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Friday, February 28, 2025

 Epictetus, DiscoursesA Commentary



                                                    Epictetus (55 - 135 A. D.)

 

I have read what writers and thinkers I trust wrote about the Stoics – Martha Nussbaum, for example – but I have never read the work of a Stoic philosopher. So I will remedy this by reading Epictetus’ Discourses (even though the Discourses are reported thoughts and sayings of Epictetus (50 – 135 A.D.) and not written by the man himself. I chose Epictetus because he was a slave and later a free man who was not far removed from the circles of power in Rome. I also chose him because he was Greek: I could thus avoid having to deal with my prejudice against the Romans.

 

Book I

“As then it was fit to be so, that which is best of all and supreme over all is the only thing which the gods have placed in our power, the right use of appearances; but all other things they have not placed in our power. Was it because they did not choose? I indeed think that, if they had been able, they would have put these other things also in our power, but they certainly could not. For as we exist on the earth, and are bound to such a body and to such companions, how was it possible for us not to be hindered as to these things by externals?

     But what says Zeus? "Epictetus, if it were possible, I would have made both your little body and your little property free and not exposed to hindrance. But now be not ignorant of this: this body is not yours, but it is clay finely tempered. And since I was not able to do for you what I have mentioned, I have given you a small portion of us, this faculty of pursuing an object and avoiding it, and the faculty of desire and aversion, and, in a word, the faculty of using the appearances of things; and if you will take care of this faculty and consider it your only possession, you will never be hindered, never meet with impediments; you will not lament, you will not blame, you will not flatter any person."

 

Will you not stretch out your neck as Lateranus did at Rome when Nero ordered him to be beheaded? For when he had stretched out his neck, and received a feeble blow, which made him draw it in for a moment, he stretched it out again…. What then should a man have in readiness in such circumstances? What else than "What is mine, and what is not mine; and permitted to me, and what is not permitted to me."

 

"Tell me the secret which you possess." I will not, for this is in my power. "But I will put you in chains." Man, what are you talking about? Me in chains? You may fetter my leg, but my will not even Zeus himself can overpower. "I will throw you into prison." My poor body, you mean. "I will cut your head off." When, then, have I told you that my head alone cannot be cut off?

 

Comment

  We cannot control what happens to us, only our attitude toward it. That which we cannot control has no value. That which we can control – our attitude – has absolute value relative to everything else.

   What struck me right away is his dualism between body and reason, with the body causing attachments to all those worldly things that make you vulnerable to fortune and the mind alone free to take up a bodily or detached attitude toward those apparent goods. Very much reminds me of Socrates of the Phaedo, though so far without any comforting thoughts of an afterlife.

  The loss of that which has no real value or meaning is no loss. Whatever fortune can take away is by definition of no real value, has no deep meaning. The only thing of value is the mind, and that no one can take away. (He should have read 1984.) That seems to be the thesis. Reminds me of children who when they want something and it is withheld from them reverse themselves and say they never wanted that worthless thing to begin with (sour grapes). Something like this:

Emma: Wow, look at Lily’s new bike! It’s so cool. I wish I had one like that.

Jack: Yeah, it’s alright, I guess.

Emma: Just alright? It’s got shiny red paint and those awesome gears! You said last week you wanted a bike just like that.

Jack: Well… it’s probably not that fun to ride anyway. And I bet it’s really heavy. My old bike is better because it’s lighter.

Emma: But you just said—

Jack: Whatever. I don’t even want a new bike. Bikes are dumb.

 

Jack really wants the bike but, realizing he can’t have it, dismisses its value to protect himself from disappointment. This reaction, this reshaping of our desires to fit our limitations, is exactly what Epictetus seems encourage. And instead of the bike, read bodily, worldly life itself.

  Epictetus’ attitude implies a radical renunciation—like the child who dismisses what he cannot have, except that for Epictetus, this isn’t a defense mechanism but a deliberate philosophical stance. He isn’t just saying, I didn’t want that anyway out of resentment; he’s saying, That was never worth wanting in the first place.

   The contrast to Aristotle is illuminating. Aristotle acknowledges that worldly goods – health, friendship, political life (I would add other things: natural beauty, philosophy, children, etc.) – have genuine value. But Epictetus posits that nothing worldly has real worth. He (like Socrates) sees through the illusion of external value and is unshaken by loss because he has trained himself never to desire what is beyond his control. This extends even to life in the body itself. The Stoic view on death is extreme: if life is no longer in accordance with reason, one should be willing to leave it behind without distress. Epictetus teaches a kind of preemptive detachment from everything – including one’s own existence.

