n dark
times hard-pressed people frequently fall into cynicism and,
ultimately, nihilism. An infectious despair can persuade
many citizens to accede to authoritarianisms of various
stripes. But some exceptionally hardy spirits nevertheless
manage to generate hope - moreover, hope of a progressive
kind. Given recent events, from 9/11 to Iraq to Katrina,
idealism seems long gone and hope nearly extinct but,
fortunately, Russell Jacoby comes along to reclaim some hope
by mounting a rousing defense of Utopian moments throughout
history. Starting with the Greek notion of a “Golden Age,”
visionaries always have promised to end our social ills if
only their transformative religion, economic or cultural
agendas were enacted. Plato, for example, sketched a society
based on supposedly perfect justice via imposition of a
system of social ranking to insure each person received what
s/he was due. The catch is that this supremely ordered
Republic was run by philosopher kings, without a trace of
popular input. This particular platonic idea always has a
lot of traction, justifying top-down rule ranging from
extinct dynasties to Leo Strauss and the neo-cons’ version
of elitism.
From the
affluent, peaceful and tolerant ‘ideal society,’ first
dubbed Utopia by Thomas More, to the erotic and culinary
pleasures of Fourier to the industrial era schema of
Bellamy, Utopians are typically seen as foolish dreamers at
best, or, at worst, as totalitarian murderers. How should we
sensibly imagine Utopia now? For Jacoby, a Utopia must
envision a society that promotes “peace, ease, plenty,
equality, leisure and pleasure . . . linked brotherhood and
communal work.” If so, what is to be done to realize it?
Jacoby takes us on an exciting intellectual journey through
Western thought, and some Muslim thinkers like Qutb too
(whose fundamentalist visions are hardly Utopian). Jacoby’s
Herculean task is to defend an “iconoclastic” tradition that
usually is disinclined to give detailed blueprints, but
prefers to critique what is wrong with actually existing
society.
Jacoby
begins with a robust critique of “anti-utopians” who have
conflated utopianism with 20th Century
totalitarianisms in which torture and mass murder are
justified to achieve vile ends. A central aim of his
analysis is to refute prominent “anti-utopians” Karl Popper,
Jacob Talman, Hannah Arendt and Israel Berlin. In their
youth Popper and Arendt had been sympathetic to socialism,
but following the rise of Stalin and Hitler, they
erroneously equated Fascism and Communism with utopianism,
and utopianism with totalitarianism. Much like More, the
anti-Utopians repudiated an optimistic vision they once
embraced. But, while they had a total revulsion against
Nazism, they equated Fascism and Communism as massive
deformations of modernity and, for Arendt, of “radical
evil”. (At Eichmann’s trial, evil was demoted, in one
controversial form, to “banality”.) Ironically, after the
second world war, they concentrated their critical energies
on Marxism and Communism rather than on recently defeated
Fascism. (This focus may be due the fact that scholars enjoy
the history of ideas and as Arendt argued, Fascism had few
serious intellectual antecedents and little legitimation.)
Utopians of any kind were implicitly Marxists and, as such,
rendered as fools, totalitarians or both - and easily
dismissed.
Jacoby
rejects this conflation of Fascism and Communism into a
single totalitarian form, and denies that it represents a
utopian vision. He argues that the mass violence of the
conflicts of the 20th century stemmed instead
from racist/ethnic, nationalist imperialist, and/or
religious sectarian agenda, not from Utopian dreams of peace
and plenty gone awry. In no way could a Utopian vision
embrace domination, genocide and war, racial purity,
xenophobia or the supremacy of a particular religion. Jacoby
finds precious little that is remotely Utopian in Stalin’s
Soviet Union, Hitler’s Nazism, Pol Pot’s Kampuchea or
Milosevic’s greater Serbia.
Nevertheless, the equation of utopianism with Nazi or
Russian totalitarianism has become the “received wisdom” of
scholars and politicians. This of course suits elites who
can claim there is nothing better than their current
policies – and any redistribution of wealth and/or power was
demonized and rejected. TINA universalized portrays any
alternatives as discredited Utopian schemes reeking of
totalitarianism. Stalin’s perversions of Marxism are used to
discredit Marx’s genuine Utopian vision. Instead we should
“think small” and celebrate democratic piecemeal reforms.
Yet Utopias are not reformist enterprises; the human project
can aim for more than better garbage pick up, universal
education or health care delivery. Utopian vision can
inspire actual reforms, but the result is not a Utopia. A
Scandinavian Social Democracy, replete with tolerance of
social and sexual diversity might be vastly preferable to
the current (imploding) vision of Bush’s Evangelical
Christianity, corporate control and imperialism, but the
Nordic societies are not Utopias.
Jacoby
argues that the classical texts of Huxley and Orwell were
not simple anti-Utopian treatises as taught in most American
high schools and colleges. Rather, these authors attempted
to point out certain inherent dangers in modern societies.
