Some leftist narratives about war are disempowering

2024-07-26

In a publication for Lefteast titled Who Chooses Wars for Us?, Nora Ugron argues that we cannot have true peace for as long as there is war somewhere:

Who chooses wars for us? What does it mean that somewhere is peace and somewhere is war? Is this still peace? What kind of peace? Whose peace? Is there really peace until there are wars? So what if wars no longer exist? How can we reach worlds without wars? Can we get there? We have to. Once upon a time there was a world of wars. There was.

While I agree with the pacifist sentiment, I struggle to see how we move from the status quo to a conflictless utopia of egalitarian bliss. Part of the problem is with the entire narrative of the more intellectual leftist cycles: it is too academic, too involved in its esoteric language, too far withdrawn from the everyday needs of people, and thus not prepared to engage in governance.

A language of guilt and shame

The notion that unless we are all free nobody is, is a strange one. Not only because its absolutist premise is untenable—nobody has ever been “truly” free, happy, safe, etc.—, but due to the emphasis it places on the collective culpability of even the most impoverished parts of society. How can “we” be happy in the here-and-now where we feel happiness, when some people are miserable in another part of the planet? How can “we” enjoy what we are doing everyday when some economic/political elites among us continue with imperialistic campaigns abroad? Exploitation then becomes a meaningless term: “everybody” is doing it and there is no way to avoid it unless the world is perfected, which it cannot because there are exploiters all around…

It is counter-intuitive to argue that what one feels in the moment is not real. The appeal to consider phenomena far withdrawn from our experience may be well-meaning, but ultimately requires a leap of faith. It asks people to suspend belief about what occurs in their midst and imagine how it feels to be in another setting altogether. The discussion about what is “real” peace, or happiness, or whatnot, turns into a pedantic exercise in pointlessness where, again, words lose their significance.

Bundling up together the vast majority of people with their domestic elites is also suspect. It rests on the assumption that the many have direct control over the few and, therefore, they are acquiescing to whatever bad is happening. In truth, most people are drained of their energy by working all day, struggle to make ends meet or are in a situation where they would be in trouble if they went out of business, and have few resources to influence even the politics of their own neighbourhood. The idea that “we” are guilty because some deranged plutocrat carries out horrible deeds abroad is simply unfair.

The language of guilt and shame leads to a dead-end. It does not give people a vision. There is no hope down that path, as we are pressed to parrot how we are all perpetrators of misdeeds and how this newfound secular original sin of ours makes us equally responsible for the suffering in the world. It is a commentary on politics that is paradoxically divorced from any concrete programmatic action. All it has is a series of virtue signalling gimmicks.

Disconnected from everyday affairs

Parts of the broader left are out of touch with the practicalities of day-to-day politics. They are single-minded about their ideological purity, oblivious to the fact that ideology is useful only to the extent it frames day-to-day decision-making on the political front. Having an impeccable track record on one’s ideological commitments is a selfish obsession that does not yield the desired outcome for society at-large: it only holds together a nucleus of ideologists while other, more practically minded agents, continue to govern and to create further complications for the leftist causes. Unflinching devotion to the letter of one’s ideology is not politics, but a lifestyle few can afford.

I think part of the reason we are witnessing a steady rise of extreme right wing beliefs is because they are putting forth a pro-social agenda that is easy to understand. There are practical ideas therein, such as to assume monetary sovereignty by exiting the Euro, impose protectionist economic measures to relieve local businesses from the chilling effects of globalisation, control borders to instil once again in people a sense of security in their neighbourhood, and the like. Us leftists will, of course, call out the fascist elements where we spot them, though “fascism” as a term no longer is the post-WWII bugaboo it used to be: people will just dismiss the accusation and move on.

There is an inescapable trade-off between security and freedom. A structureless collective nominally grants its members maximum space to express their individuality. Yet therein lies the danger of unencumbered conflicting expressions that can quickly turn nasty. A sense of order, of shared values and agreed upon constraints, of rewards and punishments, is beneficial to the prosperity of a people: it reduces uncertainty, else boosts the sense of safety. Even an anarchic society will need to enact rules on everyday matters such as if one is allowed to play loud music in the early morning hours or, if not, what kind of counter-measures are available and acceptable. There are no human relations without rules, which limit some facets of personal initiative to enable forms of collective experience.

Even in our most libertarian fantasies, we must remember the human animal’s need for safety. It is a visceral feeling that has to be satisfied, no matter the era. People cannot operate with the lingering thought that their immediate surroundings pose a grave danger to them. They will seek to alleviate the uneasiness at all costs. Promoting freedom recklessly is bound to lead to a backlash as fears set in. The balance between security and freedom had better not be neglected. This dynamic extends to the consideration about the needs of the person and their community. Too much individualism weakens social bonds, which in turn increase the risks to society’s safety. Again, a balanced approach is in order.

Understand, not judge

We have to formulate policies not only with pragmatism but also compassion for our fellow citizens. Name-calling the average person for their deplorable (or “deplorable”, depending on what the subject is) beliefs does nothing to address the underlying natural propensities of our kind. If people are unsafe in their milieu, they will seek safety and, once that is a given, will consider whatever secondary ideological sensitivities.

The pace of news outlets and the functioning of social media make it easier to pass judgement on to people without due process. This spills over to the political discourse, which is toxic, absolutist, and akin to the whims of a petulant child. It is hard to suspend judgement, though it is a prerequisite to reach out to people and to meet them where they are.

