Unthinkable thoughts? An oxymoron of a concept surely, at least it appears that way to anyone who takes the idea of personal liberty seriously. Any attempt to explain how it became the cornerstone of moral education in the West would be too complex to include in this meditation, but one critical aspect of that potential explanation is simple enough: How a child reacts the first time he catches an adult in a self-serving lie, or more properly, how the child perceives the social significance of that lie, can be far more important than most people think in determining what kind of adult that child will grow up to be.
For reasons that should be obvious to anyone who’s more than an occasional visitor to Dogtown, I’ve long considered unthinkable thoughts to be a false category, one established by tyrants for the sole purpose of controlling the allegiances of their subjects. Given that I’m a more or less direct intellectual descendent of the Enlightenment, my response to them is to quote Immanuel Kant:
Sapere aude! Habe Mut, dich deines eigenen Verstandes zu bedienen! ist also der Wahlspruch der Aufklärung.
Dare to know! Have the courage to avail yourself of your own understanding! is therefore the motto of the Enlightenment.
Unworthy thoughts, on the other hand—those that take the path of least emotional resistance, and in doing so escape into the world before being considered in the full light of all our mental faculties—are real enough. Despite what our pious god botherers demand, they are also common enough and harmless enough in a comparative sense not to be judged as sins by some chimerical Father in Heaven, or some equally chimerical Freudian superego. In fact, to the extent that such thoughts prioritize honesty over our all too common tendency to create a falsely competent persona, they can actually be a blessing.
Which is not to say that they can’t also be embarrassing. Yesterday I deleted my most recent post here—not because I found it indefensible, but because I found it irrelevant. Angry screeds against the enshittification of our public discourse, the arrogance of our billionaire know-it-alls, the ignorant viciousness of our sociopathic president and his followers, and the sorry state of our geopolitics in general are everywhere one looks these days. Adding to them can be tempting, but succumbing to that temptation can all too easily turn into one of those disabling addictions that prove nearly impossible to overcome.
Relying on a purely rhetorical social media-style carping as our sole defense against the lunatics responsible for our current political, economic, and social agonies is in some fundamental sense a fool’s errand, As far as I can see, it isn’t actually helping anyone. By most accounts the crisis we currently find ourselves in as a society is overdetermined to an unprecedented degree. How we think about it is dependent on which aspects of its driving force we believe to be most vulnerable to intervention, and what kinds of interventions we believe are within our power to organize and carry out.
The sad fact is that the current worldwide rise of fascism is itself as much the effect of a crisis as it is the cause of one. Fear is arguably at the root of what’s driving it. The pace of technologically driven social, political, and economic change, the effect on our collective consciousness of an always awake Internet—along with the equivalence of fact and fantasy, truth and lies that it engenders—are more than many people can bear without constructing a comforting narrative they hope will somehow sustain their sense of self. As far as these unfortunates are concerned, the fact that their narrative bears little if any resemblance to the truth is a feature, not a bug. The truth can be painful. An end to that pain is what they’re after.
This is fertile ground for sociopathic influencers, and we’re as up to our eyeballs in them now as we were in the 1930s. Tucker Carlson tells us it’s manly to tan one’s bollocks. Elon Musk, the latest incarnation of Oswald Spengler, declares empathy to be the true cause of the Decline of the West. Donald Trump announces a list of thoughts you may not think if you want a paycheck or any financial help from the federal treasury. Steve Bannon gets out of jail, dusts off his persona, and embarks on a tour of the world’s dictators, checking to see if they fancy him as the Johnny Appleseed of a new fascist international. (tl;dr, they don’t. Elon Musk is prettier, and hands out more money.)
Despite the sheer weirdness of all this nonsense, laughing at it seems uncomfortably like laughing at Auschwitz. What we’re facing seems to me to be something metaphorically akin to the exothermic chemical reactions high school chemistry teachers used to demonstrate by dropping a pencil eraser-sized nub of metallic sodium into a beaker of distilled water. Once such a reaction gets going, the energy it produces makes it self-sustaining. Stopping it before the reagents are completely consumed can only be accomplished by removing energy from the reaction faster than it’s being produced. Depending on the scale of the reaction in question, this can be virtually impossible to accomplish.
Metaphors admittedly have their limits, but if the history of our previous century is anything to go by, calling the rise of a 21st century fascist international an exothermic political reaction seems to fit what I see developing. The more vulnerable bourgeois democracies and their ruling economic classes in the 1930s were so terrified of a socialist international which demanded a more equitable distribution of the wealth their economies produced that they backed a fascist international instead. The irony is that despite how disastrously that turned out, they now look as though they’re preparing to do it again. I’m no Nostradamus, but if I had to assess current geopolitical probabilities, I’d say that it’s very unlikely that their choices this time are going to let us off any more easily than they did at the end of the 1930s. YMMV.