     In moments of crisis – war, exile, severe illness – this kind of Stoic detachment might serve as a psychological refuge, a way to maintain dignity when all else is lost. But as a general philosophy of life, it can empty life of meaning, hollow out the loves that keep us attached to life. Aristotle’s approach, by contrast, assumes that engagement with the world, with relationships, with the body, is not just inevitable but good. He sees wisdom not in renunciation, but in ordering our desires rightly—valuing what should be valued, neither overindulging nor rejecting what is naturally fulfilling. The world is not totally a Cave of shadows pretending to a value they don’t have – like the good things Neo had to give up when he left the illusory world generated by the Matrix behind (he used to eat at a certain restaurant where the noodles were especially good). The world is dangerous, human beings can fail to become what they should be, making “a Hell in Heaven’s despite.” But for a person of any wisdom at all, a person who sees the world right, there are many wonderful things, many reason to love and thus attach oneself to that which is love-able.

  Epictetus is like Plato/Socrates in that they reject tragedy as based on an ungrounded and thus irrational valuing of worldly goods, goods that can only be external, of no intrinsic value. This includes family, art, home, nature, and one’s own life. Tragedy presupposes the loss of what is precious.

    For Epictetus, following Socrates and Plato, tragedy is based on a fundamental misunderstanding: the belief that external things—health, reputation, family, natural beauty, good art, even life itself—are truly good and worth grieving when lost. But if only virtue is good, then no real harm can befall the wise person, and tragedy becomes, at best, an illusion. Cf. Socrates: “The good man can’t be harmed.” Socrates was perhaps the first Stoic, though he made conceptual space for an afterlife.

  Again, contrast this to Aristotle, who sees tragedy as deeply educational. In the Poetics, he argues that tragedy allows us to experience catharsis, a purification of emotions like pity and fear. i.e. allows us to live with them by allowing us to experience them and deal with them vicariously; allows us to face the possible of bad fortune without necessarily being afflicted by it. Allows us to identify through compassion partly with those who are and yet do not lose their dignity. For Aristotle, these emotions are not irrational in themselves; they have a role in moral education. But for Epictetus, the wise person should not need catharsis because he should never be emotionally disturbed in the first place. (Christianity does not deny that loss and suffering are real, but it transforms their meaning. In this way, Christianity, and even Aristotle’s view, seem to take suffering and tragedy more seriously than Stoicism does – well, many Stoics showed real courage, and that is the ultimate proof of a philosophy.

. . .

   While no worldly good - not even life - has an absolute value (here I agree with Plato) many aspects of the world, many existing things in it are precious, can come to be seen as precious by people. This makes life liveable, meaningful, makes existence something one can say 'yes' too. If the body were nothing but “clay,” not a part of 'me', I would never choose to be born.

    My criticism of Epictetus’s view is thus: to secure invulnerability he risks making existence itself indifferent, even meaningless. If nothing outside of virtue is truly precious, then why would one affirm life at all?

   My convictions align more with Aristotle’s and perhaps with a Platonic-Christian view:  worldly goods are not absolute, yet they still have genuine, though dependent, value. Life is not the highest good: better die defending the innocent than live on in shame as a coward, for example. (I think of that man who died trying to save the two-year-old from the fanatic’s knife attack. Honor to him!) The body, relationships, and beauty in the world are not mere distractions but real aspects of a life worth affirming. This is what gives tragedy its depth: we grieve because something truly precious has been lost, even if it was not absolute.

    You cannot affirm life, life has no meaning, unless you love something or someone. As soon as you love you are vulnerable. There is no exit from this. You can make yourself invulnerable only by denying love, and thus the value of life.

. . .

I do not judge Epictetus. Had I lived in ancient Rome, I would have been either a Stoic or a Spartacus. A horrible, loveless world based on oppression and violence. The sense of a common humanity, the reality of love, beauty, goodness - unknown. It was Hell on earth. If you live in Hell and know nothing else, you will think that "nature." I agree with Epictetus that the Roman world has no genuine value. I disagree with him that the Roman world is the essence of all worlds, of nature. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, February 23, 2025

 Recalling My Reading of Tolstoy's Confession




Leo Tolstoy was a great writer and a profound thinker. I am neither. Yet I have something in common with him. For whatever reason – perhaps my time at the hospital among other things – death became more real to me than our psyches are wired to process. The understanding that transience and mortality threaten meaning; the feeling that love longs for permanence; that only what is permanent truly has being – that once we love anything and thus are joyful at its very existence, death, nothingness negates it – these things I felt long before I could consciously articulate them. Reading Tolstoy’s A Confession brought these inchoate feelings to full consciousness. The book will not speak to anyone not already haunted by these inchoate feelings.

