Posts Tagged ‘Futurism’

/rant on

Remember all those folks in the weeks and days preceding election day on November 4, 2020, who were buying guns, ammo, and other provisions in preparation for civil breakdown? (No one known personally, of course, and gawd no not actually any of us, either; just them other others who don’t read blogs or anything else.) Well, maybe they were correct adopting the precautionary principal (notably absent from a host of other perils besetting us). But as of this writing, nothing remotely resembling widespread disruption — feared by some, hotly anticipated by others — has developed. But wait! There’s still time. Considering Americans were set up by both political parties to distrust the outcome of the presidential race no matter which candidate claimed to have prevailed, we now face weeks or months of legal challenges and impatient formation of agitators (again, both sides) demanding their candidate be declared the winner (now, dammit!) by the courts instead of either official ballot-counters or the liberal-biased MSM. To say our institutions have failed us, and further, that political operatives all the way up to the sitting president have been openly fomenting violence in the streets, is a statement of the obvious.

Among my concerns more pressing than who gets to sit in the big chair, however, is the whipsawing stock market. Although no longer an accurate proxy of overall economic health or asset valuation, the stock market’s thoroughly irrational daily reaction to every rumor of, say, a vaccine for the raging coronavirus, or resumption of full economic activity and profitability despite widespread joblessness, renewed lockdowns, and a massive wave of homelessness in the offing due to bankruptcies, evictions, and foreclosures, none of this bodes well for the short-term future and maintenance of, oh, I dunno, supply lines to grocery stores. Indeed, I suspect we are rapidly approaching our very own Minsky Moment, which Wikipedia describes as “a sudden, major collapse of asset values which marks the end of the growth phase of a cycle in credit markets or business activity” [underlying links omitted]. This is another prospective event (overdue, actually) for which the set-up has been long prepared. Conspiratorial types call it “the great reset” — something quite different from a debt jubilee.

For lazy thinkers, rhyming comparisons with the past frequently resort to calling someone a Nazi (or the new Hitler) or reminding everyone of U.S. chattel slavery. At the risk of being accused of similar stupidity, I suggest that we’re not on the eve of a 1929-style market crash and ensuing second great depression (though those could well happen, too, bread lines having already formed in 2020) but are instead poised at the precipice of hyperinflation and intense humiliation akin to the Weimar Republic in 1933 or so. American humiliation will result from recognition that the U.S. is now a failed state and doesn’t even pretend anymore to look after its citizens or the commonweal. Look no further than the two preposterous presidential candidates, neither of whom made any campaign promises to improve the lives of average Americans. Rather, the state has been captured by kleptocrats. Accordingly, no more American exceptionalism and no more lying to ourselves how we’re the model for the rest of the world to admire and emulate.

Like Germany in the 1930s, the U.S. has also suffered military defeats and stagnation (perhaps by design) and currently demonstrates a marked inability to manage itself economically, politically, or culturally. Indeed, the American people may well be ungovernable at this point, nourished on a thin gruel of rugged individualism that forestalls our coming together to address adversity effectively. The possibility of another faux-populist savior arising out of necessity only to lead us over the edge (see the Great Man Theory of history) seems eerily likely, though the specific form that descent into madness would take is unclear. Recent history already indicates a deeply divided American citizenry having lost its collective mind but not yet having gone fully apeshit, flinging feces and destroying what remains of economically ravaged communities for the sheer sport of it. (I’ve never understood vandalism.) That’s what everyone was preparing for with emergency guns, ammo, and provisions. How narrowly we escaped catastrophe (or merely delayed it) should be clear in the fullness of time.

