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Thursday, May 21, 2009, 12:47 PM

David Brooks’ recent column on genius, which offered a portrait of the Mozart who excelled by logging his ten thousand hours of rote practice to get on sooner to the good stuff, seemed to gibe poorly with not only our romantic understanding of unique human excellence but our practical understanding as well. However perfect practice might make, we all recognize the difference — even if we can’t detect it expertly — between outstanding technical competence and the unity of skill, raw talent, and greatness of vision that betokens the true genius.

But now, Brooks has written an important sequel, a column which in no way advertizes itself as such, but nonetheless cries out to be read that way. The subject of “In Praise of Dullness” is a particular kind of human excellence — that of the business owner or chief executive officer. Here, Brooks tells us, is a type of executive who leads in a manner utterly different from that to which we have become largely accustomed. The best C.E.O., in fact, has little use for ‘the vision thing.’

The traits that correlated most powerfully with success were attention to detail, persistence, efficiency, analytic thoroughness and the ability to work long hours [...] warm, flexible, team-oriented and empathetic people are less likely to thrive as C.E.O.’s. Organized, dogged, anal-retentive and slightly boring people are more likely to thrive.

Studies have shown, Brooks tells us, that “the best C.E.O.’s were not the flamboyant visionaries. They were humble, self-effacing, diligent and resolute souls who found one thing they were really good at and did it over and over again;” that “extroversion, agreeableness and openness to new experience did not correlate well with C.E.O. success. Instead, what mattered was emotional stability and, most of all, conscientiousness — which means being dependable, making plans and following through on them.” While “it’s important to be a sensitive, well-rounded person for the sake of your inner fulfillment,

the market doesn’t really care. The market wants you to fill an organizational role. The market seems to want C.E.O.’s to offer a clear direction for their companies. There’s a tension between being resolute and being flexible. The research suggests it’s more important to be resolute, even at the cost of some flexibility. The second thing the market seems to want from leaders is a relentless and somewhat mind-numbing commitment to incremental efficiency gains. Charismatic C.E.O.’s and politicians always want the exciting new breakthrough — whether it is the S.U.V. or a revolutionary new car. The methodical executives at successful companies just make the same old four-door sedan, but they make it better and better.

A profound argument about the interplay of genius and accomplishment is at work here. In a guruized age, where the cushy yet elite consulting gig is the prize plum of the job market, American capitalism has become antagonistic to the soul or character of true accomplishment in business. Dry, inflexible, persistent, comprehensive, and disciplined work is associated today with everything uncool about old white guys. That uncool is predicated upon a fierce opposition to the idea that those old guys’ way of life is worthy of honor and imitation — not only insofar as their boring, plodding ways fall short of the good life, but insofar as they themselves are understood to repress that understanding: the dinosaur takes obsessive refuge in his ways to mask and cope with his deeper anxieties and longings to ‘be himself’ and ‘color outside the lines’.

Two symbiotic languages are deployed against Brooks’ virtuous dull — the language of therapy and the language of charisma. Charismatics are essential to the institutionalization of therapeutics — especially charismatics who ritually perform and advertize their equality with the therapeutically managed as a fellow dependent upon therapy. But, of course, the kinds of charismatic transgressions against routine, method, and order that the licensed charismatics are permitted (and rewarded for) goes way beyond the kind of token revolutionary innovations permitted the theraplebes. Matt Crawford, in Shop Class as Soulcraft, takes star public gurulectual Richard Florida to the woodshed on this point. Florida has rhapsodized over the “small change made on the salesroom floor” by “a teenage sales rep re-conceiving a Vonage display or an immigrant salesperson acting on a thought to increase outreach;” for Matt,

It seems the unleashed power of all those mavericks in the Best Buy creative sector is fully compatible with near-minimum wage. [...] Are we to believe these teenagers and immigrants working at Best Buy have reclaimed the unity of thought and action of the preindustrial craftsman, or of the gentleman innovator? Florida seems to suggest there has been a wholesale overthrow of the centralization of thinking that is the hallmark of industrial capitalism. (49)

So long Sam’s Club conservatism, hello Best Buy liberalism! The symbiosis of charismatic transgression and therapeutic routinization comes together in a wholesale overthrow of the meaning of experience. For Brooks’ accomplished businessman, experience — to use an idiom Matt uses — is a cumulative revelation, a relationship of honed competence with a quite closely circumscribed portion of the world. Experience in this mode is something past, present, future, and also in an important respect outside of time, preserved in the head and heart and etched into one’s soul or character. It does not flip on and off like a lightswitch activated when one is working and deactivated when one is not. For the professional whose idea of accomplishment has been guided by the allure of therapies of charismatic performance, experience is something totally different — an instant, not a constant. The ideal person is he or she who is hungry to experience an experience, whose hunger has not been qualified, focused, or cabined off by his or her experience.

This transvaluation of business values reflects a routinization and banalization of Nietzsche that Nietzsche fatally failed to predict. “I have a terrible fear that one day I will be pronounced holy,” he said, not very beyond good and evil. Neither Nietzsche nor competence are sacred in the corporate culture of what Eva Illouz calls emotional capitalism. Holy is a pejorative, as in ‘holy relic’ or ‘sacred cow’. H0ly is bad; holy is a handicap.