    Like Tolstoy, I studied many great books containing much human wisdom, trying to find something to hold on to. I was once inspired by the premise of the Enlightenment: only through the use of a thoroughly secularized, presuppositionless version of reason could people see through superstition and see the world right. But reading A Confession spoke to my heart: the meaning of life does not reveal itself to purely secularized reason; you cannot construct a rational proof evident to anyone that life is meaningful. The ultimate lesson I took from A Confession was this: that the meaning of life is only revealed to those who already have faith in it. Rather like the meaning of the painfully beautiful Bach song Die Schafe können sicher weiden can only reveal itself to those who have become part of a certain tradition. You probably already have to be in this tradition to be able to hear the beauty. You can make it your own with a little effort.

 

Link to the performance of the Bach song that I love:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xt3DEuw0wjM

Tuesday, February 18, 2025

 If I were a Marxist...


If I were a Marxist, I would be tempted to interpret liberal-democracy as the superstructure that corresponded to the stage of consumer capitalism, and "pop Fascism" (autocratically led plutocracy with populist constructions of reality) as corresponding to the newest stage of capitalism, which is becoming more like neo-feudalism with key corporations and billionaires defining what used to be the market. This stage of capitalism squeezes out the middle class and concentrates wealth ever more firmly in the hands of a small financial elite, whereas liberal representative democracy - which capital could largely control through influence over government (except in crisis, like the Great Depression) - lived from a fairly broad middle class that was contented by relative prosperity and consumption. But the current concentration of capital and its technological changes shrink that class dramatically, making it necessary to have firmer control and an ideology (a distorted picture of reality) to keep the masses at bay. Primitive nationalism seems to work best for this purpose. 

Thursday, February 13, 2025

 "Latin is boring!"


There are two reasons for something to be experienced as boring. 1) it is boring, e.g. vacuuming, taking down the garbage i.e. repetitive, mindless tasks you have to do as a means to an end (clean apartment) but which no sane person would do for their own sake. 2) it is interesting - many people love it - but something in you blocks you from seeing it. Latin is inherently interesting. Tolkien, for example, who loved languages and loved Latin. He was not projecting subjective fantasies on something objectively boring. But not everyone is able to see the interesting aspects of it just as most adults have lost the capacity to wonder at all. Good teachers are able to open the doors to their subjects, usually by way of the imagination. A big reason some people find certain things boring is the work you have to put in to master it - Latin, like math, piano, or basketball requires work, thus the virtues of self-discipline and perseverance. But my point: whenever a person find something other than washing dishes boring, the answer probably lies in themself rather than the subject they claim is boring. That doesn’t necessarily have to be a criticism: we are finite, mortal creatures and there is not world enough and time to pursue everything that is worth pursuing. We have to choose. Just don’t act like the subject – Latin, for example – is responsible for your boredom. And above all a person who can't find anything interesting outside of TikTok is condemned to never actualizing their real humanity. 


Wednesday, February 12, 2025

 Sketch of Human Nature and a World Honoring Human Nature




I believe human nature limits the possible benevolent and sustainable forms of polity.  This is just a crude sketch of this belief.  

   A polity best suited to human nature must begin where human nature itself begins: in the necessary condition of living with others. Solitude—real, complete solitude—would be inhuman, not in the sense of being cruel or unnatural but in the sense of being pre-human, incapable of giving rise to the distinctly human faculties. Without others, there would be no language, no stories, no traditions, no shared world in which a self could recognize itself. Even the most introspective life, the life turned inward, depends on the inherited structures of meaning given by the presence of others before it.

     From this foundation arises not only speech but world-making itself. A human world is not just the physical environment we inhabit but the space of meaning we construct together—through work, art, memory, ritual. What makes human life bearable, even beautiful, is this web of shared reality: the stories that orient us, the arts that elevate us, the labor that dignifies, the roots that bind us to a past and to a people. These are not distractions from a raw, individual life; they are the very substance of what it means to live fully humanly.

   And then, the highest things: virtue, love, heroism, beauty, philosophy. These do not float above common life like distant ideals; they are cultivated through it, drawn out in the particular forms a culture makes possible. The truly great acts—acts of love, of sacrifice, of courage—are intelligible only within a human world that can recognize and name them as such. Even the solitary mystic, reaching toward God, does so through words and images formed in the common historical life of a people. The goods most worth pursuing are not solitary achievements but fulfillments of a shared life. So I agree with Aristotle: we are beings that cannot realize our potential – cannot become fully human – outside some form of polity. And the telos – the ultimate reason-for-being of a polity – is to make it possible for us to become fully human.