/rant off

I’ve been holding in mind for five months now the article at this link (an informal interview with neuroscientist and psychologist Oliver J. Robinson), waiting for conditions when I could return to forms of media consumption I prefer, namely, reading books, magazines, and long-form journalism. When I try to read something substantive these days, I find myself going over the same paragraph repeatedly, waiting in vain for it to register. Regrettably, the calm, composure, and concentration needed for deep reading has been effectively blocked since March 2020 as we wait (also in vain) for the pandemic to burn itself out. (I could argue that the soul-destroying prospect of industrial collapse and near-term human extinction is having the same effect for much longer.) So my attention and media habits have been resignedly diverted to crap news gathering, mostly via video, and cheap entertainments, mostly streaming TV (like everyone else, though others may complain less). The lack of nourishment is noticeable. Considering we’re only weeks away from the U.S. presidential election, stress levels are ratcheting up further, and civil authorities prepare for “election riots” (is that new term?), which I can only assume means piling violence upon violence under the pretense of keeping-the-peace or law-and-order or some other word string rendered meaningless now that the police are widely acknowledged to be a significant contributors to the very problems they are meant to address. These unresolved issues (pandemic, police violence, civil unrest) give rise to pathological anxiety, which explains (according to Robinson, disclaimers notwithstanding) why it’s so hard to read.

To say we live in unprecedented times is both obvious and banal. Unique stresses of modernity have led multiple times to widespread madness and conflict, as well as attempts to recapture things lost in previous shifts from other styles of social organization. Let me not mince words regarding what’s now happening: we’re in an era of repudiation of the Enlightenment, or a renewed Counter-Enlightenment. I’ve stated this before, and I’m not the only one making this diagnosis (just learned it’s a rather old idea — I’m always late to the party). For instance, Martin Jay’s essay “Dialectic of Counter-Enlightenment” appears to have been floating around in various forms since 2011. Correlation of this renewal of Counter-Enlightenment fervor with literacy seems clear. Despite basic literacy as a skill being widely improved worldwide over the past two centuries, especially in the developing world, deep literacy is eroding:

Beyond self-inflicted attention deficits, people who cannot deep read – or who do not use and hence lose the deep-reading skills they learned – typically suffer from an attenuated capability to comprehend and use abstract reasoning. In other words, if you can’t, or don’t, slow down sufficiently to focus quality attention – what Wolf calls “cognitive patience” – on a complex problem, you cannot effectively think about it.

Considering deep literacy is absolutely critical to clear thinking (or critical thought, if you prefer, not to be confused with the The Frankfurt School’s critical theory discussed in Jay’s essay), its erosion threatens fundamental institutions (e.g., liberal democracy and the scientific method) that constitute the West’s primary cultural inheritance from the Enlightenment. The reach of destruction wrought by reversing course via the Counter-Enlightenment cannot be overstated. Yet many among us, completely unable to construct coherent ideas, are rallying behind abandonment of Enlightenment traditions. They’re ideologues who actively want to return to the Dark Ages (while keeping modern tech, natch). As with many aspects of unavoidable cultural, social, environmental, and civilizational collapse, I have difficulty knowing quite what to hope for. So I won’t condemn retrograde thinking wholly. In fact, I feel empathy toward calls to return to simpler times, such as with German Romanticism or American Transcendentalism, both examples of cultural and aesthetic movements leading away from the Enlightenment.

Long before these ideas coalesced for me, I had noted (see here, here, and here) how literacy is under siege and a transition back toward a predominantly oral culture is underway. The Counter-Enlightenment is either a cause or an effect, I can’t assess which. At the risk of being a Cassandra, let me suggest that, if these times aren’t completely different from dark episodes of the past, we are now crossing the threshold of a new period of immense difficulty that makes pathological anxiety blocking the ability to read and think a minor concern. Indeed, that has been my basic assessment since crafting the About Brutus blurb way back in 2006. Indicators keep piling up. So far, I have a half dozen points of entry to process and digest by other cultural commentators exploring this theme, though they typically don’t adopt wide enough historical or cultural perspectives. Like the last time I failed to synthesize my ideas into a multipart blog series, I don’t have a snazzy title, and this time, I don’t even have planned installment titles. But I will do my best to roll out in greater detail over several blog posts some of the ways the Counter-Enlightenment is manifesting anew.