Brooks’ bottom line is a firm challenge to this desacralizing ethic of sacrificing experience at the altar of experiences: “the virtues that writers tend to admire — those involving self-expression and self-exploration — are not the ones that lead to corporate excellence.” And then he makes the following leap:

For the same reason, business and politics do not blend well. Business leaders tend to perform poorly in Washington, while political leaders possess precisely those talents — charisma, charm, personal skills — that are of such limited value when it comes to corporate execution. [...] Until recently, corporate culture has been free to thrive in such unlikely places as Bentonville, Omaha and Redmond. Of course, that’s changing. We now have an administration freely interposing itself in the management culture of industry after industry. It won’t be the regulations that will be costly, but the revolution in values. When Washington is a profit center, C.E.O.’s are forced to adopt the traits of politicians. That is the insidious way that other nations have lost their competitive edge.

For the embattled heroes of Brooks’ story, management pertains to the quality of products. For the villains of Brooks’ story, management pertains to the qualities of people. Among other things, Brooks’ story reveals that technology doesn’t have much of a dog in this fight. Questions about science and human responsibility aren’t much to the point in this controversy; if anything, technology sides with the ‘outmoded’ old businessman concerned with the orderly refinement of competence in the physical world of tangible things. In a wider view, the moral life of the individual is impacted far more profoundly by the desiring relations among persons than by the rationalizing relation between man and nature. Our fervent desire to experience the genius for individuality leads us to denigrate and dismiss as unglamorous experienced accomplishment. But individuality is not going away anytime soon. Ultimately, the philsophy of virtue that could be said to have arisen from the genius of experienced accomplishment itself pointed inexorably toward the individual ideal.


Friday, May 15, 2009, 1:43 PM

One thing that’s always unfashionable is pessimism about the Power of Love. I touched a bit on love yesterday, and I see today that Daniel did the same a few days before that — in the context of another go against our love-projecting cosmopolitans. Where the cosmops would seek, technologically, to infinitely expand the scope of love, marching its borders forward as inexorably as progressively, Daniel’s orthopaleos would journey into the depth of love, sinking into its profundity like a plumbline. When it comes to love, to drop anchor is to stay local. But Daniel draws out the difference between anchoring love in the community and the household:

If people voted their individual or household interests, such policies would in all likelihood never be accepted by very many. The trouble with these policies is that they are, in fact, sound and serve the common good and the well-being of the country, but they probably would inflict temporary hardships and would require some serious understanding of citizenship and social solidarity* to keep their effects from provoking a harsh backlash.

About that asterisk. Daniel seems to allow that, whatever may be said about recovering a serious understanding of citizenship, the only sane or trusty philosophy pertaining to social solidarity emerges from religion. In another post, he asks:

Is the paradox the product of human craving and the inevitable disappointment and dissatisfaction that follow from desire? If so, the answer could lie in the self-denial of humbling oneself exceedingly in imitation of the Lord’s kenosis, which would entail forsaking status and honor to take, as it were, the form of a slave. That probably sounds bizarre, but it points to what Caleb Stegall has been saying about the centrality of love in all of this and, I might add, the right ordering of loves, which would tell us not to seek greener pastures but rather cultivate the ground where we are. A culture in which kenosis, self-emptying, was the highest ideal rather than self-fulfillment would be one in which mobility and flight might be possible but would very rarely be considered desirable.

This I do not doubt — wildly at odds as it is with our American culture, and ruthless as it is in its disciplines exacted upon the human soul. Yet — and granted, this isn’t the focus of his post, but it bears strongly on it, I think — Daniel doesn’t capture the way in which cosmopolitan love reflects something deeper than a mere taste or longing for ‘greener pastures’. Michael Gerson doesn’t just want greener pastures; he is apt to obsess over the most barren lands. There is a guilt-racked masochism, deriving from a massive anxiety that we’re fated to know ever more about all the world’s suffering, which can’t be reduced to a symptom of the cosmopolitan’s bored urbanity and idle hands. There is a serious tension afoot: we are commanded to love our neighbor, yet we can never love the world nearly as much as the Lord. The neighbor question — who’s proximate enough — is one never to be settled. Technologies of information in a world preoccupied with suffering and cruelty unsettle things further. We always already must constantly renegotiate our uneasy horizontal in the vertical authority of God’s love.

In the Christian schema the breadth and depth of Christ’s love is inimitably infinite and eternal from the perspective of finite, mortal man. The world, or our fallenness, imposes limits on our power to deepen our love and empty ourselves, just as it imposes limits on our power to broaden our love to reach perfect human solidarity. Under anxiety of imperfection we practice therapies of progress, in which the experience of deepening or broadening takes place of privilege over the attainment of depth or breadth itself. Unavoidably, the pathologies of self-reflection taint both our localism and our dislocalism. There is something never fully human about a slave, even — perhaps especially — one self-made.