     This is why the question of polity is not merely a question of governance but of the conditions necessary for a full human life. The best political order must preserve and nurture what makes life meaningful: not merely security, but a world in which human capacities can be realized. It must not only allow but sustain the moral and cultural conditions in which love, beauty, and virtue can take root. A polity that reduces life to material survival or procedural fairness alone is not neutral—it is already a deformation, already an abstraction from what human beings actually are.

    The fundamental error of modern political thought is to treat human beings as if they were solitary, as if political life were a contract between self-sufficient individuals rather than the natural unfolding of shared existence. But to be human is to be born into a world already rich with meaning, shaped by those who came before, and to inherit obligations to those who will come after. A just polity, then, must not merely govern individuals but cultivate a common life in which the highest human potentials—love, wisdom, virtue—can be realized.

. . .

   In all human doing, there is an absolute limit that may never be crossed. We may not break any eggs (human beings) to make the omelet (a good polity). (This principle of Lenin’s was evil and condemned the attempt to build a socialist society in the former USSR.) Nothing good can come of evil. Every action, every polity must answer the question: “Is it good?” For a polity to be truly just and desirable, its foundation must be an unwavering commitment to what is good and, by extension, a rejection of what is evil. This means that the equality of moral worth and the embrace of human dignity (a common humanity) are not relative or negotiable in the pursuit of political or social goals. Instead, they are absolute standards that every action or policy must meet. In other words, if an action or policy fails to meet the standard of goodness, if it involves any element of evil, it cannot be justified, regardless of the intended positive outcomes. Thus I think the first principle of any constitution must be that of the Federal Republic of Germany: die Würde des Menschen ist unantastbar; the dignity of Man (i.e. every human being) is inviolable.

      The idea that “being equal in dignity is the basis for justice” underscores that every human being holds an intrinsic worth that is not contingent on their utility or their contribution to the polity. Justice, then, is not merely a procedural or distributive mechanism; it is fundamentally about honoring and safeguarding the inherent value of each person. A just society recognizes and protects this equality of dignity, ensuring that no individual's rights or worth are compromised for collective gain. Aristotle’s Athens was radically unjust because it was a slave society and did not consider women or children to be of equal moral worth. Justice is the very condition that renders any polity desirable. A political order that respects absolute moral values and the equal dignity of its citizens is inherently just, and it is this justice that confers legitimacy and desirability upon it. Conversely, if a polity is built on methods or principles that involve moral compromises, if it employs evil means to achieve a so-called good (exploitation, oppression), it loses its claim to be truly good or just. No matter how efficient or orderly such a society might appear, it remains fundamentally flawed if it undermines the intrinsic worth of its members.

   Where does the idea of human dignity come from? From being able to see other imaginatively as we see our children: as love-able, as intelligible objects of love, as someone's child. (Or pity when a human being was deprived of this existential, empowering love that lets us be.) I will develop that thought now.

. . .

     Within these limits, the goal of a polity must be to promote the highest realization of humanity – the highest human potential.  A polity is only as good as its people – only as just, self-restrained, courageous, wise, and loving as its people. Which is just the foundation for the fullest realization of our nature. Just, self-restrained, courageous, wise, and loving is what we are meant to be, or become; and we only become fully human (actualize our humanity) when we actualize these virtues or perfections.

   We cannot become what we ought to become – or only through a difficult rebellion – unless we were loved as children. We are born incomplete. No one can find themselves love-able who has not received the gift of love from others – and above all from mother and father. Much more than a feeling, love is the conviction that it is “good, very good” that the loved one is, that they exist, that they have been brought into the world. Love is affirmation, an affirmation that no person can grant themselves. It is like giving us permission to be. Great thinkers like Hegel understood that we can only understand ourselves as self-conscious creatures possessing dignity once this dignity has been recognized by others. Deeper than that is the power that love has to activate our journey to becoming fully human. Love is the root of our being “social animals,” as Aristotle defined us.

    The family is thus part of human nature. A child needs the love of both mother and father. Children raised without one parent often face a range of interlinked challenges that affect their emotional, psychological, and social well-being. The absence of a consistent parental figure can disrupt the development of secure attachment bonds, leading to feelings of abandonment, low self-esteem, and chronic insecurity. Without the dual influence of both nurturing and guiding presences, children may miss out on the balanced role models that help them integrate vulnerability with strength, often resulting in difficulties establishing healthy boundaries and managing emotions. This imbalance can manifest as heightened anxiety, depression, and behavioral issues, as the child struggles to regulate stress without the support of both parents. These children often find it harder to cope with setbacks and form trusting relationships, further isolating them and exacerbating emotional challenges. While many children in single-parent households show resilience – especially when supported by extended family – the absence of one parent's influence can create vulnerabilities that impact their ability to fulfill their true nature. I also think the extended family – grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are very important for a child’s ability to feel grounded.