Supporting the Vietnam war was dumb. Supporting the Iraq invasion after being lied
to about Vietnam was an order of magnitude dumber. Supporting any US war agendas
after being lied to about Iraq is an order of magnitude even dumber than that.
—Caitlin Johnstone

Upon rereading, and with the advantage of modest hindsight, I think I got it exactly correct in this 5-year-old blog post. Even the two brief comments are correct. More specifically, the United States is understood to be the sole remaining military superpower following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Never mind that numerous countries count themselves members of the nuclear club (cue Groucho Marx joke) and thus possess sufficient power to destroy the world. Never mind that the U.S. failed to win the Korean War or the Vietnam War (the two major U.S. military involvements post-WWII), or in fact any of numerous 21st-century wars (undeclared, de facto, continuing). Never mind that the U.S. has been successful at multiple smaller regime-change actions, often on the back of a civil war instigated by the U.S. and purposefully designed to install a puppet leader. And never mind that the capitalist competition for control of economic resources and capture of perpetual growth is being won handily by China. Nope, the U.S. is no longer the only superpower but is instead busy transitioning from superpower (military and economic) to failed state. Or in the language of that old blog post, the U.S. is now a geopolitical Strong/Stupid hybrid but is actively deploying stupidity in a feverish play to be merely Stupid. The weirdest aspect, perhaps, is that it’s being done right in front of god and everybody, yet few bother to take notice.

It’s no stretch to assert that in the U.S. in particular (but also true of nearly every regime across the world), we’re piling stupidity upon stupidity. If I were inclined to go full conspiracy like some QAnon fool, I’d have to say that the power elite have adopted a deep, 3D-chess strategy that means one of two possible things using the Rock-Paper-Scissors power dynamic algorithm (which, unlike tic-tac-toe, produces a winner) modified and inverted to Strong-Stupid-Smart: it’s either (1) very Smart of them to appear so Stupid, granting victory (against all appearances) over Strong (but only Strong in a three-legged contest), or (2) they reject the algorithm entirely in the misguided belief that nuthin’ beats stoopid. That second option would indeed be entirely consistent with Stupid.

Take for instance three looming issues: the pandemic (and its follow-on effects), the U.S. presidential election (ugh, sorry, it’s unavoidable), and climate change. They loom threateningly despite being well underway already. But with each, we’ve acted and behaved very stupidly, stunningly so I would argue, boxing ourselves in and doing worse damage over time than if we had taken proper steps early on. But as suggested in a previous blog post, the truth is that decision-makers haven’t really even tried to address these issues with the purpose of solving, resolving, winning, remedying, or ameliorating entirely predictable outcomes. Rather, issues are being either swept under the rug (ignored with the futile hope that they will go away or resolve themselves on their own) or displaced in time for someone else to handle. This second option occurs quite a lot, which is also known as kicking the can down the road or stealing from the future (as with sovereign debt). What happens when there’s no more future (for humans and their institutions, anyway) because it’s been squandered in the present? You already know the answer(s) to that question.

Fantasies and delusions rush into the space
that reason has vacated in fear of its life.

—James Howard Kunstler

Since I first warned that this blog post was forthcoming, conditions of modern American life we might have hoped would be resolved by now remain intransigently with us. Most are scrambling to adjust to the new normal: no work (for tens of millions), no concerts, no sports (except for events staged for the camera to be broadcast later), little or no new cinema (but plenty of streaming TV), no school or church (except for abysmal substitutes via computer), no competent leadership, and no end in sight. The real economy swirls about the drain despite the fake economy (read: the stock market a/k/a the Richistan economy) having first shed value faster than ever before in history then staged a precipitous taxpayer-funded, debt-fueled recovery only to position itself for imminent resumption of its false-started implosion. The pandemic ebbed elsewhere then saw its own resumption, but not in the U.S., which scarcely ebbed at all and now leads the world in clownish mismanagement of the crisis. Throughout it all, we extend and pretend that the misguided modern age isn’t actually coming to a dismal close, based as it is on a consumption-and-growth paradigm that anyone even modestly numerically literate can recognize is, um, (euphemism alert) unsustainable.