This appearances-first-everybody-is-unenlightened kind of presumption is part of the reason why the leftist intellectuals are practically apolitical. The guilt and shame characteristic of their outlook is not a winning strategy towards what ought to be the goal: governance. It does nothing to empower people into action. All it achieves is make them feel uncomfortable with themselves as perpetrators of deeds they did not actually have any direct involvement in. At best, this engenders indifference: “what do you expect me to do between the two jobs I have to work at?” citizens will respond. The intellectual who is thus keen to point out whatever frailties in our individual and collective character has the responsibility to also propound a realisable programme for undoing the putative injustice. Otherwise, it is idle talk.

Moralising over collective guilt and blaming everybody for their apparent choices is especially disempowering for people when it has a money dimension to it, because it ignores the financial constraints of those involved. It is easy, for example, to tell someone to eat those opulent “ethical” meals three times a day, but it is harder to understand that the minimum wage does not cover for such a lifestyle. You have to be there to know how it is to struggle with rising costs of living, precarious living conditions, and the absence of a stable job and shelter. Again, these are all matters of safety, broadly understood. The person who has to make tough choices operates on the basis of what is available, not whatever finds currency among trendy thinkers.

Understand what is happening

I am thus interested in understanding the “why” behind people’s actions rather than blaming them for how supposedly horrible their choices are. There is more than meets the eye. Why, for example, is it such a popular topic to close Europe’s borders to unregulated migration? Is it that the voters are just evil and heartless? How come everybody is so bad and only the leftist cultural elites are paragons of virtue? Or maybe there is something there in people’s expressed views which is worth considering? If the opinion-makers cannot sincerely tell the average megacity-dwelling family that it is fine for their young daughter to walk out alone at night, then they are not doing anything to address those people’s concerns. They can label the beliefs of those parents as backward or whatever, though the concerns are there for a reason even though they brushed aside with contempt.

Parts of the intellectual left are inadvertently weaving a narrative of self-inflicted powerlessness masquerading as moral enlightenment. They will point out all those lamentable events that are happening across the globe, but will fail to devise a plausible plan for concerted action. Any vision that does not give us hope and the impetus to fight an even remotely winning battle is ultimately tyrannical. Common folk do find ways to not be trapped in incessant theorising. They are results oriented and expect concrete measures. None of them are concerned about how perfect the policies are, because they understand those unfold in imperfect circumstances, not the optimal conditions of some thought experiment.

There have been wars and there will be wars. We cannot disentangle all the issues at once, but must necessarily focus on something given the limited resources at our disposal. While an internationalist ethos is helpful to appreciate the shared struggles of people and the interconnectedness of our suffering, policies unfold within the existing structures of nation-states and international cooperation. Each country has its own particularities and sensitivities. If we are talking about diversity among people, we have to acknowledge the diversity of cultures as well. Introducing a one-size-fits-all set of talking points imported from America is not a sign of practical policy-making, let alone tolerance.

Accept this imperfect world

Societies cannot afford to wait for the perfect world to be made manifest. Unlike those who are selfish and comfortable enough to obsess about their individual “moral high score”, most people are forced by the circumstances to make compromises. There is no pure world. Some have to put in the work to improve things and get dirty by proceeding through trial and error. The best time to be active is now and the best way to do it is by focusing on everyday affairs.

Europe’s war machine is intertwined with other powerful economic interests that none of us common folk are involved in. To change policies on the military front, we necessarily have to introduce social reforms and concomitant economic measures. Though this requires that we rise to power, hence the need to fight on a platform of actionable measures. Commenting from the sidelines is just that: commenting, not governing. The “no to war” slogan is useful insofar as it hints at a set of initiatives to redistribute the national product and roll back the privileges of the corporate elite.

Returning to the article that inspired me to write this essay, Nora Ugron remarks:

I keep thinking of Ursula K. Le Guin, who said that it seemed impossible for us to end capitalism, but so did the reign of kings… Then I think of Ursula K. Le Guin and her novel The Word for World is Forest. Once upon a time there was a lush green world with many trees. There they called the world forest. And at some point, at the point where we meet the characters in the novel, another world arrives, with machines and science and weapons, to colonize the forest-world. To cut down the trees of the forest-world and enslave the forest people. To kill the forest people. There was no such thing as murder in the forest-world before.[ix] No one killed anyone, there were no wars. Once upon a time there was a world without killing, because from the moment the colonizers arrived with machinery, guns, science and death, there was no such world without killing. And for the forest-world itself to continue to exist, the colonizers must disappear. Thus the people of the forest-world kill the colonizers. It’s hard for them, it’s totally unfamiliar, but something they learn in order to survive. That pretty much ends the story. So far this speculative fiction is actually history. Let’s say our own – but it’s always with the question mark, who is that us….

As someone who is still clearing their land in the mountains of overgrown vegetation to have a safe place to live in, I can assure you that those imaginary forests are not peaceful. Like all other forms of life, plants compete over scarce resources: soil, water, exposure to air and sunshine. But you would never know that if you were not forced to make tough choices…

At any rate, these colourful stories hint at how withdrawn from politics some sections of the political (!?) left are. I have reached a point where I, a leftist at heart, question whether I belong to this broader movement. Sure, the anti-war sentiment is there as are other ideas I did not comment on, though I recognise that it is not intentions that change the world, but actions.