     Moreover, families cannot thrive in isolation but require communities that uphold and honor them. The family is not a self-sufficient unit but part of a larger web of relationships—neighbors, extended kin, and local institutions—that sustain it. Without such a community, families are left vulnerable to economic pressures, cultural fragmentation, and a loss of purpose. The modern, industrial economy is responsible for eroding these communal bonds, isolating individuals, and reducing human relationships to mere transactions. Families need a culture that values fidelity, stewardship, good work, and responsibility – virtues that only a well-ordered community can cultivate.

     Just as a child needs both parents to flourish, families need a moral and economic order that reinforces their stability and purpose. A culture that devalues marriage, rewards transience, and isolates individuals in pursuit of self-interest ultimately weakens the very foundation of family life and must be considered contrary to human nature. In contrast, communities structured around virtues create the conditions in which families can truly thrive. Thus, human nature is not merely familial but also communal; the good life is not lived in radical autonomy but in relationships of duty and love, woven together in a shared moral order.

    Genuine politics – the kind that enables human flourishing – a is rooted in the small-scale, participatory community rather than in vast, impersonal states or empires. For Aristotle, the polis is the natural framework for human life because it allows for self-governance, meaningful participation, and the cultivation of virtue. He argues in the Politics that man is a politikon zōon (a political animal), meaning that human beings are not meant to live in isolation or under despotism but in a community where they can deliberate about justice, the common good, and the best way to live. A true polis is small enough that citizens know one another and can engage in this shared pursuit of the good. Large empires, by contrast, reduce governance to mere administration, severing the connection between individual action and collective responsibility.

     Hannah Arendt, building on this classical vision, argues in The Human Condition that authentic politics requires a public space where individuals can engage in speech and action—not as private individuals driven by necessity, but as citizens shaping their common world. In mass societies, individuals become alienated, reduced to laborers and consumers rather than active participants in political life. Bureaucratic states and empires, which centralize power and erode local autonomy, deny people the ability to meaningfully shape their own communities. They are thus blocks to human thriving. A thriving human life is not possible without a polis-like political realm—a space where human beings live not merely under laws but in communities that foster responsibility, deliberation, and shared purpose. Vast nations and empires, by concentrating power at an unaccountable distance, ultimately negate the conditions for human flourishing by reducing citizens to passive subjects rather than active participants in a shared moral and political life.

    Aristotle and Hannah Arendt both argue that human beings are not fully themselves in isolation or under centralized, bureaucratic rule; rather, they reveal who they truly are through action and speech within a real political community. Aristotle’s polis is not merely a structure for survival but the arena in which human beings can pursue the good life through virtuous action and meaningful participation. Arendt expands on this in The Human Condition, arguing that it is through speech and action—undertaken in the presence of others—that individuals disclose who they are, rather than merely what they are. In contrast to labor and necessity, which reduce people to their biological or economic functions, political life in a true polis allows for the full emergence of personal identity. This is a fruit of human nature actualized.

    In small-scale, participatory communities, people engage in genuine deliberation and action, making their unique perspectives and values visible to others. This is not possible in mass societies or empires, where individuals are reduced to anonymous, interchangeable roles within vast systems of power. In such large-scale structures, one’s identity is often defined by impersonal categories—worker, taxpayer, subject—rather than by one's unique contributions and personal commitments. Without a polis in which speech and action matter, human life is diminished, and individuals are deprived of the space where they can truly reveal themselves, forging meaningful relationships and shaping their shared world. Thus, the polis is not merely a political necessity; it is an existential one, providing the only real context in which human beings can fully appear as persons rather than as mere functions within an impersonal system.

. . .

   An economy oriented toward actualizing our most human potentials would be one rooted in the dignity of work, the integrity of local communities, and the cultivation of virtues necessary for a good life. This requires that technology support the community; not the community beings dissolved for the sake of more powerful and profitable technology. 

  A good economy remains embedded in the land, local knowledge, and the mutual responsibilities of a community. It values small-scale, diversified farming and artisanal work as essential to sustaining both the earth and human dignity. Work should be meaningful and done with love, rejecting the dehumanization of mass production. Industrial economies that prioritize efficiency over craftsmanship strip both work and art of their integrity, making labor a mere means to an end rather than a fulfilling practice. In a well-ordered society, work is pursued for its intrinsic excellence rather than for profit alone, and people are connected to the fruits of their labor.

