From the Japanese tsunami to the economic crisis, many believe mankind is ‘dwarfed by phenomena beyond our control’. But we aren’t.
By Brendan O’Neill
Everyone is talking about what a tumultuous year 2011
was. And ‘tumultuous’ - meaning a ‘disorderly commotion or disturbance’ - is
indeed the most apt adjective to describe the past 12 months. For this was a
year in which many important things happened, yet no one is quite clear why or
how or who was ultimately responsible. History was made - lots of it - but
often it appeared as if nobody was in the driving seat. If you want to know
what historic breakthroughs look like at a time when the history-making human
subject has been talked down for years and effectively put out to pasture,
behold 2011.
Marx famously said, ‘Men make their own history, but
they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected
circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted
from the past’. Today, man not only continues to make history in circumstances
that are not of his choosing - he also doubts or denies that he is making
history at all, preferring instead to see himself as the victim of forces
beyond his control, the plaything of some sentient thing called History rather
than the master of history.
This was a year in which agency was accorded to events
that had none, and was denied in other events that truly were driven by human
ingenuity and heroism. So the catastrophe in Japan in March, when an earthquake
and tsunami flattened towns and villages and killed 20,000 people, was
discussed by many as an example of ‘Nature’s fury’, as if she (they always see
Nature as an angry woman) made a decision to punish hubristic mankind. ‘Nature
suddenly decided to go “Thwack!”’, said one observer, almost with a sense of
glee, and she revealed that mankind is ‘hopelessly irrelevant… dwarfed by
phenomena beyond our control’.
Yet the Arab Spring, which kicked off in Tunisia and
Egypt in January before spreading to Bahrain and Syria, was talked about as an ‘earthquake’,
a ‘flood’, a ‘storm’, an inexplicable thing which spread from one country to
another like a ‘virus’. Former Republican presidential candidate John McCain
came in for some flak when he said the Arab Spring was ‘a virus spreading
throughout the Middle East’, but he was only expressing in un-PC lingo an idea
that has become entrenched: that the Arab uprisings are a weird and contagious,
almost malarial phenomenon (liberal observers prefer to say ‘meme’ rather than
‘virus’).
So we anthropomorphise natural disasters, and
naturalise manmade political upheaval. We see agency in what are in truth the
amoral whims of nature, with commentators calling the Japanese tsunami an
‘all-conquering aquatic bulldozer’, yet we see strange viruses at work in something
human like the Arab Spring, as if that rebellion of millions against their
rulers was born of some kind of herd mentality. The personification of the
tsunami, the idea that we’re ‘dwarfed by phenomena beyond our control’, speaks
to mankind’s increasing meekness and view of himself as the object rather than
subject of history. And it has very real consequences. In response to the
unhinged panic-mongering over the Fukushima nuclear-power plant in ‘thwacked’
Japan, Germany promised in May to shut all its nuclear power plants by 2022.
Also this year, political agency was conferred on the
August riots that rocked English cities, yet was withheld from the European
masses’ continuing disgruntlement with the oligarchy in Brussels. Observers
decreed that the looting and burning in London and elsewhere were ‘highly
political’ acts, carried out by ‘rebels with a cause’. Yet the same observers
bent over backwards to delegitimate European peoples’ permanent, sometimes
unspoken rebellion against the institutions of Brussels and Strasbourg,
referring to such opposition as ‘Europhobia’, as if it were a disease of the
mind (‘phobia: a persistent, abnormal and irrational aversion to a specific
thing’). Small mobs of shoe thieves are talked up as rebels taking a stand against
the Liberal-Conservative government, while masses of Greeks and Irish and
Italians who communicate their fury with the illiberal, anti-democratic
Brussels regimes through referenda or graffiti are branded ‘phobic’; once
again, instinctual events are historicised while political feeling is
pathologised.
One of the most striking things about 2011 is how even
political actors themselves disavowed responsibility for their actions,
preferring instead to see themselves as reactants in a kind of a great
experiment rather than potential authors of their destinies. That was the most
tragic thing about the Arab Spring: the disconnect between the heroism and
organisation that was required to get tens of thousands of people on to the
streets to chase Ben Ali and Mubarak from office and how the protesters
conceived of themselves - as people with no political authority, possessed only
of a Twitter-style emotional angst. The Arab rebels have celebrated the fact
that they are leaderless and bereft of ideology and goals (one Egyptian writer
noted the ‘complete absence of ideological rhetoric’), which means they weirdly
deny their own history-making potential even as they demonstrate it physically.
Indeed, across the world this year, there has been a
widespread unwillingness to clarify political problems or articulate political
demands. In the Spanish ‘Indignados’ movement and the Occupy movements in New
York and London - laugh-out-loud caricatures of the Arab Spring - activists
openly celebrate the fact that they are ‘independent of any democratic
structures and party hierarchies’ and have ‘no political programme’. They even
use McCain-like language about viruses, claiming their movement consists more
of ‘unthought’ than thought, where creeds emerge ‘without much articulation as
to why they’re necessary, almost as [reflexes]’. What we have here is people
making a virtue out of vacuity, where the denigration of the human subject and
of the idea that man might remake his world is turned from a negative into a
positive: apparently, not knowing how to clarify crises and pursue goals is not
a bad thing - it’s ‘liberation from dogma’.
What these radicals seem not to realise is that their
disavowal of grubby politics in favour of myopic process (the Occupy movement
is now entirely devoted simply to keeping itself chugging along) almost exactly
echoes the outlook of the political elites in 2011. For our rulers, most
notably in Europe, have likewise made it their aim to decommission politics and
replace it with technocracy, because apparently things like the economic crisis
are better dealt with by experts rather than through engagement with hoi
polloi. Indeed, the economic crisis is now also looked upon as a kind of
tsunami that dwarfs mankind - so it apparently isn’t appropriate to have a
democratic debate about it, or even to treat it as a political issue, and
instead what we really need is ‘expert’ firefighting. In the ousting of
democratic governments in Greece and Italy, and their replacement by unelected,
Brussels-approved gangs of alleged know-it-alls, 2011’s sidelining of history-making
man in preference of apolitical, lifeless managerialism reached its nadir.
This has indeed been a tumultuous year - yet while
much has happened, all sides deny historic responsibility for having made it
happen and eschew historic responsibility for pushing it in a certain
direction. Everywhere we look, historic man is being muted and mocked, whether
he’s viewed as a victim of Nature or is forcibly elbowed off the political
stage (as has happened to the peoples of Greece and Italy) or is voluntarily
elbowing himself of the political stage (as threatens to be the case in the
Arab world). Yet the fact is that man did make history this year: Japan rebuilt
itself; the Arab people got rid of tyrants; and even in Athens, so thwacked by
Brussels, there is graffiti everywhere saying ‘Fuck the EU’. If we can find a
new language in which to express and celebrate people’s desire for political
change and historic impact, 2012 could be an exciting year.
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