By Lisandro Claudio
Friday, July 01, 2016
On the surface, it would seem that intellectuals have
nothing to do with the rise of global illiberalism. The movements powering
Brexit, Donald Trump and Third-World strongmen like Philippine president
Rodrigo Duterte all gleefully reject books, history and higher education in
favor of railing against common enemies like outsiders and globalization. And
you’ll find few Trump supporters among the largely left-wing American
professoriate.
Yet intellectuals are accountable for the rise of these
movements—albeit indirectly. Professors have offered stringent criticisms of
neoliberal society. But they have failed to offer the public viable
alternatives. In this way, they have promoted a political nihilism that has set
the stage for new movements that reject liberal democratic principles of
tolerance and institutional reform.
Intellectuals have a long history of critiquing
liberalism, which relies on a “philosophy of individual rights and (relatively)
free markets.” Beginning in the 19th century, according to historian Francois
Furet, left-wing thinkers began to arrive at a consensus “that modern liberal
democracy was threatening society with dissolution because it atomized
individuals, made them indifferent to public interest, weakened authority, and
encouraged class hatred.”
For most of the 20th century, anti-liberal intellectuals
were able to come up with alternatives. Jean-Paul Sartre famously defended the
Soviet Union even when it became clear that Joseph Stalin was a mass murderer.
French, American, Indian, and Filipino university radicals were hopelessly
enamored of Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution in the 1970s.
The collapse of Communism changed all this. Some leftist
intellectuals began to find hope in small revolutionary guerrillas in the Third
World, like Mexico’s Subcomandante Marcos. Others fell back on pure critique.
Academics are now mostly gadflies who rarely offer
strategies for political change. Those who do forward alternatives propose ones
so vague or divorced from reality that they might as well be proposing nothing.
(The Duke University professor of romance studies Michael Hardt, for example,
thinks the evils of modern globalization are so pernicious that only worldwide
love is the answer.)
Such thinking promotes political hopelessness. It rejects
gradual change as cosmetic, while patronizing those who think otherwise. This
nihilism easily spreads from the classroom and academic journals to op-ed pages
to Zuccotti Park, and eventually to the public at large.
For academic nihilists, the shorthand for the world’s
evils is “neoliberalism.” The term is used to refer to a free market ideology
that forced globalization on people by reducing the power of governments. The
more the term is used, however, the more it becomes a vague designation for all
global drudgery.
Democratic politics in the age of neoliberalism,
according to Harvard anthropologists Jean and John Comaroff, is “something of a
pyramid scheme: the more it is indulged, the more it is required.” They argue
that our belief that we can use laws and constitutional processes to defend our
rights is a form of “fetishism” that is ultimately “chimerical.”
For the University of Chicago literary theorist Lauren
Berlant, the democratic pursuit of happiness amid neoliberalism is nothing but
“cruel optimism.” The materialist things that people desire are “actually an
obstacle to your flourishing,” she writes.
According to this logic, we are trapped by our own
ideologies. It is this logic that allows left-wing thinkers to implicitly side
with British nativists in their condemnation of the EU. The radical website Counterpunch, for example, describes the
EU as a “neoliberal prison.” It also views liberals seeking to reform the EU as
“coopted by the right wing and its goals—from the subversion of progressive
economic ideals to neoliberalism, to the enthusiastic embrace of neoconservative
doctrine.”
Across the Atlantic, Trump supporters are singing a
similar tune. Speaking to a black, gay, college-educated Trump supporter,
Samantha Bee was told: “We’ve had these disasters in neoconservatism and
neoliberalism and I think that he [Trump] is an alternative to both those
paths.”
The academic nihilists and the Trumpists are in agreement
about a key issue: The system is fundamentally broken, and liberals who believe
in working patiently toward change are weak. For the Portuguese sociologist
Boaventura de Sousa Santos, “indifference” is the “the hallmark of political
liberalism.” Since liberals balance different interests and rights, Santos
writes, they have no permanent friends or foes. He proposes that the world
needs to “revive the friend/foe dichotomy.” And in a profane way, it has:
modern political movements pit Americans against Muslims, Britain against
Europe, a dictatorial government against criminals.
Unfortunately, academic anti-liberalism is not confined
to the West. The Cornell political scientist Benedict Anderson once described
liberal democracy in the Philippines as a “Cacique Democracy,” dominated by
feudal landlords and capitalist families. In this system, meaningful reform is
difficult, since the country’s political system is like a “well-run casino,”
where tables are rigged in favor of oligarch bosses. Having a nihilist streak
myself, I once echoed Anderson when I chastised Filipino nationalists for
projecting “hope onto spaces within an elite democracy.” Like Anderson, I
offered no alternative.
The alternative arrived recently in the guise of the
Duterte, the new president of the Philippines. Like Anderson and me, Duterte
complained about the impossibility of real change in a democracy dominated by
elites and oligarchs. But unlike us, he proposed a way out: a strong political
leader who was willing to kill to save the country from criminals and corrupt
politicians.
The spread of global illiberalism is unlikely to end
soon. As this crisis unfolds, we will need intellectuals who use their
intellects for more than simple negation—professors like the late New York
University historian Tony Judt, who argued that European-style social democracy
could save global democracy. Failing that, we need academics who acknowledge
that liberal democracy, though slow and imperfect, enables a bare minimum of
tolerance in a world beset by xenophobia and hatred. For although academics
have the luxury of imagining a completely different world, the rest of us have
to figure out what to do with the one we have.
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