     In contrast, a corporate capitalist economy, with exceptions, prioritizes efficiency, scalability, and profit over the well-being of workers, the health of communities, and the integrity of work itself. It alienates people from the meaning of their labor, reduces work to a means of consumption, and fosters a culture of disposability—both in products and in human relationships. Where a virtuous economy fosters responsibility, skill, and connection, a profit-driven economy often creates dependence, superficiality, and detachment from place and purpose. The best economy, then, is one that allows people to cultivate their highest human potentials, ensuring that work, production, and community life serve not just material survival but the full flourishing of the human soul.

     Work can either be alienating or non-alienating, depending on whether it allows the worker to actualize human nature through excellence. Alienating work reduces labor to a mere means to an end—typically survival or profit—separating the worker from the purpose, process, and product of their labor. When labor is fragmented, repetitive, or disconnected from the worker’s creative agency, it becomes dehumanizing, preventing the full exercise of skill, judgment, and personal investment. Non-alienating work, by contrast, is the kind that engages the worker as a whole person, allowing for craftsmanship, responsibility, and the pursuit of excellence. It fosters habits of care, patience, and mastery, cultivating the virtues that lead to human flourishing. In such work, there is an intrinsic satisfaction in making something well, in contributing meaningfully to a community, and in seeing the fruit of one’s labor. A society that values non-alienating work recognizes that labor is not merely about economic exchange but about forming the kind of persons we become. It understands that human dignity is best preserved when work is structured not around maximizing efficiency but around developing the intellect, virtues, and creativity that fulfill our nature.

   Christianity deepens this vision of the economy by rooting it in the doctrines of Creation and the theological virtues. If the world is created by God and declared good, then human work is not merely a means of survival or self-expression but a participation in the divine order, a way of cultivating and caring for creation. Labor, when rightly ordered, reflects both the creativity of the Creator and the stewardship entrusted to mankind. The theological virtues—faith, hope, and charity—transform economic life by orienting it beyond mere material concerns toward love of neighbor and the Creation. There is a vision of work as service rather than mere production. A society shaped by these virtues values relationships over efficiency, responsibility over exploitation, and generosity over accumulation. When faith and love inform labor and exchange, economic life becomes not a site of competition and alienation but of community, gratitude, and mutual support. In contrast, an economy severed from these transcendent goods falls into disorder, turning work into drudgery, wealth into an idol, and relationships into transactions. A truly human economy must therefore be more than sustainable—it must be sacramental, reflecting the divine order and the call to love, in which every act of making, giving, and tending to the world is a participation in the greater good.

     Christianity transforms the relationship of the community to outsiders by expanding the ordo amoris—the order of love—to include not just fellow believers or members of one’s immediate community, but also strangers, enemies, and those outside one’s social or cultural group. The command to "love thy neighbor" is radicalized in the parable of the Good Samaritan, where Jesus illustrates that true love transcends societal boundaries, inviting individuals to extend compassion and care to those whom others may consider "outsiders" or "undeserving." In this vision, the Christian community is called to love not out of obligation or self-interest, but out of a commitment to the inherent dignity of all human beings, regardless of their background or status. The ordo amoris thus becomes a more expansive and inclusive framework, one that challenges the tribalism and exclusion that often define human societies. A community shaped by this vision of love sees the well-being of the outsider as integral to its own flourishing and understands that its true strength lies not in the preservation of its own boundaries, but in the extension of mercy, justice, and care beyond them. This broader view of neighborliness transforms not only individual hearts but the very structure of social and economic relationships, creating a society that is more just, compassionate, and oriented toward the common good.  This brings me back to the beginning: love is a judgment that the beloved is “good, very good” – a granting of the claim to be. The love parents show their baby is thus connected to a love of the world and all the people in it – in the sense of affirming their existence and willing their good. Without the latter the possibility of the former is endangered.

. . .

I am trying to sketch the outlines of an Idea. The facts of the fallen world that make the even distant realization of this Idea practically impossible are condemned by the Idea. 

Sunday, February 9, 2025

 Theses on Catholic Social Teaching and Corporate Capitalism 





Thesis One

 

  The corporate capitalist worldview of nature (including human nature) as an inherently meaningless collection of energy and raw materials is radically incompatible with the Christian picture of humanity and nature.

