Why We Can’t Have Nice Things
On the Use and Abuse of History for Life
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No shepherd, and one herd! Everyone wants the same; everyone is the same: whoever feels different goes willingly into the madhouse.
“Formerly, all the world was insane” — say the subtlest of them, and blink .
— Zarathustra
I never tire of quoting this passage from the prologue of German philosopher Frederich Nietzsche’s 1887 epic poem, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Its central conceit — that the ideology of progressive enlightenment has made the past entirely alien and unimaginable to us — underlies, either explicitly or implicitly, all my writings. We have become morally obtuse: believing ourselves to be radically tolerant and open-minded, when in fact we have never been more closed-off and damning to beliefs other than our own. Ways of life not perfectly commensurate with our historically exceptional, 21st century moral thinking (radical egalitarianism) have no meaning for us, and are seen as nothing more than specimens of human folly, ignorance and arrogance.
For especially egregious examples of this habit, there is no better place to be found than the British digital philosophy magazine Aeon. Their mission, they claim, is “to create a sanctuary online for serious thinking” and “thought-provoking ideas” — all under the rubric of “a cosmopolitan worldview” (aka the ideology of progressive enlightenment). What this means in practice: an in depth study of all the reasons the past was mad and wrong; all the ways that it fails to live up to the mores of 21st century British liberalism. While I am a subscriber to their newsletter and frequently read and benefit from many of their pieces, it is rather in spite of, not because anything they publish is particularly “thought-provoking” — although I do learn much. By reading these pieces, I gain an ever-deeper insight into the underlying mental pathology of our age.
This disorder was on grand display in one of their recent pieces, “Suffragettes and Slaves,” by Ana Stevenson, a historian of “women, politics, and social movements.” What prompted her reflections was the recent centenary celebration of the British Representation of the People Act of 1918 that first legalized women’s suffrage. Her goal, though, was not to praise this momentous event, but to attempt to problematize our understanding of it.
By highlighting some of the more questionable rhetorical flourishes made by the leaders of the women’s suffragist movement, and the overall “exclusionary character of the global campaign for women’s suffrage,” she hopes that we will thus be able to bring greater “nuance” to future commemorations. This iniquity was best (or rather, worst) embodied for her in a slogan used by activist Emmeline Pankhurst — I would rather be a rebel than a slave — which Stevenson denounces because, when “seen from a 21st-century viewpoint,” it betrays the “incontrovertible evidence of the racism and classism in the history of feminism.”
It is hard to know where to even begin pointing out all the things wrong with an interpretation like Stevenson’s. What is one to do with someone who both believes that we have now thankfully progressed to a higher, more enlightened time, but also wants to condemn the past — which by her own definition could not have been as enlightened — while simultaneously condemning those who facilitated the progress she so loves and benefits from? How do you reply to someone who so willfully ignores the necessarily exaggerated and overwrought character of political rhetoric that is required to move people? I mean, should Marx not have declared in the Communist Manifesto, “Workers of the World, unite. You have nothing to lose but your chains!” because it was insensitive to those wearing literal chains? Could there not perhaps be a spectrum of slavery: wherein the horrors of race-based chattel slavery lies at one end and, say, the present day degradation of women in Saudi Arabia lies at the other, under which all forms of it could rightly be condemned for what they clearly are — subjugation?
There seems to me to be at least three fundamental misunderstandings about the human condition under girding our current corrupt historical hermeneutic.
- The different necessities required of open societies and closed societies.
- The existence of hierarchies in all civilizations throughout most of history.
- The use of standards created by “white people” to now retroactively declare those same white people evil.
Open vs. Closed Societies (Exclusion): The word “cosmopolitan,” with which Aeon so proudly emblazons itself, is composed of two ancient Greek words: kosmos, world or universe, and polis, city or country — combined to mean, “citizen of the world.” While this is not necessarily a new concept (the first self-declared “citizen of the world” was Diogenes the Cynic who lived in the 4th century BC), the vast majority of human beings have no more adopted this way of life than Diogenes’ other habits of living in a barrel or forsaking all earthly pleasures and honors. Rather, most have thought of themselves as citizens of a particular society, bounded by the beliefs and borders of their ancestors and immediate surroundings. One of the most extreme example of this is ancient Sparta, but all societies have some tendency towards closedness, in order to maintain its shape and character.
What the closed society dictates is to see the world in stark terms of us and them, inside and outside. And those on the inside receive considerations that cannot even be imagined by the majority of its citizens for those on the outside. These types of societies are thus by nature “exclusionary.” This is how almost all societies till the advent of “globalization” have traditionally thought of themselves (see the history of Japan for another particularly potent case). This is how you ensure the finite number of goods and privileges that exist in the world will go to those you most care about, and how hate can grow out of love — and vice versa.
It is only from the heights of the most bountiful and connected — i.e. the most privileged — time in human history that someone could even conceive of so breathlessly condemning those who lived by the dictates of this once universally ubiquitous way. And, incidentally, it is this moral blind spot that has caused all the “racists” of Europe and America to recently rise up against their cosmopolitan masters — an event as inconceivable to this class as those of the “insane” past that they have so thoughtlessly severed themselves from. I’m sure there is no connection there…
Hierarchy (Classism): I recently returned from a trip to Paris and London. As a dutiful American tourist, I made my way to all the customary sights one ought to attend if you ever happen to find yourself fortunate enough to make it over there: the Louvre, Notre Dame, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the British Museum, Napoleon’s tomb, etc. Because of America’s deep-seated belief in equality, one will never experience these types of sights here — the closest (which do not even come close at all) being a couple of Gilded Age churches or libraries scattered throughout the nation or perhaps the Library of Congress in DC.
