone wolf, that translates to ‘what can one do’, individually, about this new evolutionary context we find ourselves seemingly inescapably enmeshed in? Kaczynski’s answer is to seek to destroy it. That’s where he and I part company.
Some might say ‘why bother to read the ravings of a nutjob?’ Well, we might say Kaczynski’s nuts. But I’m interested in what sends folk over the edge. Maybe our society is in need of change, and maybe not all who oppose the status quo are de facto insane. Maybe even those driven to the most overtly shocking or barbaric acts can still teach us all something about ourselves?
I found Kaczynski’s ‘manifesto’ interesting, it didn’t seem to me like the ravings of a lunatic. His issues with leftism are things you can hear people say very frequently, both here in the UK and the US. Many of them could equally well be said of aspects of ‘the right’ (I hate the whole left/right binary thing, it’s so limiting in scope!). But as I said above, I’m not going down that rabbit hole in this post. His grievances with ‘Industrial Society’ seem genuine and, for the most part, understandable.
Ted’s cabin wound up in the ‘Newseum’.
What I take away from having dared to read the ravings of a lunatic, so to speak, is that our society does indeed face many serious issues, and that the answers are far from simple.
If you’re interested enough to want to read it, the text of the manifesto can be found here.
NOTES:
[1] My mum, bless her, was worried when I bought a WWII German tanker’s cap, at a ‘40s show (I also bought some British uniform gear), lest putting it on my noggin might somehow transmit evil Nazi brainwaves from cloth to psyche! I reassured her that it was a repro’ item, and not a genuine WWII piece.
[2] Possibly it came to mind around the 9/11 anniversary? At times like that we sometimes wonder – as well as mourning the passing of the victims of terrorism – what motivates the terrorist.
