On Conservatism

My thoughts have been straying towards conservatism lately….

Hold on! It’s not what you think.

Before we get into it, I have to tell you what I don’t mean by conservative. What I am talking about almost doesn’t exist anymore. It was killed off by:

Fiscal Conservatism, also known as classical liberalism or libertarianism: The belief that small government is better, that people should fend for themselves, that the individual is primary, and that property rights are basically the only rights. Hayek, Ayn Rand, Milton Friedman. Think Friedman’s Capitalism and Freedom: political freedom is economic freedom. And vice versa. Closely related to…

Political Conservatism: Basically oligarchy. The top should rule and the rest fall in a hierarchy. The State holds absolute power and requires absolute obedience. Nationalism. Militarism. It is interesting that fiscal and political conservatism run together, because the first demands a smaller government, but the second says as long as we don’t cut the police or the military.

Social Conservatism: Woman shouldn’t have control of their bodies. Drug users should be locked up forever. No sex, no alcohol. No fun. Censorship.

Religious Conservatism: Jesus is coming home. Soon. Better clean this place up a bit.

All of these have banded together, but it is easy to see that they don’t really belong together. They have a common enemy. It is sincerely hard to reconcile conservatives who think the government should do nothing and those who think it should enforce the Ten Commandments.

Clearly I am not any of these. Let’s just skip over Religious and Social Conservatism. In terms of politics my general philosophy is anarchistic, which means I believe decision making power should always move from centralized to decentralized forms.

I think libertarianism turns on a philosophical falsehood: that we all should be considered as individual and rational actors. It uses a false state of nature argument, from Hobbes to Nozick. Human beings cannot exist without the supports of society, and the idea that anyone with money is “self-made man” is a fallacy (the “self-attribution” fallacy). This will be expanded at a later date.

What is missing is a kind of conservatism that we don’t see much anymore. I am going to tentatively call it “Toryism,” although Toryism doesn’t exactly cover it. Toryism includes a lot of hierarchism and monarchism which is outdated. You could also call it “traditionalist conservatism,” but again I think it is a concept from another time.

You also have “communitarianism,” which is closer to the mark. Communitarianism is

an ideology that emphasizes the connection between the individual and the community. That community may be the family unit, but it can also be understood in a far wider sense of personal interaction, of geographical location, or of shared history.

My thoughts started coalescing on these lines when I found Grant’s Lament for a Nation in a book store and finally got around to reading it. His argument, in summary, is that the fall of Diefenbaker was the fall of a kind of conservatism that put the collective of Canada first, and a decent into the politics of money and self-interest, tied to the fortunes of America.

It harkens back to a kind of Canadian conservatism that used to be called Red Toryism. Most of the time we think of this now as simply moderate conservatives, but it historically was more than that. As Gad Horowitz argues, in the past, in Canada, it was often easier to move from being a socialist to a Red Tory, and vice versa. The difference being that Red Tories believed in the noblesse oblige that comes from being in a higher strata of society, the idea that it was the job of the higher classes to extend their munificence for the greater good.

In short, both believe in the importance of taking care of the collective, except from different ends of the spectrum. This is most sorrily lacking in current conservative politics. The current dominance of “I got mine so go fuck yourself” neoliberalism is actually a blight on the moral core of society. Part of the death and rebirth of the Canadian Conservative Party was the eradication of the classical Red Tory stance towards an adoption of the American Republican/libertarian position. A world-wide phenomenon I guess.

I have a lot more to say about this, about morality (the importance of virtue ethics and the failure of Enlightenment morality), about the importance of history (the Whiggish failure that sees everything “new” as “best”—again the antagonism between Tories and Whigs), and about technology. But what struck me today is the beginning part of Simone Weil‘s The Need for Roots, which I read on the subway this morning on the way to work.

This first part itself could stand as a counter-argument to libertarianism. Far from the materialist conception, that we only need property and society is there to protect it, Weil notes that we have a number of needs, without which our soul will be sick. In an Aristotelian manner these needs are balanced off of one another, so an excess of one often results in the lack of another. Later in the book she talks how the sick soul leads to uprootedness, and how that leads to things like Nazism.

The needs of the soul are:

Order
Liberty
Obedience
Responsibility
Equality
Hierarchism
Honour
Punishment
Freedom of Opinion
Security
Risk
Private Property
Collective Property
Truth

And the first sentence is itself a blow to modernism, the Enlightenment, and goddamn libertarianism:

The notion of obligations comes before that of rights, which is subordinate and relative to the former. A right is not effectual by itself, but only in relation to the obligation to which it corresponds, the effective exercise of a right springing not from the individual who possesses it, but from other men who consider themselves as being under a certain obligation towards him.

This is Toryism or Communitarianism, and it is missing from our political discussion today.

You left me little notes

You left me little notes
scratched on onion skin
hidden in the pages of every book
purchased
for me
over the years.

They flutter out
drifting
helicoptering like maple seeds
a shock when I turn a page.

Each is the only poem
I ever received
from you
each one
an image of me.

Only later did I
understand
that each one
was saying goodbye.