Before full-on collapse (already rising over the horizon like those fires sweeping across the American West) hits, however, we’ve got unfinished business: getting our heads (and society) right regarding which of several competing ideologies can or should establish itself as the righteous path forward. That might sound like the proverbial arranging of deck chairs on the RMS Titanic, but in an uncharacteristically charitable moment, let me suggest that righting things before we’re done might be an earnest obligation even if we can’t admit openly just how close looms the end of (human) history. According to market fundamentalists, corporatists, and oligarchs, Socialism and Marxism, or more generally collectivism, must finally have a stake driven through its undead heart. According to radical progressives, Black Lives Matter, and Antifa, fascism and racism, or more generally intolerance, deserve to be finally stamped out, completing the long arc of history stalled after the Civil Rights Era. And according to barely-even-a-majority-anymore whites (or at least the conservative subset), benefits and advantages accrued over generations, or more generally privilege, must be leveraged, solidified, and maintained lest the status quo be irretrievably lost. Other factions no doubt exist. Thus, we are witnessing a battle royale among narratives and ideologies, none of which IMO crystallize the moment adequately.

Of those cited above, the first and third are easy to dismiss as moribund and self-serving. Only the second demonstrates any concern for the wellbeing of others. However, and despite its putative birthplace in the academy, it has twisted itself into pretzel logic and become every bit as intolerant as the scourges it rails against. Since I need a moniker for this loose, uncoordinated network of movements, I’ll refer to them as the Woke Left, which signifies waking up (i.e., being woke) to injustice and inequity. Sustained analysis of the Woke Left is available from James Lindsay through a variety of articles and interviews (do a search). Lindsay demonstrates handily how the Woke Left’s principle claims, often expressed through its specialized rhetoric called Critical Theory, is actually an inversion of everything it pretends to be. This body of thought has legitimate historical and academic lineage, so it’s arguable that only its most current incarnation in the Woke Left deserves scorn.

Two recently published books exemplify the rhetoric of the Woke Left: White Fragility (2018) by Robin DiAngelo and How to Be an Antiracist (2019) by Ibram Kendi. Although I’ve read neither book, I’m aware of numerous scathing reviews that point out fundamental problems with the books and their authors’ arguments. Foremost among them is what’s sometimes called a Kafka trap, a Catch-22 because all avenues of argument lead inescapably toward guilt, typically some form of original sin. Convinced they are on the righteous right side of history, Woke Left protesters and agitators have been harassing and physically threatening strangers to demand support for the cause, i.e., compliance. What cause is a good question, considering a coherent program has yet to be articulated. Forcing others to choose either side of a false binary — with us or against us — is madness, but that’s the cultural moment at which we’ve arrived. Everyone must align their ideology with some irrational narrative while being put at risk of cancellation and/or destruction no matter what alignment is ventured.

If things go south badly on the heels of contested election results this fall as many expect — the pump already primed for such conflict — and a second civil war ensues, I rather expect the Woke Left to be the first to fail and the other two, each representing the status quo (though different kinds), to be in an extended battle for control of whatever remains of the union. I can’t align with any of them, since by my lights they’re all different kinds of crazy. Sorta makes ya wonder, taking history as an indicator, if a fourth or fifth faction won’t appear before it’s a wrap. I don’t hold out any hope for any faction steering us competently through this crisis.

I had at least two further ideas for this third part of a series, but frankly, given the precipitous turn of events over the past month or so, nothing feels appropriate to write about just yet other than the global pandemic that has staggered society, reeling from being forced apart from each other and the way of life to which we are adapted being suddenly ripped out from beneath us. As the voiceover at the beginning of one of the Lord of the Rings movies intones rather soberly, “The world … has changed ….” That was my assessment here, though I was really thinking of the post-truth public sphere.

Many are already admitting that we will never be able to go back to what once was, that what broke will stay forever broken. And while the eventual response may be interpreted in sweet-lemon style as a reform opportunity or beckon call to greatness, I daresay a far more likely result is that mass death, sickness, and ruin will create a critical mass of desperate people not so willing to stay hunkered down waiting for the extended crisis to pass. Indeed, the bunker mentality already imprinted on our minds as we cringe before the next in a series of injurious blows can’t be expected to endure. Folks will take to the streets with all their stockpiled guns and ammo, seeking something, anything to do, rather than dying quietly, meekly, alone, at home. The metaphor of being pummeled into submission or to death is probably incorrect. Right now, we’re still only partway up one of those parabolic curves that ultimately points skyward. Alternatively, it’s a crescendo of pain that overwhelms until nothing functions anymore.