Maybe it’s inevitable, as Daniel reveals, that in the battle between individualists and communitarians the household is accused by each side of sitting in the enemy camp. Surely the household inevitably is in ‘danger’ of falling under the sway of one to the exclusion of the other. Family love has annoyed the individualists as arbitary and unequal, and frustrated the communitarians in its constant willingness to put the fortune of the child ahead of the fortune of the locality. But the jury is out as to whether the child is more ‘radically self’ or ‘radically other’. Nor can we really tell whether the boorish individualist or the boorish communitarian is more likely to err in the direction of the former or the latter view. The family frustrates those categories in its relatively stable negotiations of love’s bounds and depths. But the family is a bad foundation, or none at all, for politics. And this is the start of our problems.


Friday, April 24, 2009, 6:15 PM

Via Hit & Run, I see that Gerard Magliocca of Concurring Opinions has called Huey Long “the forgotten man in The Forgotten Man,” by which he means that, whatever you want to say about FDR, at least he wasn’t Huey Long:

Among other things, [Governor Long] wanted to establish a personal income cap through massive wealth and income taxes to pay for public works and subsidies for the poor. FDR told his aides that he “needed to steal Long’s thunder” in 1935, which led to the proposal of Social Security and a much more modest wealth tax. (FDR was also responding to other protest movements — Father Coughlin and Dr. Francis Townsend come to mind.)

But this nesting doll has one more babushka in it: the forgotten man in “The Forgotten Man in The Forgotten Man” is James Michael Curley, or any number of other urban bosses who found themselves eclipsed by the New Deal’s federal bureaucracy.

When the New Deal upstaged Huey Long, it took down one demagogue by replacing him with something not quite as bad — no great loss, and no great accomplishment. But when the New Deal took away the patronage and relief systems that were the lifeblood of urban machines, it destroyed an entire way of doing politics and replaced it with something worse.

How so worse?

1. Machines Come Cheap. Herbert Hoover crunched the numbers in 1936:

Recently I had the opportunity to observe comparative morals in the spoils system by a contrast between Tammany Hall and the New Deal. In a Tammany-dominated borough in New York in early 1933, before the New Deal, there were about 11,000 persons on relief. Tammany had appointed about 270 additional officials under their particular spoils system to manage relief at a cost of $30,000 a month for the officials. This job was taken away from wicked Tammany influence and directly administered by the New Deal. At a recent date there were in the same borough 2000 federal officials appointed under the New Deal spoils system at a cost of $300,000 per month for salaries to manage 16,000 persons on relief. Tammany may learn something new in this spoils system. It was only 10 percent efficient. And the same thing is going on all over the country.

2. Machine Politics: Part of This Complete Burke-Fest. Any traditionalist shibboleth you want — “organic change,” “personalism,” “little platoons” — they had. Especially personalism, as Jack Beatty points out:

“I think that there’s got to be in every ward somebody that any bloke can come to—no matter what he’s done—and get help,” Martin Lomasney is reported to have told the writer and social critic Lincoln Steffens in the course of his research into the plight of American cities. “Help, you understand,” said the ward boss, emphasizing the particularistic nature of the ethnic philosophy, “none of your law and justice, but help.”

3. Metis Me in St. Louis. Politics is a skill that can only be acquired by experience, and a well-run machine guarantees that anyone who makes it to the top of the greasy pole has paid his dues among the foot-soldiers and, consequently, knows important things like who to call to get a particular pothole filled. Which, in local politics, is more important than wonkery — as John Lindsay learned the hard way.

4. “I’m a Democrat, Not a Liberal!” Machines redistributed wealth, but never for the sake of any grand social revolution. As far as they were concerned, the rich could stay rich and the poor stay poor, just so long as no one starved and the voters were happy. Their lower- and working-class constituents didn’t have more revolutionary ambitions than that. (It’s worth noting that, for the most part, urban machines were hostile to organized labor.)

5. Catholicism. Everywhere. Just sayin’.

So, Magliocca is certainly correct that any evaluation of the New Deal needs to consider its effect on local and state politics, but the fact that it superseded Huey Long doesn’t mean the effect was uniformly a helpful one.


Friday, April 24, 2009, 12:44 PM

I am super delighted to see Reihan joining me in the use of ‘econopocalypse’ lingo, but super distressed to see that he is choosing to do so because he increasingly believes we are really destined for an economic apocalypse. Fortunately, the apocalypse has already happened. You haven’t noticed, but zombies have arisen across the country and are currently descending on YOUR HOUSE:

There may well be good reasons for Obama’s itchy intervention-finger, but there’s a real danger that we’ll be left with zombie banks, zombie industries, and a zombie economy that limps along, bleeding jobs and growth for years. Think of this as removing a Band-Aid really, really, really slowly.

What happens next? Honestly, what happens next is even scarier. The Establishment — the academic and policy elite, Wall Street, famous sexy people — are more invested in Obama than they’ve been in any president in decades. If Obama fails, a whole system will go down with him. The Republicans will win by default, and they’ll have learned nothing from over a decade of borderline-imbecilic unforced errors.

Instead of, say, Return of the Living Dead III, in which a disaffected schlub falls for the sexy, zombified daughter of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in Reihan’s Nightmare we see our sexy womenfolk and our nerdy men of power falling for a zombie schlub economy. Far more horrific a plot, and sadly much less compelling viewing.