The best word I can find to even attempt to describe these places is overwhelming. The grandeur and sense of awe they invoke, the feeling that you are almost staring directly into the face of the divine — or perhaps its proxy here on earth — is something completely alien to us Americans. And increasingly, it is becoming equally foreign to the neighbors of these very buildings: Londoners and Parisians themselves.
What makes these achievements so incomprehensible to us westerners today is that they all required very precise distinctions of hierarchy that enabled a society to have the will to build such grand and seemingly useless things. These sorts of undertakings necessarily divert energy away from the “utilitarian” values we purport to cherish today, and redirect it towards those of beauty and nobility. Previously, though, throughout most of history, throughout most of the world, a commitment to “leveling” was never a priority. The Taj Mahal, the Great Pyramids, the Acropolis, all were built upon the notion that the noble should have pride of place in the world over the material concerns of the many.
Yet, I do not believe that it is simply out of morbid curiosity that the Louvre and Versailles (two of the grandest of grand buildings in Europe) continue to each receive 10 million visitors annually. Rather, it is because of our seeming abiding need to feel this sense of awe and a physical manifestation for us to focus it upon. This, by the way, is the only reason that “conservatism” continues to hold out against the brave new world we have been trying so hard to create for the last 200+ years. It is also the rasion d’etre behind all of Nietzsche’s writings. Something deep inside us seems to refuse to bow to the spirit of equality and homogeneity that would make these sorts of majestic feats impossible. And as my list of examples above illustrates, this is not merely a western phenomenon — but a universal one. If one cannot come to terms with this fact, one cannot truly understand human nature.
“White” Values (Racism): “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” When Thomas Jefferson wrote these words in 1776, it was the first time in human history that such “insane” notions as equality and happiness had ever been proposed as the legitimate basis of an actual government. It was also the first time, as Alexander Hamilton put it, that government was ever attempted to be established by “reflection and choice,” and not merely on “accident and force.” As with Diogenes, these were not the first instances that ideas like these had ever been thought, but it was the first time it was ever sought to put them into action. These were extremely radical statements for the time — and they also happen to be the very basis upon which today’s radical egalitarianism is grounded.
This is the main reason why it is absurd for writers at places like Aeon to so blithely reject our forebears who bravely fought to establish these new priorities. The main problem with a critique like Stevenson’s is not that she wishes to bring up the supposed moral failings of the Suffragettes — their exclusivity, classicism and racism. The problem is that, rather than their great achievements from which we all benefit today, these are the things she believes should take pride of place in our understanding of the past. What would be a much more interesting discussion, though — if one really wished to problematize our view of the past — would be to explore these figures all-too-human frailties, the messiness of human desire, or the irreconcilability of human goods, rather than employing these practically meaningless sociological abstractions as rhetorical bludgeons that, instead, serve only to end conversations.
Ultimately, I am not even criticizing the perspective that these sort of people wish to bring to our conversations today, but rather the tone, the attitude, that accompanies it — the petulance and ingratitude, the complete lack of imagination and empathy, the small-mindedness and specialization, the irrationality and ignorance that they believe to be “enlightenment.”
In an interview with the Australian Historical Association, for a segment on “emerging historians,” Stevenson was asked, “If you could go back to any historical period, where would you go and why?” Her answer is very telling:
If I had the opportunity to time travel back to any historical period, I would attend any significant nineteenth- or twentieth-century women’s rights, feminist, or women’s liberation conference. I would use such a providential opportunity to counsel the white women not to compare themselves to slaves…
Well, guess what? You can’t! The past cannot be changed: there’s no killing baby Hitler; there’s no stopping Franz Ferdinand; there’s no sinking Columbus’ ship or turning back the Isabella.
The past is what it is and we all have to live with that.
History as popularly preached today is a flattening of the world, an unconscionable oversimplification — a deprivation of our souls. You cannot understand the past if you do not at least attempt to first understand what one is studying as it was understood in its own time. This may be impossible. Surely. But you are not actually learning anything new if you do otherwise. All you are doing is merely reinforcing the views and prejudices you already hold. The study of history, at its best, should serve as a handmaiden to philosophic exploration. Looking at the past exclusively with a “21st century viewpoint” does the exact opposite of this.
If achieving greater nuance in our view of the past is truly the goal, as Stevenson and her ilk claim it to be, I cannot think of a more opposed method for cultivating it than the one we currently practice. Nor does it create empathy or fellow-felling, but rather an unearned feeling of superiority — How is this still a thing in [current year]? It is a looking-down-upon anything that is different, not an equal recognition of it. And it certainly is not a love or appreciation for other ways of life.
For there is a secret supposition to all of this: While we may now feel that this position is acceptable when it comes to judging those who have the same pigment as us, we can only delude ourselves for so long as to what this truly means for our relationship with “Others.” Not only does this moral obtuseness apply to our own history, but to the beliefs of any culture that does not equally share our particular notions of “enlightenment.” Dealing with this uncomfortable fact will be the final moral frontier once this awful era of indignation thankfully passes. And it is only a matter of time till the present catches up with the future — probably best we start preparing now.