If surviving historians are able to piece together the story some time hence, one possibility will be to observe that the abundance we sorta enjoyed during two centuries of cheap energy did not develop into anything resembling an enlightened style of social organization that could be sustained or indeed even prepare us adequately for inevitable black swan events. Such discontinuities are entirely predictable by virtue of their inevitability, though precise timing is a fool’s errand. Natural disasters are the obvious example, and despite organizations and agencies scattered throughout all levels of government, we’re found flat-footed nearly every time disaster strikes. This global pandemic is no different, nor is the collapse of industrial civilization or runaway climate change. The current crisis is the first major kick in the teeth that may well cascade domino-style into full-on collapse.

As the crisis deepens, top leaders are often found to be worthless. Where is Pence, appointed more than a month ago to coordinate a coronavirus task force? It’s quite unlike a major political figure to do his or her work quietly and competently without media in tow. Even incompetence gets coverage, but Pence is nowhere to be seen. Must be self-quarantining. Some leaders are even worse than worthless; they actively add to the misery. Mainstream media may also have finally gotten hip to the idea that hanging on every insipid word uttered by that gaping chasm of stupidity that is our president is no longer a ratings bonanza to be tolerated in exchange for fruitless fact-checking missions. I fantasize about press events where correspondents heckle and laugh the fatuous gasbag (or his apologists) off the podium. Regrettably, there seems to be no bottom to the humiliation he can withstand so long as attention stays riveted on him. Perhaps the better response to his noisome nonsense would be stone silence — crickets.

This unwritten blog post has been sitting in my drafts folder since October 2019. The genesis, the kernel, is that beyond the ongoing collapse of the ecosystem, the natural world that provides all the resources upon which we humans and other organisms rely for life and survival, all other concerns are secondary. Now 5–6 months later, we’re faced with a short- to mid-term crisis that has transfixed and paralyzed us, riveting all attention on immediate pressures, not least of which is ample supplies of paper with which to wipe our asses. Every day brings news of worsening conditions: rising numbers of infection; growing incidence of death; sequestering and quarantining of entire cities, states, and countries; business shutdowns; financial catastrophe; and the awful foreknowledge that we have a long way to go before we emerge (if ever) back into daylight and normalcy. The Age of Abundance (shared unequally) may be gone forever.

Are we mobilizing fully enough to stop or at least ameliorate the pandemic? Are our democratically elected leaders [sic] up to the task of marshaling us through the (arguably) worst global crisis in living memory? Are regular folks rising to the occasion, shouldering loss and being decent toward one another in the face of extraordinary difficulties? So far, my assessment would indicate that the answers are no, no, and somewhat. (OK, some municipal and state leaders have responded late but admirably; I’m really thinking of the early executive response that wasn’t). But let me remind: as serious as the immediate health crisis may be, the even larger civilizational collapse underway (alongside the current extinction process) has not yet been addressed. Sure, lots of ink and pixels have been devoted to studies, reports, books, articles, speeches, and blog posts about collapse, but we have blithely and intransigently continued to inhabit the planet as though strong continuity of our living arrangements will persist until — oh, I dunno — the end of the century or so. Long enough away that very few of us now alive (besides Greta Thunberg) care enough what happens then to forestall much of anything. Certainly not any of the real decision-makers. Collapse remains hypothetical, contingent, theoretical, postulated, and suppositional until … well … it isn’t anymore.

While we occupy ourselves indoors at a social distance for some weeks or months to avoid exposure to the scourge, I’d like to believe that we have the intelligence to recognize that, even in the face of a small (by percentage) reduction of global human population, all other concerns are still secondary to dealing with the prospect (or certainty, depending on one’s perspective) of collapse. However, we’re not disciplined or wizened enough to adopt that view. Moreover, it’s unclear what can or should be done, muddying the issue sufficiently to further delay action being taken. Fellow blogger The Compulsive Explainer summarizes handily:

We have been in an emergency mode for some time, and are now just recognizing it. This time it is a virus that is killing us, but we have been dying for a long time, from many causes. So many causes, they cannot be enumerated individually.

