Bella Massie

SCUM Manifesto: Society for Composting Unnecessary Matter

Life in this society being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of society being at all relevant to the majority, there remains for the civic-minded and thrill-seeking only one option: to dig up the soil, immaterialise the money system, institute complete bodily-autonomy and begin the composting of all unnecessary flesh. 

The individual body being no longer able to survive, let alone flourish, within ghost towns governed by Greene Kings, where supermarket meal deals cost £5 and honest shoplifters are confronted with security tags on even only-slightly-nicer-than-usual jars of coffee, we have been left with no choice but to embrace decay and immediately embark upon self-imposed decomposition.

We have been left with no choice but to embrace decay and immediately embark upon self-imposed decomposition.

To clarify, I am not referring to this decomposition of the self in symbolic or metaphorical terms. I am not calling for marginalised people to reject identity labels, nor am I advocating for a new artists’ retreat, which due to its being structured around the revolutionary principles of mycorrhizal co-convergence, claims in its introductory material to have extracted itself from otherwise omnipotent structures of hierarchy, and is thus always already absolved from any hypothetical future abuses of power. I am not imagining marginalised people will one day rise up from this rot in some sort of triumphant, fungal flourish. There is no consolation offered here, no notion of a fertile future being wrenched out of all this filth. The time to discuss such tidy resolutions is past, and anyway, who really wants to shoulder the responsibility of metamorphosis?

No, I am speaking very literally. I am announcing the immediate imperative for all individuals to return their human body to the soil, allowing it to decay into its constituent chemical parts and thus provide for microbes, detritivores, and subsequent beings higher up in the food chain adequate nutrients to sustain and reproduce life.

In order to do so I urge you to begin by digging a hole. There is no need to do this in an area with already rich soil; in fact, it is better to find a deserted roundabout or a fly-tipped layby. If nothing immediately comes to mind, head to your local supermarket car park, which will inevitably have an adequate scrap of earth at its perimeter. Instead of seeking out a thriving ecosystem, it is now your prerogative to create one. 

To become the best compost possible, I recommend that your final meal is a dine and dash. Other viable options include a box of overly rich choux-pastries brought to you in bed by an ex-lover, or an orange divided meaningfully between three friends. It is recommended to supplement whatever you choose with a ripe pomegranate, so that when your stomach lining has rotted and its contents are beginning to slip out into the ground, Persephone may taste its trace in the soil, enjoying the tart bitter-sweetness all that she likes, having already cursed herself so thoroughly. 

I don’t suggest that you give up drugs or alcohol or cigarettes in order to purify yourself prior to decomposition. A few more toxins in the ground can hardly hurt now, and why shouldn’t the worms get a little buzzed?

There is no consolation offered here, no notion of a fertile future being wrenched out of all this filth. The time to discuss such tidy resolutions is past, and anyway, who really wants to shoulder the responsibility of metamorphosis?

Having said that, there are some contaminants that we must at least attempt to contain. I suggest therefore that before lowering themselves into their holes, all landlords are double wrapped in plastic, and the substrate of their bodies is inoculated with that type of industrious fungi that can break down even oil into harmless by-products. It is also imperative that all police officers, those who work to maintain borders, armies or banks, those who have ever profited from publishing ‘before photos’ or have told a teenage girl that she’s very mature for her age are similarly contained, and that their flesh is marked as hazardous. These safety precautions may seem overly cautious, but I assure you that each is entirely necessary. 

After this task is completed and you have dug your own hole, you may begin to gently ease yourself in. Feel the soil yield to you and your nostrils twitch at the metallic, meaty scent of the living earth. I suggest making your hole big enough that you can lie down on your back, with your legs stretched all the way out, but if you prefer the original comfort of a fetal position, this will also suffice.

Decomposition will begin as the microorganisms residing in your digestive system liberate themselves from the stomach and intestines, collapsing your flesh from the inside out. The process creates a substance known as “purge fluid”, which I do not suggest that you Google prior to undertaking this procedure. The fluid will build up until it forces itself out from the nose and mouth in a final, celebratory ejaculation. Decay will next occur in your eyeballs, with milky liquids running into the earth like candle wax; like the frying of an egg in reverse. As your nails continue to grow they will eventually detach from their nail beds, slivering into the earth. Everywhere else in your body all other rigid connections between keratin and flesh will begin to loosen and slide. 

Within your lungs soil will fill each flowering bud of alveoli and press up against each membrane wall from either side. Once decomposition is in full swing, your organs will be able to glide free from the confines of your body. Feel them spilling out like the contents of a messy tote bag accidentally upended, so many receipts and lip balms rolling onto the bus floor. Savour this looseness in your joints, your cartilage sighing with relief, sagging away from socket and bone and finding its groove in the compost’s matrix. Let the maggots satiate themselves a little on the nutrients as you ride this wave of your own ripe demise.