Tuesday, April 21, 2009, 8:37 AM

An admittedly weird vision struck me yesterday. But it’s lingered through to this morning, so consider:

The US recession has opened up the biggest gap between male and female unemployment rates since records began in 1948, as men bear the brunt of the economy’s contraction.

[...] This is a dramatic reversal of the trend over the past few years, where the rates of male and female unemployment barely differed, at about 5 per cent. It also means that women could soon overtake men as the majority of the US labour force.

“It’s almost like a snow globe, the economy’s been turned over and we’re watching it settle in different ways,” said Gary Field, founder of Career Gear, a non-profit organisation that helps low-income men apply for jobs. He has seen referrals rise 35 per cent.

Men have been disproportionately hurt because they dominate those industries that have been crushed: nine in every 10 construction workers are male, as are seven in every 10 manufacturing workers. These two sectors alone have lost almost 2.5m jobs. Women, in contrast, tend to hold more cyclically stable jobs and make up 75 per cent of the most insulated sectors of all: education and healthcare.

Emanating from this news, the weird vision tossed up two figures — one a recently fired average man, the other an average woman who recently survived a round of job cuts. Call them Chuck and Charli. Chuck had a very manly job in construction. He has very characteristically manly spending habits — a few big-ticket items every once in a while (new oversize tires for his truck, a new plasma-screen TV). And he has characteristically manly tastes (white t-shirts, Wrangler jeans, one or two suits). When he goes out, he drinks High Life, because he likes the taste. But he usually stays in, to watch the game with a few friends or to play foosball. Now that he’s unemployed, he figured that finding a girlfriend would be pretty far from his list of priorities. Even last year, when he was thinking about maybe looking for a mate, he felt unsure about exactly what he was supposed to do to find one. He was cajoled by his younger cousin into putting up a profile on eHarmony. But he ignored the thing ever since.

Until now. Up late one night on the internet, he discovered that someone had found him to be of interest. Chuck wasn’t sure about Charli, however. She was cute enough — for a girl older than he was — and his cousin assured him that eHarmony matches were statistically certain to be the best for you. She simply had a different lifestyle. One with a lot more money flowing in and out. She sold pharmaceuticals to local hospitals and doctors. For this job she needed five or six different suits, plus twice that number of expensive-looking heels. She got her hair trimmed and retouched every two weeks. She had two dogs, both of whom had a sitter when she was out of town on business, which was about once a month. She had family, but they were scattered across the country. (Her mom, now single, lived in Hawaii.) She loved going out to eat — like Chuck, she didn’t really cook (never learned), but unlike him she could hardly stand the idea of mac and cheese or cup ‘o noodles for dinner. And for every beer Chuck drained, Charli seemed to put away two pomegranate cosmos.

After a few dates, prompted by the huge tabs she had racked up and he had insisted on at least splitting, Chuck finally broke down and admitted that he had recently been fired. Charli was unfazed and hardly seemed to care — indeed, that night, back at her place, she got more assertive than ever. And wow, was her place ever interior-decorated. There was a piece of furniture he had never even heard of, some kind of high stool, at the foot of the bed, that Charli draped all her clothes on. Chuck felt like he was at a hotel. It was much more awkward than he expected to reveal that he had a condom on hand: Charli laughed that she’d been on birth control for fifteen years. In the bathroom, taking a moment to collect himself while Charli lit a dozen aromatherapy candles in the bedroom, Chuck could hardly find a square inch of bare countertop. Fragrances, cremes, products, serums, pregnancy kits (that was odd), pills, and lotions crowded around the sink in a hodgepodge. He resisted the urge to open the medicine cabinet. Chuck walked back into the bedroom like he was walking into a heavy rainstorm, and that’s when the photo of the cute little kid on the nightstand caught his eye. “Oh, Jaden!” Charli laughed. “Don’t worry — I adopted. He’s from eastern Ruritania. OMG — if you feel bad about losing your job, just read about his family. Jaden’s bio’s in the top drawer. I mean, his birth name is like Xerxes McPlatypus or something, but he loves his new name. He’s gotta fit in, you know? But come on. First things first…”

It was what Chuck and his friends referred to as a no-go situation. He apologized, put on his shoes, and went home.

* * *

Such was my vision. Somehow there’s no shock in the news that men are disproportionately impacted by this recession depression crisis downturn contraction. Conceptually speaking, women are simply bigger, better drivers of the contemporary economy. Cosmetics, confections, children, and birth control are big business. Stuff for and about guys? Not so much. Not when they’re not supporting families. Conceptually speaking, men are more expendable consumers than women. It would appear that they tend to be more expendable producers now too. Even without assigning praise or blame for this state of affairs — and my little vignette, though something of a stacked deck, is simply an updated intensification of the themes to be found in the latest string of schlub/princess movies a la Knocked Up — this state of affairs seems worth reflecting upon. And all this without a peep about emotional capitalism, and all the consumption and production we’re doing in the therapy, retreat, and HR business.