So for the near term, life goes on; for the farther term, maybe not.

As we prepare to hunker down for the Long Emergency (using Kunstler’s apt term), there has been a veritable stampede for the exits, which takes multiple forms as the U.S. anticipates an exponential rise in the viral epidemic, roughly a week behind Italy’s example. It wouldn’t surprise me to see curfews and/or martial law enacted before long. But then, I’m an avowed doomer and have expected something wild and woolly to transpire for some years now. It was always futile to predict either what or when with any specificity. The number of possible scenarios is simply too great. But the inevitability of some major disruption was (to me at least) quite obvious. Whether the COVID-19 pandemic develops into a megadeath pulse remains to be seen. I cannot predict any better than most.

In the meantime, panic buying of toilet paper (an irrational essential I joked about here) and prophylactics such as surgical masks and alcohol swabs; widespread cancellation of concerts, sports events, school sessions, and church services; press releases by every public-facing corporate entity as to their hygienic response to the virus; crazy fluctuations in the U.S. and international stock markets; and exhortations to stay home if at all possible attest to the seriousness of the threat. The velocity of the stock market crash in particular points to a mad stampede to get out before being crushed. Our collective response seems to me exaggerated, but perhaps it’s necessary to forestall the worst-case scenario or letting things run rampant. It’s possible that quarantines and a major economic slowdown will do more damage than the virus, making the cure worse than the disease. That’s a hypothetical to which we will probably never know the answer with certainty, though the United Kingdom may be running that very experiment. Also, Guy McPherson suggests that a 20% reduction in industrial activity will be enough to trigger an abrupt rise in global average temperature further negatively affecting habitat. However, it’s a Catch-22 precisely because sustained industrial activity is already destroying habitat.

In nature, there are several familiar waves far too powerful to stop or control: earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurricanes. I suppose we should now acknowledge another: pandemic diseases. While it’s sensible to seek to understand what’s happening even as it happens, I can’t help but to wonder whether resistance is futile and letting the wave crash over us is roughly equivalent to before-the-fact mobilization. Pop psychology would have us do something, not nothing, as an antidote to despair, and indeed, abandoning people to their fates has a callous feel to it — the sort of instrumental logic characteristic of tyrants. I’m not recommending it. On the upside, after the initial panic at the sight of the approaching wave, and shortly after the wave hits, we humans demonstrate a remarkable capacity to set aside differences and pull together to offer aid and comfort. We rediscover our common humanity. Maybe Mad Max-style dystopias are just fiction.

The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new
cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.

Antonio Gramsci

 As a kid, I was confused when during some TV drama I heard the phrase “The king is dead; long live the king!” I was interpreting events too literally: the king had just died, so how could his subjects proclaim for him long life? Only when age awarded me greater sophistication (probably not wisdom, though) did I then realize that the phrase connotes the end of one era and the start of another. Old regent dies; new regent assumes power. We’re in the midst of such as transition from one era to the next, though it isn’t marked clearly by the death of a leader. Indeed, when I launched this blog in 2006, that was what I sensed and said so plainly in the About Brutus link at top, which hasn’t changed since then except to correct my embarrassing typos. I initially thought the transition would be about an emerging style of consciousness. Only slightly later, I fell down the rabbit hole regarding climate change (an anthropogenic, nonlinear, extinction-level process). I still believe my intuitions and/or conclusions on both subjects, but I’ve since realized that consciousness was always a moving target and climate change could unfold slowly enough to allow other fundamental shifts to occur alongside. No promises, though. We could also expire rather suddenly if things go awry quickly and unexpectedly. At this point, however, and in a pique of overconfidence, I’m willing to offer that another big transition has finally come into focus despite its being underway as I write. Let me explain. In his book America: The Farewell Tour (2018), Chris Hedges writes this:

