Have a Holly Jolly (and Consumerist yet Discerning) Christmas

 

These days, we’re all savvy and jaded enough to see through the misdirection of television commercials. Nonetheless, a passage about advertising in the following video caught my attention. The video is part of a series called The School of Life and summarizes the thought of Frankfurt School philosopher Theodor Adorno. It covers a lot of ground, but it isn’t long. I recommend watching the whole thing, but watch for the bit about advertising, which begins at 4:10.

 

Here's the part that jumped out at me:

“When they’re trying to sell us something, advertisers show us the thing that we really want and then connect it to something we don’t actually need. So we can see an advert showing a group of friends walking on a beach chatting amiably or a family having a picnic and laughing warmly together. These adverts show us these things because they know we crave community and connection, but the industrial economy prefers to keep us lonely and consuming, so at the end of the adverts, we’ll be urged to buy some 25-year-old whiskey or a car so powerful that no road would ever let us legally drive it at top speed.”

Advertisements do many things and one of the things they do is show us something we need in our innermost being in order to sell us something that we don’t need. Coming up with examples is easy, especially in this season when every business and corporation this side of the Industrial Revolution is trying to cash in on Christmas and financial news reports constantly tell us it is our duty to shop in order to drive up holiday sales.

Consider this Coca-Cola commercial:

 

This advertisement is full of much that we all want and need. The words kindness and joy appear in written form. We see young couples holding hands, children playing, families bonding and friends smiling. Everyone looks physically fit. A red balloon takes flight from a vending machine and drifts over a quaint plaza. Christmas gifts fall into strangers’ hands, thereby linking disparate lives against the alienating forces of modern life. The community comes together and marvels, and we are encouraged to share that old Platonic concept the Good.

Which one of us does not want such communion with our fellows? Who would pass up a chance to fall in love again? Which one of us would not like to exude such physical and spiritual well-being? Who among us does not hunger to reclaim the sense of magic we held in our youth? Who would not like to rise like the Charioteer in Plato’s Phaedrus commanding his winged steeds to climb ever higher, leaving the earth below to see with clarity the Forms and even the light of the Good?

Coca-Cola’s marketers show us these things because we need them. And they do this to sell us something no one needs: a carbonated soft drink.

Philosopher Slavoj Zizek talks about Coca-Cola in the documentary The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology (2012):

 

For Zizek, when Coca-Cola offers us “The Real Thing,” it is offering to give us l’objet petit a, the object cause of desire described in Lacanian psychoanalytic theory. The objet petit a is what we think we want, but it doesn’t really exist, so we forever circle but never grasp it. You may think you want that new car, promotion or paramour, but once you have it, are you sated? Of course not. The object cause of desire switches to something else, so you stay driven, struggling for satisfaction that, due to the makeup of our psyche, is impossible.

Pringles is so sly that its classic advertising slogan explicitly states this, keeping the objet petit a in a cycle focused solely on its own product, from chip to chip: Once you pop, you can’t stop.

But are all advertisements merely a satisfying spin on a product that ultimately provides little satisfaction? Isn’t it possible that a product satisfies what its advertisements promise? Here’s a recent commercial for the video game Star Wars Battlefront:

 

Open with palpable estrangement: a man sits bored at his desk dreaming of his childhood. Once upon a time, he and his buddy drew pictures of their action figures, they had lightsaber battles with flashlights, and they dressed up as Star Wars characters for Halloween. Those were the days . . . Then suddenly his buddy shows up in an X-Wing, he busts out of his office, boards his own fighter with its own astromech copilot (R2D2 no less!), and goes to take out some Imperial AT-ATs.

At first, this appears to be no more substantial than the Coca-Cola commercial. On that reading, this commercial offers what you really want--friendship, adventure, a sense of purpose and fulfillment--while actually offering you cheap entertainment.

But wait!