Sunday, April 19, 2009, 9:59 PM

As many friends of Pomocon have observed, the cult of optimism involves some pretty serious pathologies and distorting effects on individual and social life. But one way of thinking about optimism begins with the suggestion that the optimist’s basic concern is with energy. We will, says the optimist, always wind up finding enough energy to meet the demands of the day. (Bracket for now the question of what exactly these demands might be.) The optimist knows that some days are better than others, and occasionally we’ll have to convalesce; but time is short, and/or money, in the real world, and the optimist isn’t terribly optimistic about our prospects for long, open-ended repose. One needn’t bring up Tocqueville to get here, but Tocqueville’s analysis of restless Americans in motion is consonant with the idea that optimism as we know it is nonsense in an energy-poor world.

It is to be expected, then, that policy-oriented critics of optimism are pessimists about fuel. But a savvy optimist would share in the criticism, so far as it extends to our oil-based economy. The only trouble is that we have yet to clear the hurdle of science that will get us to great new vistas of energy. Typically, this is not something our anti-optimists want to hear. The only thing worse than a gas-guzzling Hummer is a green Hummer that gets a hundred miles to the gallon. This is not news to celebrate for those who think our restlessness tears us harmfully away from the right reason of the orderly city of man; and it happens that optimism looks in this light like a vice only to the extent that it spurs us on to greater and greater rambling.

On the other hand, if there’s one place where optimism would feed quickly into tyranny, it’s the civitas, where optimism’s would-be externalities must be generally internalized as the energy-consuming quest for energy is funneled or channeled vertically — between the one and the many — instead of horizontally — out toward the ever-receding horizon. Alas, it’s impossible nowadays to envision a city that’s such a closed system — even one in the clouds or in speech. It is, to be sure, possible to envision a state like that, whether in Hobbesian or Hegelian or perhaps (you do the math) Oakeshottian style. Still, the European experiment with energetic, optimistic states led for dismayingly environmental reasons to colonialism and conquest. Say what you will about the tenets of National Socialism, but the ethos of Lebensraum sought to do ‘at home’ what had heretofore (in the wake of the Napoleonic crisis, note) been seriously attempted only abroad, in reaction to the basic problem of size that geographical Europe imposed.

That problem was swiftly identified and resolved in America, where it could be, unleashing theretofore unheard-of quantities of energy and optimism. Our concern today is whether life after the Tab that Ate America will be markedly energy-poorer. The debate about whether that life is likely to be more or less virtuous turns on the question of whether less energetic and optimistic people will tend to cluster together once again in appreciation of their mutual dependency, or simply ramble more dissolutely, a word which apprehends both a certain kind of moral impoverishment and a certain kind of supervenient profligacy. (When I write about our capacity to party like celebrities though mere amateurs we be, it’s this ambiguity I’m alluding to.) The nature of life in the twenty-first century will not be decided on the strict basis of what happens to our cars, but the mass availability in years to come of huge, eco-friendly partymobiles must surely augur a long, strange life for restlessness, rootlessness, and optimism in America — indulging both in its vertical and its horizontal forms.


Friday, January 23, 2009, 8:55 AM

This one will stir up a hornet’s nest….

The words “global warming” may have achieved Pavlovian status.  Like the ringing of the bell that accompanied the Alpo fed to Pavlov’s dogs, the words foster an immediate and instinctive response by adherents of our disparate political faiths.  Among liberals it fosters the an immediate desire to put a halt to the unleashing of new greenhouse gases, a Gore-ish propensity to quote the latest scientific research and deep disapproval of the American way of life.  Among conservatives it causes a condition close to the foaming at the mouth, a knee-jerk rejection of “purported” science, a denunciation of Statist paternalism and proud assertion of the rightness of our industrial project.  The two sides could not be further apart on this issue.  Yet, what strikes me is how opposite these respective reactions are to the stated political philosophies of liberalism and conservatism – so-called.

Contemporary liberals are marked, perhaps above all, by the modern faith in science and a rejection of the claims of mere nature.  Liberalism was built on the modern scientific project inaugurated by Francis Bacon who rejected that nature was a fixed and permanent entity, but instead urged humankind – through its ingenuity and capacity to understand and decode – to exert governance, dominion, and even mastery over nature.  Liberalism ecstatically welcomed the 19th-century research of Charles Darwin for its fundamental rejection of the idea of a notion of fixed and permanent nature created with intention and design by God.  Darwin refuted the idea that nature was static, and instead – while it purportedly demoted mankind by rejecting the idea of a “Great Chain of Being” – implicitly promoted the idea of humankind as a self-fashioning creature who was capable of changing the natural world that was itself constantly subject to changing forces.  Our contemporary effort to reduce everything to Darwinian terms (even religion!) reflects the view that all human artifacts and efforts are part of the instinctive effort to exercise control over our environment.  We shape and reshape the world in our own image, and reject the antiquated notion of a fixed or “normal” conception of the natural world.