Presently, 42 percent of the U.S. public believes in creationism … [and] nearly a third of the population, 94 million people, consider themselves evangelical. Those who remain in a reality-based universe do not take seriously the huge segment of the public, mostly white and working-class, who because of economic distress have primal yearnings for vengeance, new glory, and moral renewal and are easily seduced by magical thinking … The rational, secular forces, those that speak in the language of fact and reason, are hated and feared, for they seek to pull believers back into “the culture of death” that nearly destroyed them. The magical belief system, as it was for impoverished German workers who flocked to the Nazi Party, is an emotional life raft. It is all the supports them. [pp. 50–51]

That’s where we are now, retreating into magical thinking we supposedly left behind in the wake of the Enlightenment. Call it the Counter-Enlightenment (or Un-Enlightenment). We’re on this track for a variety of reasons but primarily because the bounties of the closing Age of Abundance have been gobbled up by a few plutocrats. Most of the rest of the population, formerly living frankly precarious lives (thus, the precariat), have now become decidedly unnecessary (thus, the unnecessariat). The masses know that they have been poorly served by their own social, political, and cultural institutions, which have been systematically hijacked and diverted into service of the obscenely, absurdly rich.

Three developments occurring right now, this week, indicate that we’re not just entering an era of magical thinking (and severely diminishing returns) but that we’ve lost our shit, gone off the deep end, and sought escape valves to release intolerable pressures. It’s the same madness of crowds writ large — something that periodically overtakes whole societies, as noted above by Chris Hedges. Those developments are (1) the U.S. stock market (and those worldwide?) seesawing wildly on every piece of news, (2) deranged political narratives and brazenly corrupt machinations that attempt to, among other things, install select the preferred Democratic presidential candidate to defeat 45, and (3) widespread panic over the Covid-19 virus. Disproportionate response to the virus is already shutting down entire cities and regions even though the growing epidemic so far in the U.S. has killed fewer people than, say, traffic accidents. Which will wreak the worst mayhem is a matter of pointless conjecture since the seriousness of the historical discontinuity will require hindsight to access. Meanwhile, the king is dead. Long live the king!

That man is me. Thrice in the last month I’ve stumbled headlong into subjects where my ignorance left me grasping in the dark for a ledge or foothold lest I be swept into a maelstrom of confusion by someone’s claims. This sensation is not unfamiliar, but it’s usually easy to beat back. Whereas I possess multiple areas of expertise and as an autodidact am constantly absorbing information, I nonetheless recognize that even in areas where I consider myself qualified to act and/or opine confidently, others possess authority and expertise far greater than mine. Accordingly, I’ve always considered myself a generalist. (A jack of all trades is not quite the same thing IMO, but I decline to draw that distinction here.)

Decisions must inevitably be made on insufficient information. That’s true because more information can always be added on top, which leads to paralysis or infinite regress if one doesn’t simply draw an arbitrary line and stop dithering. This is also why I aver periodically that consciousness is based on sufficiency, meaning “good enough.” A paradox exists between a decision being good enough to proceed despite the obvious incompleteness of information that allows for full, balanced analysis, if fullness can even be achieved. Knowledge is thus sufficient and insufficient at the same time. Banal, everyday purchasing decisions at the grocery store are low risk. Accepting a job offer, moving to a new city, and proposing marriage carry significant risks but are still decisions made on insufficient information precisely because they’re prospective. No way of knowing with certainty how things will turn out. (more…)

From the end of Paul Street’s They Rule: The 1% vs. Democracy (2014):

Those on the radical left who worry that pursuing a Green New Deal and leading with the environmental issue means giving up on the struggle against the 1% for a democratically transformed “world turned upside down” can rest easy. The green transformation required for human survival will be bright rouge. With its inherent privileging of private profit and exchange value over the common good and social use value, its intrinsic insistence on private management; its inbuilt privileging of the short-term bottom line over the long-term fate of the earth and its many species, with its deep-sunk cost investment in endless quantitative growth and the carbon-addicted way of life and death, and with its attachment to the division of the world into competing nations and empires that are incapable of common action for the global good, capitalism is simply inconsistent with the deep environmental changes required for human survival. “Green capitalism” is an oxymoron. It is naïve to think that the green transformation required for civilization’s survival can take place without an epic confrontation with — and defeat of — the concentrated wealth and power enjoyed by the capitalist elite and its profits system. [p. 197]