Ruthless Deconstruction
Edvard Munch, ‘Friedrich Nietzsche’ (1906), oil on canvas, 201 x 160 cm. Thiel Gallery (Courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
I recently read an essay from 1989 by my new favourite philosopher, Richard Rorty, in which he imagines what will have happened by 2010 to the ‘Nietzschean left’, a term he borrows from Allan Bloom, the author of the then controversial book The Closing of the American Mind, that was intended to label the advocates of the hyper-theoretical social justice ideology that was taking over the Humanities departments of American universities in that period. This, Rorty writes, was an ideology that “tells the country it is rotten to the core – that it is racist, sexist, imperialist society, one which can’t be trusted an inch, one whose every utterance must be ruthlessly deconstructed.” Rorty was confident that by 2010 “the brightest Ph.Ds in English that year will be people who never want to hear the terms ‘binary opposition’ or ‘hegemonic discourse’ again as long as they live.”
Oh dear. He was wrong. Instead, the ‘Nietzschean left’ dug in and moved mainstream.
So, in 2022 we have Russell Brand’s entertaining cheerleader version to enjoy on YouTube. Now, as I mentioned in my last post, I am a fan of Russell. It’s exhilarating to listen to a handsome guy who talks so fast and so furious, while also making you laugh. But as I mentioned in my last but one post, since the Ukraine-Russia War began, Russell’s brand (sorry) of ‘Nietzschean leftism’ suddenly seems rather awkward, even callous.
He always begins by saying something like: “Now, I know there’s no excusing the brutal aggression of Putin, and I totally empathize with the suffering of the Ukrainian people. But….” And then he shares with us yet another iteration of basically the same story: western society is “rotten to the core – that it is racist, sexist, imperialist society, one which can’t be trusted an inch, one whose every utterance must be ruthlessly deconstructed.” The Ukraine-Russia war seems to be just another opportunity to do some “ruthless - but fun- deconstruction.”
Now, ‘ruthless’ may not seem like an appropriate word to use in relation to Russell, who seems to be a genuinely nice guy, someone who’s been down to Hell and come back up again, and wants to share his wisdom with the world. But what else is it, really? A typical dictionary definition of ‘ruthless’ is: ‘having or showing no pity or compassion for others.’ As I said, Russell is definitely a guy who is full of pity and compassion for others. In fact, he would probably want to say that he is all about the very opposite of ruthlessness: he is into mercy, compassion, and gentleness. But is this true, in practice?
I wouldn’t say so, at least not in his ‘Under the Skin’ podcasts on YouTube. I’m not talking about the subscription ‘Luminary’ podcasts in which he interviews people. In the former, I think he’s unfortunately often pandering to his immense audience’s resentment and anger, our perverse desire to see everything as “rotten to the core.” Yes. I see myself as participating in this destructive impulse. Especially when I was young I was very keen to see everything as conspiring to hide the terrible truth.
Weird isn’t it, how the usually pretty nasty official ‘‘mainstream’ version of the terrible things going on is always less appealing than the alternative nasty versions spotlit by radical deconstruction?
I can’t talk for anyone else, so I will ask myself: From where within me comes this seemingly insatiable desire to see things as being “rotten to the core”? I think it probably comes from the sorrowful feeling that there’s a great and disheartening chasm between how I believe things should be – for myself and the world in general – and how they actually are.
What would Richard Rorty say? Rorty is a neo-pragmatist. Pragmatists, Rorty writes, “do not believe there is a way things really are. So they want to replace the appearance-reality distinction by that between descriptions of the world and of ourselves which are less useful and those which are more useful. When the question ‘useful for what?’ is pressed, they have nothing to say except ‘useful to create a better future’.” I think this puts a finger on the problem with my younger self and the so-called ‘Nietzschean left’ in general, but perhaps most especially its hipster incarnations. We still assume there’s an ‘appearance-reality distinction’. The ‘appearance’ is the tawdry facade that has been erected by the rich and powerful, and our ‘ruthless deconstruction’ is driven by the belief that this nasty ‘appearance’ goes all the way down.