Yet, it is our contemporary liberals who argue against the human contribution to climate change, who appear to embrace the notion that the climactic conditions of the past several centuries constitutes the normal or what should be permanent condition of the world’s climate.  Contemporary liberals seem to exhibit a reverence for nature that belies what is otherwise nearly everywhere a hostility to mere nature shorn of the human ability and imperative to govern its working (e.g., birth control, abortion, etc.).  There is even a strong element of anti-humanism in the arguments of many opponents to climate change, the sense that human ingenuity in utilizing exosomatic energy represents an abuse of the existing natural world – and not a Darwinian survival strategy.  Rather than understanding climate change within the dominant liberal framework of Darwinism – which would suggest that we are at least neutral to creaturely alteration of the world, if not welcoming of the dynamism it will unleash that may force further evolutionary developments and adaptations – instead we witness the invocation of a “normal” condition of nature that seems to be based upon a curiously fixed and unchanging view of how the world should be. 

By contrast, conservatism – particularly as inaugurated by Edmund Burke – arose as a critique of the often Pollyanish and optimistic worldview of liberalism.  It argued on behalf of caution and insisted upon an awareness of the law of unintended consequences.  Conservatism was the locus of at least once principle – “the precautionary principle” – which urged great caution in the face of claims that human actions would always and everywhere result only in good and positive outcomes.  Classical conservatism was firmly wedded to a conception of unchanging human nature – and, in turn, a created order reflected through nature – that demanded hesitation and doubt in the face of claims that the human or natural order was alterable at will.  Conservatism regarded the governing claims of science with suspicion and hesitancy, arguing against its universalizing tendencies and its efforts at dominion, and arguing on behalf of the legitimacy of longstanding  local practices of culture and tradition that modern science often sought to eviscerate. 

Yet it is our contemporary conservatives who most blithely reject the import or relevance of many findings that suggest increases in global temperature are the result of human industrial activity.  It is our conservatives who today urge the rejection of “the precautionary principle” when speaking of global warming, who insist that it is the liberals who are Chicken Littles. At times they argue that – even if the evidence is true – we will have the ingenuity to find technologies and scientific solutions for the problems that are generated by the very successes of modern science.  They are optimistic about our mental prowess and confident that any changes will not be so significant that we cannot redress them.  They retain a commitment to our dynamic and energetic society that generates innovation and change. 

In short, when it comes to the issue of “global warming,” our liberals seem to embrace a conservative stance, while our conservatives appear to evince all the earmarks of liberalism.  What gives?

Dare I submit that global warming is not really about global warming – not really?  Global warming, it seems to me, is a proxy battle in a larger war, a bit like Vietnam was a proxy war in the greater conflagration of the Cold War.  As such, we find ourselves aligned with peculiar allies and defending uncomfortable positions. Indeed, the comparison to Vietnam is not inapt, since Global Warming is now where many of the political and culture wars have now come to rest.  It is an issue around which a now-traditional set of ideological divisions have now come to roost – ones that curiously lead our conservatives to hold a deeply unconservative position and our liberals to act illiberally. 

Of course, the immediate and most palpable issue is that of free market economics:  contemporary “conservatives” hold a adhere to a deeply anti-conservative faith in an unregulated market that is a remnant of the Cold War, while liberals dream of a world State in which we achieve Rawlsian redistributive justice that can be measured based on our respective carbon footprints.  Inasmuch as the fight over global warming can be reducible to a debate over the relative merits of the free market, the incoherence of these two positions is a direct inheritance of the Cold War.

Still, even these respective positions on the economy itself reflect a deeper divide over a more fundamental question.  What seems to be is at deeper issue is the battle over the existence of human nature.  For those on the Left, Global Warming represents the best contemporary avenue toward the age-old ambition to overcome that recalcitrant part of human nature that seems to belie the belief that we can change ourselves without limit – self-interest.  If a new form of global consciousness is possible, then its best prospect for realization appears to be through the inculcation of an immediate sense of the interconnectedness of all things.  Echoing the 19th-century hope among some utopians for the creation of a new “cosmic consciousness” (the most popular book of the late-19th century – Looking Backwards, by Edward Bellamy – was premised upon the achievement of such a form of consciousness in the year 2000), the primacy of the issue of “global warming” among today’s liberals is a continuing echo of that ambition to overcome the recalcitrant existence of the human ego.   Weirdly, the Left adopts a “conservative” stance toward the achievement of anti-conservative transformation of the human creature.

Meanwhile, for those on the Right, the effort to transform human consciousness on this issue represents a step the age-old liberal faith in the plasticity of human nature.  Their insistence that humans continue to act in accordance with the economic imperatives based in human self-interest reflects their Pavlovian understanding that underlying the utopianism of liberal efforts to foster a new consciousness is a kissing cousin of socialism and Marxism. 

Ironically, this proxy battle is taking place in spite of, and not because of, the actual issue of global warming.  It is our conservatives who should rightly be warning of a potential catastrophe for humanity out of a plenitude of caution and prudence.  Our conservatives should be urging restraint of our industrial activities out of ample concern for “the precautionary principle.”  It is our liberals who should be less wed to a conception of a “normal” or permanent natural condition, unaltered by biological activity.  They should celebrate the dynamism of our society and its success in liberating us from the constraints of culture and tradition. 