In today’s world, a video game can actually be the medium through which people connect. Through online and cooperative missions, Star Wars Battlefront allows players to meet and play with strangers, or play together with your favorite mop-headed childhood buddy. And while the adventures are all virtual, this has always been the nature of storytelling and takes nothing away from the magic. Star Wars and other franchises are no less inspiring to many than the plays of Euripides once were to Athenians, or Beowulf to the Anglo-Saxons. Star Wars Battlefront isn’t exactly necessary, but it has the potential to facilitate some things we truly need.

I’m more skeptical that a can of Coca-Cola can be as successful at slaking spiritual thirst, but perhaps I’m being too harsh. How many cans of Mr. Pibb have I enjoyed with friends over tabletop RPGs, sharing laughs and having a hell of a time? The beverage was a part of that, a part of our subculture, our fraternity.

As usual, I see the value in multiple perspectives, but that can be a good thing. I guarantee you will watch television this Christmas season, see the same commercials over and over until you want to start chucking nutcracker soldiers at the screen, and spend too much money on crap for yourself and others. In today’s world, you can’t help but be a consumer, which is to say a stooge to the boob tube, but you can also remember to check yourself, see through the haze of price tags and twinkling lights, and seek a holiday experience that holds something more authentic.

 

Voting and the Engine of History

 

Marxists speak of permanent revolution, so it’s only natural that in capitalist America we should have something different: permanent election. The two major parties never cease spouting empty rhetoric and smearing the other side, and what is simply sad the day after one election increases to a farcical fervor as the next approaches. We can understand then if sensible folk--regular folk whose lives are increasingly dominated by labor for diminishing returns--should turn away from the system in exhaustion and cynicism and refuse to vote. In this post, I want to examine this in light of two philosophical concepts.

I just finished reading the novel Seeing by Jose Saramago. It’s election day in the capital, but hardly anyone shows up at the polling stations. When the populace finally does appear, more than 70% of the voters leave their ballots blank. A recall leads to an even higher percentage of blank votes, throwing the government into confusion. The powers that be resort to various dishonest maneuvers and draconian measures, but the people, at least at first, outwit them at every step by refusing the play the government’s game.

In his book In Defense of Lost Causes, philosopher Slavoj Zizek designates the refusal to vote in Seeing as an instance of subtraction. He makes the point that not just any failure to vote equals a political action--laziness or mere cynicism will not suffice--and suggests that the action is fruitless if it doesn’t reach critical mass: 

“So when is subtraction really creative of a new space? The only appropriate answer: when it undermines the coordinates of the very system from which it subtracts itself . . . Imagine the proverbial house of cards or a pile of wooden pieces which rely on one another in such a complex way that, if one single card or piece of wood is pulled out--subtracted--the whole edifice collapses: this is the true art of subtraction." 

The other concept comes to us from the Frankfurt School, which was particularly influential in the mid-20th Century. The philosophers of this group were often skeptical of the very possibility of concrete means of resistance. Critical theory was heavily influenced by Marxism, so capitalism serves as an apt illustration due to its uncanny ability to swallow everything, even opposition, and turn it to its benefit. To take an example from the trends of our own day, capitalism is a driving force behind environmental destruction, so your eco-friendly start-up is only part of the problem.

From Critical Theory: A Very Short Introduction:

“If the totally administered society is truly total, and capable of integrating and domesticating all critical undertakings, then the prospects for political action are dim. Resistance as political practice is a worthless enterprise. The negation is the only available option, and negative dialectics must define the critical enterprise.”

Philosophers before the Frankfurt School envisioned history much the way Hegel did: as a march forward driven by opposing forces. As Hegel is usually summarized, thesis gives rise to an antithesis, which results in a synthesis. This synthesis becomes a new thesis that invites a new antithesis, and so on. This process was seen as the engine of progress leading us all to an ever better world. Thus, in The Communist Manifesto, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels speak of the conflict between feudal lords and serfs as giving rise to the bourgeoisie, which was in turn opposed by the proletariat, preparing the way for a communist utopia--which they saw as the end point of history’s development.