For Huxley, the consumerism of Fordist America enabled
privatized hedonism to become a means of social control.
Shopping malls, real and virtual, dispense new forms of
Soma. (Marcuse would later argue that “repressive
de-sublimation” displaced critical thought and sustained
domination.) Post Fordist America has not only witnessed a
consumerism on steroids, but steroids as consumer goods.
Orwell feared the potentials of total domination by the
State, but Orwell was a life-long socialist who was
concerned that his work was used to discredit socialism. We
might well note that the Bush administration, more than any
other, has embraced “double speak”, blatant lies and
permanent war [on terror] as a justification for policy.
Jacoby is
equally critical of “blueprint” Utopians who spell out
architectural designs, spatial allocations, dress styles and
diet requirements as well as daily schedules for work, play,
dining, sleep and even sex. He argues that the prescribing
of elaborate details and regulations of what people must do
in their everyday life to achieve “freedom” and personal
fulfillment is an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. To
rigidly organize a society through dictatorial schemes
cannot a Utopia make-no matter how affluent its people or
how often they copulate. But even that tradition became
exhausted insofar as it has become more difficult to imagine
the future. In response to the growing regulation of the
“disenchanted” modern world, romanticism not only flourished
but, in subtle ways, influenced a number of thinkers.
For Jacoby, the essence of
Utopianism is “iconoclasm,” rooted in the biblical
commandment against uttering the name of God or making
graven images of God. “Ye shall make no idols nor graven
image” (Lev.26:1). This injunction against representation of
the unknown, articulated by Maimonides, was a way of
resisting the modern tendency toward visualization. This
legacy had a strong influence on the work of
Karl Marx, Theodor Adorno, Walter
Benjamin, Ernst Bloch, and especially Martin Buber and
Gerson Scholem whose work resurrected the Kabala, the
mystical tradition in Judaism, and Gustav Landauer, a
messianic Utopian who refused to spell out the details of
what that Utopia might look like. Rather, he rejected a
“cold, spiritless” Marxism as product of steam technology
and instead chose a “poetic vision” of creativity,
enthusiasm, harmony and solidarity. The iconoclast
“vision”, unlike the sterile blueprint version, might easily
lend itself to ephemeral dreams, but instead, it attempt to
do no more than imagine the conditions in which a Utopia
might take shape.
It was not
accidental that the anti-utopians were largely Jewish and in
some ways responding to the anti-Semitism of Hitler and
Stalin. So too were the “iconoclastic Utopians” influenced
by their cultural roots of Messianic Judaism and its hopes
for the return of the Messiah - no matter what secular
directions their work had taken them. For Bloch, Jews were
motivated by a Utopian quest. Just as Buber saw mystical
Judaism as a “pathway to Utopia”, his friend Gerson Scholem
claimed that messianism was like an “anarchic breeze” of
uncertainty, Jacoby hopes his message acts as the utopian
“anarchic breeze” that animated Adorno, Benjamin, Block or
Marcuse whose secular messianism is a more recent expression
of the modern, acculturated Jew. In this way, Jacoby sees
the “iconoclastic” tradition rooted in the legacies of
Jewish thought, including the warning of the prophets, as
articulated by secular Jews.
The
protestors and breakers of images would have us “hear” the
future but not see it - lest any concrete depiction stifle
what might more imaginatively be.
Jacoby argues that “iconoclastic” utopians” foster a
political imagination that offers genuine hope and
possibility rather than the puritanical order of “blueprint”
Utopians - even when it is sexually free. The iconoclastic
tradition is critical of existing social arrangements,
especially those that sustain domination, fragment the
social and thwart human development and freedom. This theme
is clear throughout the Frankfurt School’s tradition of
critiques of capital, Instrumental Reason (technocratic
logic), authoritarianism, the culture industries,
consumerism and “one dimensional thought”. Instead they
promise freedom, “real fellowship” and creative fulfillment,
though they are not sure of the forms that will take. Thus
they are more likely to spell out what is wrong with the
current world than offer any kind of picture of what a
future world might look like. They reject icons.
Besides
Jewish mysticism, certain strains
of German romanticism influenced the iconoclast’s
notions of Utopia - bordering on the mystical and spiritual.
In Bloch’s work for example, while hope is rooted in the
Freudian theory of dreams as wish fulfillments, his analyses
of folk tales, music and stories hint at basic themes of
freedom and equality.
Utopian thought yearns for the future, but will not chart
the shape the future society will take. Yet at the same
time, that vision must be shaped by legacies of the past and
realities of the present; containing pain, frustrations and
hope. In Bloch’s Freudian view the hope for the future is
rooted in early childhood experiences. Early frustrations
endure as desires for gratifications denied yet found in
dreams and imaginaries that represent wish fulfillments.
Jacoby suggest that Utopian dreams are rooted in childhood
imaginations, though as Horkhiemer warn, modernity conspires
to snuff Utopian dreams. Moreover, unlike dreams, Utopias
are shared and offer promises of actual realization. But
such Utopias are not likely to be perfect, rather they are
times and places that wisely accommodate the imperfections
of people and their societies.