Doubtless this incoherence is with us to stay for a time – perhaps a very long time.  But we should recognize it for what it is: above all, that both camps are not really debating over global warming. Were liberals truly devoted to a reduction of greenhouse gases, they would have to sacrifice one of the fundamental pillars of liberalism:  the pursuit of human liberation from nature.  Liberalism’s admirable concern about global warming is informed by a high degree of incoherence, in the first instance partaking of a deeply anti-humanistic belief that, at base, draws on classical liberalism’s division between nature and culture.  Further, and more incoherently, the current liberal faith relies unrealistically on a kind of technological optimism that holds we can run our current civilization, continue worldwide economic growth and “development,” all the while cutting back substantially on the exosomatic energy sources that have made much of modernity possible.  Their concerns are real enough, but nevertheless they otherwise occupy a realm of unreality.

Meanwhile, our conservatives are trapped even more deeply in a state of incoherence.  Their devotion to an unregulated free market is one of the deepest sources of anti-conservatism in our time.  Their blithe acceptance of the “creative destruction” of the market is the single greatest contribution to the evisceration of traditional “family values.”  Their implicit hostility to nature attacks the deepest source of conservatism’s meaning – the imperative to conserve.  It is my hope that a new generation of conservatives – highlighting the root word “conserve” – will change the dynamics of this debate.  By urging a concern for the natural order; by insisting upon governance of our appetites; by inculcating prudence and respect for the natural order; by pointing out the incoherence of both contemporary positions, perhaps we will indeed find a better way to exist in a natural order that we did not ourselves create, upon which we rely for life and livelihood, and of which we are finally and permanently a part.  Whether and what will happen as the planet warms is unknown to me.  To be blithely optimistic that we’ll figure out how to deal with it – that science and the market will find a way – seems to me to be the very antithesis of a properly conservative response.  Politics inevitably makes strange bedfellows, but one must always be wary of how you’ll feel about your bedmate the morning after.

(Cross-posted at What I Saw In America)


Thursday, January 8, 2009, 2:08 PM

Apropos of the perennial Locke-run-amok conversation, consider Noah Berlatsky’s piece at the main site:

the American spirit galumphs and galerks through every one of the Doctor’s works. Like his fellow citizens, Seuss is boisterous, hearty, optimistic, profligate in invention, and not too heavy on the thought. [...] In “The Sneeches,” the sneeches with stars dislike the sneeches without stars. The solution? Not understanding, or non-violent resistance, but simply a machine which removes stars! In Seuss’ universe, there is no problem that cannot be solved by old-fashioned practicality, good will, bizarre new-fangled machines, or some combination of all three.

In Seuss’s soul, Berlatsky argues, capitalism and sensualism merge in an erotic celebration of ever-more-preposterous stuff — and the ever-more-outlandish things that that stuff can do. But the stuff of Seuss’s imagination are inventions, see. The manner that Berlatsky identifies in which at least some Seuss stories seem to take on the character of extended product placement ads, more about the inventions that dictate events than the characters who live among them, calls to mind the way in which the democratization of Locke turns advertisement into the site of pride. In a Seussian economy, who needs Arendtian politics? I add only that this may be — especially in America — an actually quite appealing and successful trade. How often are our criticisms of Locke really just criticisms of the democratization of Locke driven by the logic of equality?


Wednesday, January 7, 2009, 12:56 PM

The debate below between Pat Deneen and Peter Berkowitz is interesting and perhaps exceedingly relevant, given the coming "regime change."  I’m going to open my course for seniors with it.

I agree that Peter distorts virtue by understanding it primarily as useful for liberalism or constitutionalism.  Surely liberty is for the practice of virtue, and not the other way around.  The proper way to limit "the state" is by thinking of it as existing for the family, religion, friendship, etc.

But Pat might commit the Marxist error of making the practice of virtue seem too dependent on the prevailing mode of "the division of labor" or techno-development.  So he may exaggerate the morally destructive power of "capitalism." ALL that is solid has not melted into thin air etc.  Sam was certainly right that he follows Marx in not seeing modern government and modern technology as genuinely human goods.

One reason "the liberal state" and the modern, globalizing economy come to prevail is that they are the source of great benefits associated with justice and efficiency.  It’s true enough that, in freeing us from the various despotisms associated with racism, sexism, classism, "religionism," etc., they do tend to empty life of much of its "particularity" or moral content. And a hugely productive society does have the downside of tending–but finally only tending–to reduce virtue to what’s required for productivity.   A good Marxist criticism of feminism is that its purpose is free women to be wage slaves, just like men.  But a good criticism of that good criticism is that women really haven’t become nothing but cogs in a machine.  Today’s family guy and working mom can be grateful both for the new opportunities for genuine self-fulfillment available to women and for the Wal-mart that makes lots of stuff available quickly at low prices.

Let me emphasize that I don’t think Pat is completely wrong, just that he exaggerates.  And maybe he does so at the expense of thinking about how the practice of virtue is possible in our time and place.  People, despite it all, still fall and love and know they’re born to die.  Courage is still required and is still possible. Any "realist" thanks God or nature that we remain stuck with virtue.