This is of course precisely what Nietzsche said. There is no reality, or truth, or essence, just different perspectives, and these perspective, so he pronounced, are driven by the ‘will to power.’ Rorty agrees. At least with the first bit. There are indeed no bedrock essences to dig down to. But he fervently disagrees with the second bit. Thinking about the ‘will to power’ is not the best way to explain how the world is the sad way it is. Rather, one should consider the relative usefulness of a given perspective in relation to how well it carries forth the project of creating a better future.
So, I ask: is Russell Brand helping us to feel our way to a better future?
He surely thinks he is. And indeed he is, in the main. But he is also the victim of the default perspective of the ‘Nietzschean left’, which is to see the corrupting influence of power all the way down. And it gets its intellectual and ethical sustenance - and also an emotional ‘high’, and certainly a sense of superiority and clannishness - from this apparent insight into the truth.
Rorty writes of Michel Foucault, a key figure for the ‘Nietzschean left’: “when asked why he never sketched a utopia, Foucault said ‘I think that to imagine another system is to extend our participation in the present system.’” Really? Oh, come on! Rorty rightly call this “one of Foucault’s most fatuous remarks”, but it reflects the general resistance amongst today’s radicals to imagine a better future, simply because the present is so rotten and one can never free oneself from its rottenness.
Russell Brand will rightfully protest vociferously. He will say that of course he is all about imagining another and better future, but that first of all you have to ‘ruthlessly deconstruct’ the present. But I ask: at what point does the secret joy of deconstruction become an end in itself? The feelings and thoughts it panders to make one feel smarter, freer, more exclusive than the dumb masses, less bowed by the powerful, and part of a community of like-minded deconstructors who think the scales have fallen from their eyes and who see the bitter truth.
***
There’s a Korean Seon (Zen) Buddhist saying that has been resonating in my mind ever since I first read it. It goes like this:
Mountains are mountains. Rivers are river.
Mountains and not mountains. River are not rivers.
Mountains are mountains. Rivers are rivers.
Now, this can mean many things – or nothing at all. But in the present context, I like to think it means this: we start our naively thinking the world we inhabit is the real and only world. Then we get savvy and see that it is a mere appearance, one foisted on us when we were to young to defend ourselves. But then, there’s the third stage. It seems to be a reversion to the first stage. But it’s not. In the third stage, we realize that the ‘reality-appearance’ binary is the cause of all the problems in the first place. It is in itself an illusion.
Where does that leave us? Back with ‘Mountains are mountains. Rivers are rivers.’ But now we understand them as a pragmatist might: we don’t go around constantly pointing out that the mountains really aren’t mountains, and the rivers really aren’t rivers. Instead, we strive to live with the version of mountains and rivers that is most useful for helping to realize a freer, more egalitarian, and more fraternal future.
Russell Brand is undoubtedly deeply committed to articulating the values of the third stage. But it’s the second stage that brings him the high ratings. The NOT stage. It can be useful, and it can be fun. But, frankly speaking, I don’t think the NOT stage is a useful platform from which to deal with the tragedy unfolding now in the Ukraine.
Total Lies and Half-Truths
One of the places I go to hear alternative points of view on what’s going on in the world is Russell Brand’s podcasts on YouTube. Usually, I appreciate his irreverent but compassionate take on things. But in a recent podcast (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=595Esg6Mz0U) on the war in the Ukraine I found myself being very troubled by something he said.
Brand claimed that we are so ‘knowing’ about the ways of the world that we recognize that “everyone’s a ‘bad guy’ now.” He meant we can’t any longer sustain the illusion that any war is fought between ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’, as was the case, say, during World War Two. We are too aware of how any claim to the moral high ground conceals mendacity, greed, and the will to power. For instance, Brand mentioned the way in which the mainstream media stokes the fire of war because it increases ratings, how the armaments industry is set to make huge profits, and how the USA and NATO may have forced Putin’s hand.