Picture
Imperfect is a joy to read and an inspiration. His is a
first rate mind, highly conversant with the religious,
philosophical, intellectual and political traditions that
inform the varieties of Utopian visions, including the
anti-Utopian views. (It made me want to read Popper, Arendt,
Buber etc. again.) A short review can hardly address many
of the questions he raises about religion, culture,
politics, language and representation. Yes there are certain
warranted criticisms. Jacoby clearly noted that Marx was a
Utopian, and an “iconoclastic” one at that. But there is a
uncomfortable truth here and that “truth” must be
considered. How did it happen that the move from the realm
of necessity to freedom took a detour to Stalin’s gulags,
purges and murders? Much the same question might be asked of
Mao and his “cultural revolution” and “great leap backward.”
While Jacoby justifiably critiques Arendt, Berlin and
Popper, he needed to examine what led to implosion and
deformation of the Utopian moment of Marx. Even Arendt moved
from her earlier position on “radical evil” to a meditation
on its banality, no less horrible for that. While leftists
might be sympathetic with Jacoby’s analysis, we would like
to see more of his take on why things went amiss.
Jacoby
argued that anti-utopian thought, as well as the
“iconoclastic” Utopians, were distinctively Jewish, and the
distinctly messianic themes of the “iconoclasts”. But the
line from Plato to More was hardly Jewish, nor were the
French philosophes or German idealists and romantics whose
hopes and fears of the Enlightenment also shaped Utopian
thought. Jacoby practically suggests that the critiques of
anti Utopian thought, as well as the iconoclasts were
reserved for the chosen people. For a scholar critical of
the Nazis, such sectarianism, even if benign, can be
disconcerting. One can argue that there are Utopian
discourses in other religious traditions. Indeed many
Christian sects oppose war, poverty and human degradation.
For many of the secular left, the plurality of religious
traditions is often lumped together and reduced to nothing
but Evangelical Christianity. It might be further noted that
many fundamentalists share the same critique of modernity as
does the secular left. As Thomas Franks cogently argued, the
folks in Kansas, and other places that supported W, are
facing real pain, but secular politics does not speak a
language they can understand so as to explain the causes of
their suffering. They seek a “better world” but expect it
either to follow the Rapture or blossom in the next life. To
be sure their “better world” seems more like a “blueprint”
Utopia, overburdened with rules, regulations and
prohibitions that deny the freedom and fulfillment Utopias
promise. (And perhaps what worse, would end sex as we know
it.)
The present
age of cynicism and withdrawal from the society is not
conducive to Utopian thought. What is left of the left is
highly fragmented. The narcissism of “petty political
differences” often precludes a united stance so as to weaken
all. Similarly, the demoralized academic left has had to
weather a number of storms beginning with the
marginalization of leftists from the disciplinary
mainstreams. The fall of the USSR was alleged to discredit
Marx and Utopianism. This has led many academics to question
the legitimacy of the academic left. Moreover, the late and
not very great postmodern fad rejected any kind of grand
narratives as totalizing, which in turn left little space
for Utopian imaginaries of a just world and good life.
Finally, while progressive academics may support social
movements, most such movements seek limited reforms rather
than the “better world [that] is possible” as proclaimed by
the WSF. Still, such movements proclaim goals of freedom,
equality, democracy, justice and plenty that do remind us of
the realities of the present and the possibilities of that
better future.
While we
might well despair, and disdain Utopian visions, I would
argue that there are countertrends. The Social Forum
movement, while hardly the motor of world transformation,
nevertheless represents a growing social force and a growing
space where Utopian aspirations can be expressed. We can see
how in the face of neo-liberal imperialism, aka American
domination, a variety of left movements have sprung up and
indeed, now color Latin American politics. Chavez and his
Bolivarian revolution many not be Utopian, but turning oil
profits into schools, hospitals and clinics does provide a
better life for ordinary people in Venezuela. I would note
that the excesses of Bush’s religious zeal, matched only by
his incompetence and ineptness from 9/11 to Katrina,
prompted a mobilization of progressive forces. When three to
four hundred thousand people protested the Iraq war in
Washington, it was invisible in the American MSM, but widely
covered on the various alternative news sources available on
the Internet. Might this be the dawning of an age of
idealism? It is too early to judge, but if it should
happen, then surely a future historian will see that one
reason this happened was the work of Russell Jacoby. As he
warns us, “without a utopian impulse, politics turns pallid,
mechanical, and often Sisyphean; it plugs leaks one by one,
while the bulkheads give way and the ship founders. To be
sure, the leaks must be stanched. Yet, we may need a new
vessel, an idea easily forgotten as the waters rise and the
crew and passengers panic.” But Jacoby gives us what
Benjamin promised, "Only for the cause of those who have no
hope is hope given us."