Distributism to me is mostly "literary politics" that almost surely can’t be implemented and would likely morph into petty tyanny if it were. Even the Christian Democratic parties of Europe’s efforts to focus political attention on the "common good" and "subsidiarity" unintentionally served creeping and creepy "apolitical statism" of the EU.

Modern liberalism, it also seems to me, derives its real strength from embodying–although in a somewhat distorted way–the Christian/Biblical "personal"  thought about the untruth of both civil and natural theology.  We aren’t born to be citizens and nothing more, and we aren’t born to be parts of nature and nothing more.  Modern liberalism errs by denying that personal reality is necessarily social.  But the primacy of personal identity is some sense places a severe limitation on any civic communitarianism.  The highest and truest forms of human community can and should resist politicization–and, of course, commodification. 


Monday, December 1, 2008, 4:31 PM

I’m quoting a fairly lengthy portion of our own Peter Lawler’s essay on technology because it does a tantalizing job of raising some fair but serious questions about the limits of Wendell Berry’s — or anyone else’s — dedication to nature as the site of whole persons and whole communities. (And, presumably, whole polities — although maybe Berry’s thought isn’t political enough to really successfully get him there.) To be blunt, Berry on occasion seems to point tellingly toward a vision of the world in which the Land, not the Lord, shall provide. And there is little doubt, as college students sometimes grasp studying Locke, that the Land is a finite and randomly or uncharitably distributed resource. Yet the ‘natural reproduction’ of fruitful human multiplication works directly against that uncharitable finitude — at least until we really do get Lost in the Cosmos. Somehow, for the time being, we need to square the limits of the land with our desire, as bounded earthly beings, for bounded earthly places, and the captivating way in which that desire seems to betoken our very desire for life unbounded.

I could go on, but I’m mostly interested in hearing reflections and reactions around here concerning the below….

A contemporary critic of technology, Wendell Berry, explains that our dogma or “conventional prejudice” today is the uncritical acceptance of the goodness of technological liberation. Our intellectuals and educators mean to prejudice us “against old people, history, parental authority, religious faith, sexual discipline, manual work, rural people and rural life, anything that is local or small or inexpensive.” We are prejudiced against all that is required to acquire moral virtue, to what we must have to subordinate technical means to human ends. We are prejudiced against “settled communities,” against anything that has not been uprooted by the impersonal universalism of technological thinking. But it is only in the routinized and moralized context of such communities that any technology might be viewed as good, as not merely displacing or disorienting human beings for no particular purpose.

Berry agrees with Heidegger that in a technological age those who are best at manipulating others as objects will rule without restraint. Technological democracy tends to bring into existence a new sort of tyrannical ruling class composed of clever and liberated or communally irresponsible merito-crats who employ technology to impose a humanly destructive uniformity on those they rule. These meritocrats—believing maybe more than any prior ruling class that they deserve to rule—are full of contempt for those they control. And they themselves don’t realize the extent to which they are controlled by technological thinking, by a way of thinking that has devalued all standards except wealth and power.

Heidegger and Berry, not without evidence, tend to view America as a sort of technological tyranny in which the unlimited pursuit of money and power that is the result of technological thinking has led the few to lay waste to the communal and moral world inhabited by the many. Technological progress tends to make true or communal democracy almost impossible, as even Tocqueville showed. Berry explains that we Americans characteristically “behave violently” toward the land and particular places because from the beginning we “belonged to no place.” We have regarded the land or nature as an alien or hostile force to be conquered, not as our home. For Berry, what we modern Americans regard as the natural human propensities for wandering and violence are not really so natural at all. Our anxious dissatisfaction can at least be checked by our natural tendency to be bound by habit and familiarity. As even Heidegger says, the existential view that the truth is that we human beings alone have no natural place in particular is not shared by people who have the experience of belonging “deeply and intricately” to some place.

That human beings have to be some place to live and that technology erodes all particular human attachments is true. Beings with bodies have to be somewhere, and all human experience of the universal truth comes through reflection that occurs in the context of particular communities. But it is unclear to what extent that place has to literally be a piece of land; American Indian communities, for example, were often really bands of wanderers. And to some extent or other so too is any Christian community, any community composed of human beings who believe that they are really pilgrims or wayfarers in this world. According to one of the very first modern thinkers, Blaise Pascal, the truth is that human beings exist nowhere in particular. They are miserably contingent and displaced accidents. The truth, in fact, makes us so miserable that we spend most of our lives diverting ourselves from it. The only real remedy for our natural misery, according to Pascal, is believing in a God hidden from natural view. From this perspective, the disorientation we experience in this high-tech world is actually closer to the truth about what we are by nature than is the experience of the Old World peasant.

For Berry, Pascal is simply wrong. Berry seems to believe that we can live well according to nature by becoming deeply rooted in a particular place; we are not wanderers by nature. There is much human experience that supports such a view. But Berry is not simply right; we are different from the birds because most of us self-conscious beings do not accept our deaths serenely. It seems natural for us to fight and to hope to overcome our natural, mortal limits. It seems even noble for us to do so. Our longing for a personal God, winning our liberty by dying courageously, and resisting via technology the nature that is out to kill us all seem to be natural or authentic responses. The truth, surely, is somewhere between Berry and Pascal.

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