 

Argument:

Corporate capitalism is not merely a system of economic transactions; it embodies a comprehensive worldview that envisions man as a conqueror of nature. This worldview undergirds the modern project of the domination of nature (including human nature) for the purpose of increased power and control (inevitably of some men over others). This is a vision that reduces both the natural world and human existence to resources for exploitation – it justifies that exploitation. Iris Murdoch wrote that "man is an animal that makes pictures of himself and then becomes like the picture," meaning that the self-conception propagated by corporate capitalism not only imagines man as a master and manipulator of his environment but also forces him to live out that image, reinforcing a cycle of alienation and domination. Thus in corporate capitalism, natural resources are viewed primarily as inputs for production rather than as integral parts of a living ecosystem. Forests, rivers, and even the air are treated as commodities to be extracted and sold, an approach that mirrors the conqueror image. Human labor is reduced to a commodity totally under the control of the capitalist profit imperative. Consider the pervasive culture of metrics and performance reviews in corporate settings. Employees are increasingly seen as cogs in a vast machine – evaluated, optimized, and replaced according to the demands of efficiency and profit. This not only diminishes personal dignity but also mirrors the self-imposed image of man as an automaton of productivity, distancing him from a richer, more relational identity as envisioned in Christian thought.

      The modern corporate capitalist system does not merely use technologies and organizational structures to achieve its ends; it fundamentally shapes social consciousness. The imagery of conquest and mastery becomes so embedded that every aspect of life—from the design of digital platforms to the organization of labor—is oriented toward the subjugation and commodification of both nature and human experience. We become locked into a mental prison unable to experience the world as it really it.

     For example, algorithms designed to maximize engagement on social media platforms create environments that promote consumerist values and superficial interactions, reinforcing the idea that human value is tied to measurable productivity and consumption. This technological framework mirrors and reinforces the overarching worldview that every Christian should reject – a worldview that is antithetical to the Christian mandate of care, relationship, and stewardship. (see Wendell Berry, “Christianity and the Survival of Creation,” in Sex, Economy, Freedom & Community.)

    What a stark contrast to the Catholic and Orthodox pictures. Both Catholic and Orthodox traditions affirm that man and nature are gifts from a loving Creator, imbued with inherent goodness and purpose. In this vision, human beings are created in the image of God—endowed with dignity, free will, and a capacity for communion—and are called to participate in God's ongoing creative and redemptive work through stewardship and care for all creation. Nature, far from being a mere resource, is viewed as a sacramental sign of divine beauty and order, inviting humanity to experience and respond to God's love. This understanding demands a relationship where every element of existence reflects the goodness of its source, inspiring a responsible and loving engagement with the world.

 

 

 

Thesis Two

 

  The economy takes the dignity and humanity out of labor.

 

Argument:

  Corporate capitalism reduces individuals to mere economic units—focusing on cost minimization, productivity, and consumption—thereby instrumentalizing human beings rather than recognizing them as persons created in the image of God with intrinsic worth. Whether a factory worker, a retail worker, or a logistics worker, all are treated as replaceable inputs whose value is measured solely by output and efficiency. In contrast, Catholic social teaching asserts that every person has inherent dignity and rights that demand respect beyond mere economic calculation. A corporation will also take away a person’s income and “outsource” the job overseas where they can pay less and where workers may have little or no legal protections.

    Moreover, in corporate capitalism work is reduced to a transactional activity aimed solely at profit generation, and leisure becomes commodified. Practices such as demanding long working hours and fostering a culture of “always on” connectivity lead to burnout – as I witnessed firsthand in my family – and the erosion of family and community life, contrary to the Church’s vision of work and leisure that fosters human flourishing. This distorts work as a form of personal vocation and service, and neglects leisure as an essential space for rest, creativity, and community building – both central themes in Catholic social teaching.

 

 

 

Thesis Three

 

Corporate capitalism erodes community and the principle of subsidiarity. 

Argument:

   By centralizing decision-making in distant corporate headquarters and promoting standardized, mass-market interactions, corporate capitalism undermines local community bonds and the principle of subsidiarity—the idea that decisions should be made at the most local level possible to empower individuals and communities. Decisions made in a corporate boardroom in one country can disrupt local economies and cultures in another, while Catholic teaching emphasizes local engagement and community-based solutions that nurture interpersonal relationships and mutual support.