But to claim that this means we must proceed in general to make judgments from a position that considers everyone is a ‘bad guy’ is obviously a failure of the imagination. First of all, it’s logically impossible, because if no one is a ‘good guy’, then no one is a ‘bad guy’ either, insofar as the two positions must be relative to each other, and possess their meaning by being in a binary pairing. You can’t have a sense of what is bad without also having a sense of what is good. Brand’s comment is like saying that because not everyone passes the moral test 100%, then no one does.
As if to help me get my head around Brand’s comment, I came across a piece by the professor of journalism and political science Peter Beinart in The Guardian entitled ‘Russia speaks total lies. That doesn’t diminish America’s half-truths’ (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/feb/26/russia-lies-america-half-truths). Beinart seemed to be reflecting on the same problem – that of claiming moral equivalence because we can no longer see issues in clear black-and-white terms. He quoted the Hungarian-born journalist Arthur Koestler, who in 1943 at the height of the war against Hitler, wrote: “In this war we are fighting against a total lie in the name of a half-truth.” Beinart noted: “That’s a good motto for American progressives to adopt in the wake of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.”
Implicit in Koestler’s wise insight is the recognition that morality is a spectrum not a see-saw. You can be very far from speaking the unblemished truth and still be a lot closer to it than someone else – Putin, for example. In other words, there are ‘bad guys’ and ‘good guys.’ You just have to see that some are more bad than others, and some are so bad that they must be condemned wholeheartedly, even though one also recognizes that this means bracketing out a lot of the misgivings that under less extreme circumstances would challenge one to dissent.
This is obviously not the time to be berating the USA, Europe, or NATO for all their many failures. In fact, amongst much else, this crisis is a reminder that the critical intellectual and activist juggernaut that exposes systemic racism and sexism, political chicanery and greed, within our own society is a luxury of peaceful times made possible by the relatively smooth functioning of the ‘open’ society that is the focus of the progressives’ critique.
Which isn’t to say that such critique shouldn’t be undertaken!
What is ultimately at stake here is a way of seeing things that reduces them to simple moral choices - the fallacy that Brand himself is so adamant to draw attention to. He is usually excellent at revealing how complex any given issue is, but is clearly not up to the challenge in this case.
This recognition also led me consider how Brand’s usual focus of criticism – that most crises are usually caused by people wanting money and power – cannot be a sufficient explanation in many cases. Putin, for example, is not primarily motivated by either money or power. His motivation lies somewhere near the kind that religion channels, but in our secular age are more commonly driven by ideology. An Ideology is not just a cloak under which to conceal the desire for money of power - although it is also this. An ideology is not only about abstractions. Rather, an ideology addresses very basic and very real human anxieties – above all, perhaps, the need to have a confident sense of mastery, security, and attachment to others. Totalitarianism’s enforcement of ideology, as Hannah Arendt wrote in The Origins of Totalitarianism (1968), “differs from a simple opinion in that it claims to possess either the key to history, or the solution for all the ‘riddles of the universe,’ or the intimate knowledge of the hidden universal laws, which are supposed to rule nature and man." This is what gives Putin the capacity to lie.
Brand knows that today we cannot ignore all the plentiful signs of violence, war, genocide, sexism, slavery, economic exploitation, inequality, dehumanizing technology, and catastrophic ecological despoliation. He is aware that there is a huge distance between how things should be and how they actually are. Wars proliferate endlessly, racism and sectarianism is on the rise. 1% of the planet’s human population own 82% of the wealth; if the United States was an apple pie, the top 20% are currently helping themselves to 90%. The fragmentary and speeded-up nature of our culture distinguishes it from all others in ways that have shattered the old hierarchies. Especially in the west, for those educated within the secular humanist ideology, modernity is characterized by disenchantment and disillusion. The experience of what Heidegger called ‘groundlessness’, the loss of faith in a convincing ‘grand narrative’ through which to securely establish and maintain faith in the meaningfulness of existence, has led to a pervasive yet intangible feeling of disillusionment, anxiety, resentment, and inner void.
