The connection between imperialism and fascism has been frequently made, by Trotsky and Césaire among others. So it’s always helpful to see pro-imperialists making use of classic fascist tropes. Not that it’s all that uncommon; another obvious example is Nick Cohen et al’s curious belief in a powerful elitist group of “bruschetta-eating liberals,” a translation of the US right’s “latte liberals,” by which they mean “Jews.” It’s a little bit puzzling; I mean, I guess the objective fascism of supporters of imperialism is overdetermined, but I’m still a bit surprised to see it manifested so clearly in the discourse of people who believe themselves to be anti-fascists. Is ideology really so simple and so effective?
The minor flap over the Hilary Clinton Walmart videos seems like an interesting example of the role of cynicism in ideology. My first response, like I imagine a lot of people’s, was standard-issue cynicism: she’s being paid by Walmart, of course she’s going to enthuse about them; it doesn’t mean she really believes it. But of course this response precisely misses the point. Clinton’s feigned enthusiasm is an accurate expression of her position because it doesn’t reflect her “true” internal beliefs. That is, her willingness to pretend to be a devoted fan of capital is due to the fact that she actually is a devoted fan of capital.
This, I take it, is the point of Žižek’s idea of overidentification. When I first heard of it, I had trouble distinguishing it from an idea of taking people seriously in order to expose their hypocrisy, an extraordinarily dull liberal position. No, ideology is not about hypocrisy or lies, a gap between what people say and what they really believe. On the contrary, it is the belief in this gap which is ideological, and an ideology that functions so effectively we rarely notice it.
Now I’m not going to deny that Kyra Phillips looks super cute in her faux-military olive fatigues. But isn’t there something just plain weird about the willingness of journalists to, still, after five years of clear and documented bullshit, identify with the military? If it was just the stylish caps, I wouldn’t mind, but it leads to horribly fawning interviews like this one (skip forward to 18 minutes or so in to see how bad it can get):
It’s not uncommon for people on the left to see neoliberalism as anti-political, the criticism being that neoliberalism attempts to impose market mechanisms, thereby destroying the political. Here for instance is Daniel Bensaïd:
Hannah Arendt was worried that politics might disappear completely from the world…. Today we are confronted with a different form of the danger: totalitarianism, the human face of market tyranny. Here politics finds itself crushed between the order of financial markets—which is made to seem natural-and the moralising prescriptions of ventriloquist capitalism.
The solution is then held to be an assertion of politics against markets, in which markets are subordinated to the political system.
But doesn’t this supposed solution just reproduce the terms of the problem? The distinguishing feature of politics here, as the reference to Arendt makes clear, is that it is a sphere of agency, of subjective intervention. But that gets construed as the intervention of politics into markets. Markets provide the negative definition of politics, because they are objective, mechanical, unfree; but that is to say that this contrasting of politics with markets doesn’t question the naturalness of markets at all. In fact, it requires that markets be natural, so that they can provide the raw material on which the artifice of politics can work. Bensaïd (and he is hardly alone; he follows Lenin here, among others) is highly amivalent; he objects to capitalism, but using a concept of the autonomy of the political which is depends on the continued existence of capitalism.
How can we think about this differently? How can we understand politics and the market without separating the two? How can we understand freedom and necessity in a way that doesn’t split the world into a free and a necessary part, condemned to always remain circling around one another? The answer is presumably, as ever, “communism”; but what exactly does that mean?
Much as I dislike George Bush, I don’t think he’s actually a Nazi. Which makes it doubly odd that he’s such a fan of facist-sounding language (the one that really does my head in is calling America “the homeland”). It seems like a strange kind of cultural illiteracy: Bush adopts certain authoritarian tropes from fascism without quite knowing where they come from. Now, though, we have a much more entertaining version of a sort of similar thing: the Obama campaign’s Maoist æsthetic, which is reason enough to hope that Obama gets the nomination.
Why is Obama using a variant of the Freedom Road Socialist Party‘s logo? Why do posters made by his supporters so often use the two-tone woodblock stylings of 1960s third-worldism? Not, I fear, because Obama actually is a Maoist, but perhaps because of a similar kind of historical amnesia to that of Bush. In the case of the Obama campaign, the æsthetic comes from a vague memory of a time when revolutionary political change really did seem possible, which never quite rises to the level of actually knowing what that movement for change was actually about.