Quote: On the telos of techne

To speak more generally, the ultimate goal of technology, the telos of techne, is to replace a natural world that’s indifferent to our wishes — a world of hurricanes and hardships and breakable hearts, a world of resistance — with a world so responsive to our wishes as to be, effectively, a mere extension of the self.

Jonathan Franzen, “Liking Is for Cowards. Go for What Hurts“. New York Times, May 28, 2011

Hope in the Face of Technology: A Reply to Navneet Alang’s “Unconcealing the Future”

I wrote this long reply to an article by Navneet Alang, technology critic for the brand new and increasingly enjoyable Toronto Standard, titled “Unconcealing the Future.” It draws upon Heidegger’s “Question Concerning Technology“—vaguely, I argue.

Navneet, I hope you follow the link to this blog, because I want to say again that while I disagree with your writing, I want to thank you for moving some of my own thoughts on this topic.

While I appreciate your musings, I don’t think this essay is doing what you want it to do.

Your thesis, if I can point one out at all, seems to be something like: “And yet a glimmer of a thought emerges: the technology of the present only becomes real when it lives up to our prior imaginings of the future.”

You then cite Heidegger, unsuccessfully I argue. He can be read to say the exact opposite of you: that because technology is a way of seeing, a way of uncovering, it precisely shows us things we could *not* have possibly imagined earlier. The structure of our world changes, what was concealed is uncovered, and what is now shown could not have even been conceived because now in the future we are different people. For instance, the printing press, as McLuhan, Ong, Innis, an Eisenstein have argued, brings about our modern notion of individuality—this is not something that could have possibly been “imagined,” only to have our dreams fulfilled by Gutenberg. Precisely because it could not have been imagined is what marks its socially transformative power.

You sort of address this point in the middle section of your essay, but you don’t really account for the ambiguity of it: “The past, then, continues bleed its prejudices into the present. But the problem with that is more than just the limits of contemporary technology or ideas. As Novak points out, visions of the future often focus on one aspect of change, but not another, presenting dystopia when they mean to be hopeful.”

So, at one point, you are arguing we cannot see the future until it fits our vision of it from our past. But then you argue that we can’t ever really envision the future from the past because it carries our prejudices, blinding us to what the future actually will be. Which seems to counter your original point that the future can only be lived by us when it conforms to our previous imaginings.

Your concluding paragraphs, aspiring to Heideggerian poetics, seems to undo what came before:

“We cannot envision the future fully not because the technology doesn’t exist, but because we don’t yet know how to imagine it. So we wait for time to manifest our dreams. But in the waiting is itself something, and that too shapes the future to come.”

This paragraph is almost meaningless. We don’t know the future so we imagine it. But we wait for the future to fit our imagination. And yet our imaginations do shape the future? So, therefore, in a sense we *do* know the future? Or do we? What is the final conclusion here?

“Our hope for the future is not the realization of our techno-fetishistic imaginings, but that [the future is] fundamentally mysterious and unknowable.”

Why is that a hope? Many of the things we’ve imagined for ourselves have been beneficial, many of them have been detrimental. And much of what has come to us mysteriously and without warning has been both beneficial and detrimental. Languishing in mysticism does not help with making distinctions between the two, nor does it prepare with an ethical foundation to understand *how* to make distinctions between the two. It is only by understanding the past and examining the present that we can be prepared to make the important judgments about our future. This Heideggerian quietism in the face of Being and a Truth which seems to open mysteriously before us steals from us the fundamental freedom to say what should and shouldn’t be done in terms of technology.

I hope you don’t take this too harshly. I applaud your writing, but technology—and no less Heidegger—is complicated. It should be our job to write about it as clearly as possible, not to tend towards vagueness.

Seth Godin: Wasting the digital dividend

Seth Godin writes about all the time supposedly saved by the Internet and digital technology:

No more standing in line at the copier, trudging to the Fedex box, waiting two weeks for a letter to be returned, leaving voice mails, searching for the right person to contact, waiting months to learn a skill or a fact, discovering that a project is hopelessly broken, and on and on.

Equating this to the resources that could have been saved by demilitarizing after the Cold War (?), he cautions us from wasting this time on Facebook.

Currently stuck in a horrifyingly boring 9-5 office job, I have been told by my creative friends that I just have to use my creativity in the downtime. Now I have snatches of five minutes here where I don’t have to wait for copies, three minutes here where I don’t have to leave a voice mail.

The thing is, creativity doesn’t come like this, in snatches, unless you have already invested huge amounts of focused energy on the problem you are trying to solve. I am talking about four hour chunks, eight hour chunks of uninterrupted concentration. And as the wonderful 2011 National Magazine Award nominated essay by William Deresiewicz points out, this requires a lack of distraction and a focus on solitude.

Our connected world might be saving us time, but for those of us not lucky enough to have enlightened managers who let us pool that time into a three day weekend, we are stuck with constant interruptions. Partially divided attention. I don’t need to cite the recent spate of books and studies which show that this is actually detrimental to creativity and critical thought. Us of the younger generation think we are great multitaskers, but actually we are worse than we think we are.