That’s all forward-looking and follows an agenda, but critical theorist Theodor Adorno proposed a negative dialectics that sought to further the negative (the antithesis) for a break with current realities even if the result isn’t positive and doesn’t lead to some synthesis preordained by the existing paradigm. This opens new possibilities that could never have arisen out of the old order. For Adorno and others of the Frankfurt School, that meant greater freedom--not just the freedom to do this or that (e.g., to marry whomever you please, to own a semi-automatic firearm), but freedom that begins in an individual’s consciousness.

Call it deep liberation.

Apply the basic idea of negative dialectics to American politics. If the main dueling forces are the Republicans and Democrats, then a vote for either party is a vote for the status quo that is the synthesis they generate. To break the cycle and be free of the system’s constraints, you must undercut the whole triad, the whole power structure. You might attempt this by refusing to vote.

Some individuals intend to do just that in the upcoming presidential election.  On Twitter, I have seen the hashtag #NoVote2016. Those who use it say they will not vote because none of the candidates represent what in their minds would constitute a substantive change. Even a candidate like democratic socialist Bernie Sanders (running as a Democrat), whose platform is further left than we’re accustomed to seeing from a major candidate, is unfit in their eyes because on some issues he holds close to the status quo. For example, they say he does not address race issues satisfactorily and that he sides with Israel in its occupation of Palestine. They also do not like the way he would continue America’s military presence around the world, including the use of drones, albeit in a more judicious manner.

When sticking points are at stake, I can understand and respect why someone would choose not to participate in the system, but I would strongly encourage them to rethink this.

I would feel better about not voting in 2016 if it would make a statement, but it won’t. For most of my life, voter turnout in federal elections has been in the 30-50% range. In the 2014 midterm elections, it was 36.3%. In Japan, voter turnout in the same decades has been around 50%-70%. A presidential election in France can hit 80%. Suppose #NoVote2016 catches on spectacularly and drops the percentage of voters to 18%, half the rate in 2014. The powers that be will not care. They don’t want to hear from you anyway. Hell, the GOP has been pushing voter suppression measures for years. Our legislators are a class all their own and the less they have to worry about what the riffraff in the street has to say, the better for their interests.

Thus, this subtraction will not constitute a positive act. And it remains highly questionable as negative dialectics, because negative dialectics itself is highly questionable. Even the philosophers of the Frankfurt School were unsure of its efficacy--and critics were even more skeptical. Can doing nothing really have much of an effect, and if not, what is the point?

Can we, then, imagine a positive difference within the dynamics of the election? Considering that many of the people promoting #NoVote2016 are somewhere on the left, the answer is no. By refusing to cast their votes for candidates on the left, they play into the hands of the right--which tends to pull together better. You think things are bad for progressive causes now, give the country to the next Ronald Reagan or George W. Bush and see how you like things then. That’s setting America back another decade, which equals more suffering for more people. Historically, a common failing of the radical left has been that its methods for helping people often involve hurting more people in the meantime until its final objectives are reached, until the perfect order arrives.

And how often does that happen?

I guess that makes me a proponent of the “lesser of two evils” approach, which some view as spineless and naïve. Whereas the Frankfurt School was often intensely skeptical of the possibility of change and the #NoVote2016 crowd is in my opinion driven by idealism, I have come to value the gradualism of American pragmatism, which doesn't demand sweeping changes to the social order overnight--much less the initiation of an ideal order--but rather struggles to make continuous smaller changes. Surely this is what the word progressive originally meant.

If the GOP’s vision of America is yours, by all means vote for Republican candidates, but otherwise find others to vote for so they can support your aims. My own choice is to support Bernie Sanders now--despite not finding him perfect--because of his commitment to the working class, and later I will grit my teeth and support Hillary Clinton as a strategic maneuver to prevent a Jeb Bush presidency--but there are other candidates out there. No candidate is flawless, but some can deliver, if not perfection in our time, then at least progress in our time.

The powers that be can control the airwaves, ignore your tweets, crack down on your protest, and try to influence your vote, but they still have to count your vote. Don’t miss your opportunity to cast it.