Or, more precisely, I think there IS a substantive difference, just one that doesn’t apply here. I’m still a Sexual Progressive after all: if you really love that severed pig’s head, if you’re honest with it about your feelings and the nature of your relationship, by all means, make sweet love to it.
David Cameron isn’t really into necroswinophilia, though, you don’t fuck a pig because you love pigs, that’s not the point of pigfucking.
In 1785, the Marquis de Sade wrote 120 Days of Sodom, which starts out as a novel and gradually devolves into a litany of various sexual abuses, increasingly grotesque and sacrilegious. Obscured by the fact of de Sade making himself into the prime case study for sexual sadism is just who, exactly, is doing all of the abusing.
It’s four men: a duke, a bishop, a judge, and a banker.
Nominally the book is about fucking, in whatever the nastiest way a forty-five year old pervert locked in the Bastille could think of. Practically, of course, the book – just like sexual sadism – is about power. The point of being a judge, of being a duke, the point of being a banker or, possibly, even a bishop is the accumulation of power, and the nature of power is that it gives you the ability to transgress.
Which brings us back to David Cameron, and what it means to be a pigfucker. I expect that, though it’s possible, it’s not really the case that the kinds of secret clubs that the British Old Sort belong to – illegitimate third-cousin to the Queen, or scion of a line of stockbrokers, power is abstract and doesn’t distinguish – need to keep pictures of Cameron with his dick in a dead pig as some sort of blackmail.
Like maybe there’s a secret group of actual Tories holding the regular party hostage? Like Cameron doesn’t want to sell off Britain’s assets or starve its poor, but he’s got to because otherwise the Cabal is going to release pictures of him with his dick in a dead pig?
The idea is laughable; in the first place, what is even going to happen to him? Nothing. No one except that guy who keeps logging into Wikipedia to change his name to “David Hameron” is even going to remember this in a month or a year. Even that guy is probably going to get bored of it eventually. In the second place, you don’t need to coerce a guy who’s going to fuck a dead pig so he can join your club. You’ve got that guy. He is on your side, he is ready to play for the team.
Fucking a pig isn’t the beginning of a slow descent into depravity that ends with David Cameron preaching austerity for the poor while he’s at a fucking banquet made of gold.
It’s the end of a journey that began a long time ago. Fucking the pig is the climax; fucking the rest of the country is just dénouement.
In Europe they’ve got something they call Liberalism, which once began as a creditable idea – that people ought to be free to choose what sort of life they’d like for themselves. It was a disentangling from traditional, hidebound structures of aristocracy, patriarchy, nationalism. If you liked, anyway; you were free to dig deeper into it if you wanted.
In practice, freedom comes with money. More money means more choices, and more choices means less tangles. Liberalism in the US kept its trappings of feminism and democracy, but Liberalism in the UK looks something more like Libertarianism – it turns out there’s no upper limit on what you can disentangle yourself from, and the more money and power you have, the bigger the lawn you can buy that keeps you from your neighbor, the more servants you can hire to take care of the mundanity of living, the more you can disentangle yourself from. You can, if you so choose, essentially disentangle yourself from humanity altogether.
Margaret Thatcher once said that there is no such thing as society — that there were just individuals and families and people helping their neighbors.
But that’s not really true. Poor people have families, because we need them. Poor people have neighbours, because we need them. Poor people have society, because we need it.
Rich people have money.
The point of all this is to say that David Cameron isn’t a pigfucker because he literally fucked a pig; the point of this is to say that when all of human experience is understood as being reducible to simple cost, David Cameron is the sort of person who’d stick his dick in a pig if it meant furthering his career. He’s the sort of person who’d burn a fifty-pound note in front of a beggar to join a “dining club” where a bunch of rich pigfuckers like him wreck the place up and then just hand the owner a stack of notes to pay for the damages.
He’s the sort of person who thinks that money and privilege and power buy anything, and look, he’s right: this guy fucked a dead pig, and he still ended up as Prime Minister.
We’ve got them in the US too, obviously. You can probably think of a dozen pigfuckers right off the top of your head. Jeb Bush, at the Republican debates, insisted that George W. Bush – who was president during the largest single terrorist attack on US soil in history, and then led us into two wars that cost hundreds of thousands of lives against two nations neither of which had anything to do with 9/11 – “kept us safe.”
That kind of icy audacity, the ability to say that without even so much as blinking, seems impossible to someone like you or me. But a lot of things seem impossible to you or me. There’s probably a lot of lines that you or I wouldn’t cross.
I don’t know what Jeb Bush, a third-generation legacy and member of the Skull and Bones Society got up to at Yale, but whatever it was, it was pigfucking. Of course it was – once you’ve stuck your dick in a dead pig, lying to thirty million people is easy. Once you’ve been to the Bohemian Grove, once you’ve realized that your money and your family name and your power can forgive literally any transgression, what have you got to lose with a handful of lies?
Politics is lousy with pigfuckers — maybe the most frightening part of this whole debacle is that Cameron didn’t get caught out in the field satisfying his lusts, he did it to join a club; he is not, in other words, a rarity, but rather ritually-initiated into an entire class of pigfuckers — because some huge, stupid swath of the electorate mistakes what it takes to be a pigfucker – a complete and utter absence of anything like human dignity – with strength of will. People who have strength of will do or say what others can’t or are afraid to; pigfuckers do what others can’t because they know that no one is ever going to catch them out.
It’s the natural consequence of believing that there’s nothing irreducible about humanity. Some of them still talk about their gods, and maybe at some level they kind of mean it – but obviously, who’s to say? The whole point of being a pigfucker is that you can do anything. Once you’ve fucked a pig et cetera et cetera.
But even if they DO believe in God, it’s always somewhere else, some afterward, some distant faith. For whatever reason, it never impacts their ability to fire thirty thousand people, or to wrench affordable healthcare from millions more, or to authorize fucking drone strikes on Mexican immigrants. Whatever irreducible morality these people have, it never gets in the way of any of THAT.
And all of the rest of it – once you’ve been through the rites, once you’ve been through the initiations, once you’ve fucked the fucking pig – you learn that the rest of it doesn’t matter. Once you’ve seen how little it really costs to cross the line, and how much you stand to gain by doing it, you don’t’ see the world as anything but cost and gain, ever again.
A person like that is never going to be honest with you, but he’s never going to lie to you the way a liar will lie to you: badly and hampered by guilt. He’s going to lie to you in the way that only a pigfucker can: blithely and constantly, until you give him what he wants.
Lying to you doesn’t cost him anymore than fucking that pig did.