Let’s not beat about the bush: Brand is flirting with nihilism, literally, ‘nothing-at-all-ism’. The term defines one of the most significant tendencies in modern culture. In the nineteenth century, as the Russian novelist Ivan Turgenev has one of the characters declare In Fathers and Sons, it became a way of describing “a man who doesn’t acknowledge any authorities, who doesn’t accept a single principle on faith, no matter how much that principle may be surrounded by respect.” For Friedrich Nietzsche, nihilism was an inevitable consequence of the Enlightenment. The idea of the Christian God furnished the faithful with a sense of absolute worth in a world in which they believed they were masters, and where there was the possibility of attaining knowledge of ultimate meaning. But science left no place for such an omnipotent God, and the value system which belief in God produced. Everything could now be explained without him, and so, “God is dead, and we killed him.’ But as Nietzsche also saw, while this Christian God may be ‘dead,’ modern people still mainly clung onto a mindset that forged centuries before around God’s image. As a result, nihilism bred in the empty void created between what modern humans value and how the world appears to be. Being a nihilist requires removing God from the world and then recognizing that the world is now lacking something. Life now seems devoid of meaning, because the old values are absent. Those who collectively gave birth to the secular Enlightenment had believed that it was possible to transfer the values of the religious world to the purely human realm, safeguarding citizens from the dangers of a loss of meaning, inequality of life, and the rule of the strong over the weak. But the project tragically failed. No credible metaphysical framework was created to replace the one once provided by Christianity. Slowly but surely, faith in progress was replaced by a pervasive sense of dread.
But Nietzsche believed that nihilism was not only a disaster. It does not simply have to be a passively endured condition, and could also be an opportunity. Nietzsche identified what he termed ‘passive’ and ‘active forms of nihilism. Nietzsche saw that ‘passive’ nihilism involved the perpetual search for the original values that were once embodied in religion and tradition. In this sense, nihilism is inevitably wedded to pessimism, and to the disjunction between the world we can imagine and the one we must live in. The passive nihilist sees that the world they inhabit does not correspond to the one they recall or have been led to expect, and so they accuse this world failing to provide them with the sustenance they need. There can only ever be temporary distractions from the crushing reality of the empty void within which they are forced to exist, and this offers no enduring consolation. The passive nihilist is forced to live in a world that doesn’t provide them with a sense of purpose, but at the same time seems to them to suit others very well. It is the world that is at fault, or rather the people who seem to be profiting from this world while they are made to suffer. It is the politicians who control government, the one percent who get ever richer, the wreckers of the planet, the wired cosmopolitans of the global network, the foreigners who steal jobs.
But Nietzsche also identified what he saw as a second kind of nihilism, which he called ‘active.’ The recognition of life’s fundamental meaninglessness then serves to free those strong enough to embrace nihilism, who know that they can do whatever they want, and can create their own purpose. Nihilism then empowers. The ‘active’ nihilist embraces destructive action against what they recognize to be an empty value system. Because this system is based on reason, they pursue the irrational, and because it is founded on obedience to the moral law, they flout conventional morality. They embrace the will to power, and through their actions prepare the way for the overcoming of nihilism. They no longer conform to the values and standards of the society within which the unenlightened masses live like obedient cattle, because they have seen through the sham.
‘Active nihilism’ seems to be what Brand endorses. But it is tragically evident that this posture of defiance becomes the pretext for believing that the most ‘honest’ and ‘honourable’ actions are those that are taken in pursuit of one’s own self-interest. If there is no purpose to existence - if everyone is a ‘bad guy’ - then one may well conclude that only one’s own profit counts. In this sense, so-called ‘active’ nihilism becomes little more than an intellectual justification for behaving in ways that are immoral and selfish.
Now, I of course know Brand would wholly disagree with this prognosis, and his goals are far from immoral and selfish. But it is the unforeseen consequences of holding the views he does that worries me. The course of history since Nietzsche’s time has revealed that the commonest outcome of a sense of meaninglessness has been destructive violence motivated by the anger and resentment that arises when there is an unbridgeable chasm between hopes and expectations and the social reality that always thwarts these aspirations.