Showing posts with label civil apathy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label civil apathy. Show all posts

Friday, 2 March 2018

Tomorrow Is Cancelled.

          Why no hordes on the streets, why no peasants with pitchforks, why no revolution? It is not as if the death and destruction is invisible, or the exploitation unfelt and unseen, or the gross inequality in living standards hidden, it is all there glaringly obvious for all to see. We are awash with information, we see through the lies and illusions, we accept that the propaganda portrayed world and the real world we, the ordinary people live in, are universes apart. Still the vast majority conform to the biased rules, turn up at work, pay their taxes, and run to the ballot box to make their X in the appropriate spot, believing that somehow, this time it will be different. It is a puzzling phenomenon.
       The Invisible Committee have already produced two excellent thought provoking pamphlets/booklets, the first, The Coming Insurrection, the second one, To Our Friends, they have recently come up with a third, Now. Again, interesting, insightful, and thought provoking. The following is an extract from the chapter called Tomorrow Is Cancelled.
 
 

TOMORROW IS CANCELLED
         All the reasons for making a revolution are there. Not one is lacking. The shipwreck of politics, the arrogance of the powerful, the reign of falsehood, the vulgarity of the wealthy, the cataclysms of industry, galloping misery, naked exploitation, ecological apocalypse—we are spared nothing, not even being informed about it all. “Climate: 2016 breaks a heat record,” Le Monde announces, the same as almost every year now. All the reasons are there together, but it’not reasons that make revolutions, it’s bodies. And the bodies are in front of screens. One can watch a presidential election sink like a stone. The transformation of “the most important moment in French political life” into a big trashing fest only makes the soap opera more captivating. One couldn’t imagine Koh-Lanta with such characters, such dizzying plot twists, such cruel tests, or so general a humiliation. The spectacle of politics lives on as the spectacle of its decomposition. Disbelief goes nicely with the filthy landscape. The National Front, that political negation of politics, now that negation of politics on the terrain of politics, logically occupies the “center” of this chessboard of smoking ruins. The human passengers, spellbound, are watching their shipwreck like a first-rate show. They are so enthralled that they don’t feel the water that’s already bathing their legs. In the end, they’ll transform everything into a buoy. The drowning are known for that, for trying to turn everything they touch into a life preserver. This world no longer needs explaining, critiquing, denouncing. We live enveloped in a fog of commentaries and commentaries on commentaries, of critiques and critiques of critiques of critiques, of revelations that don’t trigger anything, other than revelations about the revelations. And this fog is taking away any purchase we might have on the world. There’s nothing to criticize in Donald Trump. As to the worst that can be said about him, he’s already absorbed, incorporated it. He embodies it. He displays on a gold chain all the complaints that people have ever lodged against him. He is his own caricature, and he’s proud of it. Even the creators of South Park are throwing in the towel: “Its very complicated now that satire has become reality. We really tried to laugh about what is going on but it wasn’t possible to maintain the rhythm. What was happening was much funnier that what could be imagined. So we decided to let it go, to let them do their comedy, and we’ll do ours.” We live in a world that has established itself beyond any justification. Here, criticism doesn’t work, any more than satire does. Neither one has any impact. To limit oneself to denouncing discriminations, oppressions, and injustices, and expect to harvest the fruits of that is to get one’s epochs wrong. Leftists who think they can make something happen by lifting the lever of bad conscience are sadly mistaken. They can go and scratch their scabs in public and air their grievances hoping to arouse sympathy as much as they like; they’ll only give rise to contempt and the desire to destroy them. “Victim” has become an insult in every part of the world.
Read the complete chapter HERE:
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