     Consider Wendell Berry’s depiction of rural America: once vibrant with family farms, local crafts, and community-run stores, these regions have been upended by the rise of industrial agriculture and corporate consolidation. In Berry’s analysis, the shift to monoculture – where vast expanses of land are devoted to a single cash crop using intensive, mechanized methods – displaces the diversified, family-based farming model. As agribusinesses consolidate control over the food supply chain through state subsidies and market dominance, small farms are forced out, leading to the depopulation of rural communities. This not only erodes local economic activity, such as crafts and retail, but also dissolves the social bonds nurtured through local decision-making and mutual dependence. The result is a loss of subsidiarity and community cohesion – a process in which the intimate, place-based character of rural life is replaced by impersonal, distant corporate control. The result is also a loss of culture as local communication is replaced by the centralized media of TV and social media. I witnessed the same process in East Germany after its economy was assimilated.

 

 

Thesis Four 

Corporate capitalism poses a dire threat to the Creation.

 Argument:

    Corporate capitalism’s relentless pursuit of short-term profit often comes at the expense of the planet’s ecological integrity. This approach has led to widespread environmental degradation through industrial pollution, deforestation, biodiversity loss, and climate change that threatens the very fabric of life on Earth. The work of Hans Jonas is particularly instructive here. Jonas argues that modern technological power comes with a profound moral imperative: we must protect the survival of humanity and ensure that our actions do not imperil future generations. This "imperative of responsibility" demands that we act with foresight and prudence, recognizing that the earth is not an inexhaustible resource but a fragile system upon which life depends. Catholic social teaching similarly insists on the responsible stewardship of creation. Documents such as Pope Francis’ Laudato Si’ echo Jonas’ concerns by emphasizing that environmental degradation and climate change are not only ecological or economic issues but profound moral crises that imperil human dignity and the common good. The Church teaches that nature is a gift from a loving Creator—a sacramental sign of divine beauty and order—and that humanity is called to care for it in a spirit of stewardship rather than exploitation. This ethical framework obligates us to consider the long-term impacts of our actions on the planet and on future generations.

     Consider for example the global impacts of industrial agriculture and fossil fuel extraction—a hallmark of corporate capitalism. These practices contribute significantly to climate change, leading to extreme weather events, sea-level rise, and the loss of arable land. This not only disrupts local communities but also threatens the stability and survival of entire regions. For instance, rising temperatures and erratic weather patterns are already jeopardizing food security in vulnerable parts of the world, creating a cascade of social and economic problems that compromise the well-being of future generations. In this light, the corporate capitalist model, by prioritizing immediate gains over ecological and intergenerational sustainability, stands in direct opposition to responsible stewardship.

 

 

 Thesis Five 

     In the Thomist Christian vision, true humanity is achieved through the cultivation of both the cardinal virtues (prudence, justice, temperance, fortitude) and the theological virtues (faith, hope, charity) within a nurturing community. However, the structural imperatives of corporate capitalism—its emphasis on individualism, market competition, and consumerism—undermine the formation of such communities, making it exceedingly difficult for individuals to develop the virtuous character necessary for authentic human flourishing.

 

Argument:

     Thomist anthropology holds that human beings, created in the image of God, are destined for perfection through the habitual practice of virtue. Virtues are not isolated personal achievements but are cultivated within a community where moral practices, shared values, and mutual accountability reinforce one another. For example, the practice of charity is deepened by relationships of trust and mutual care that can only thrive in a community that values the common good over individual gain.

      Corporate capitalism prioritizes profit maximization, efficiency, and short-term success. This system encourages individuals to view themselves primarily as economic agents—workers, consumers, or shareholders—rather than as members of a moral community. In such an environment, personal success is often measured by material accumulation and market performance rather than by the development of virtuous character. The competitive drive inherent in corporate capitalism tends to foster self-interest over solidarity, making the practice of virtues like justice and charity improbable (just look around you).

    The corporate capitalist model, moreover, often results in the fragmentation of community life. Long working hours, job insecurity, and the pressures of constant economic performance leave little time or space for communal engagement, reflection, or moral formation. For instance, large, impersonal corporations replace family farms and local businesses with standardized operations that value efficiency over community engagement, thereby eroding the social fabric necessary for the communal nurturing of virtues. And the consumer culture promoted by corporate capitalism places emphasis on acquiring and displaying material goods as a marker of success. This relentless focus on consumption distracts individuals from cultivating inner virtues and from engaging in practices that promote spiritual and moral growth. The pursuit of material wealth, at the expense of ethical reflection and communal bonding, directly contradicts the Christian call to live a life informed by faith, hope, and charity.

      Wendell Berry shows how the shift from small-scale, community-based economies to corporate-controlled agribusiness has dismantled the intimate networks that support moral and spiritual formation. Family farms and local markets once provided not only food but also spaces for mutual support, dialogue, and the practice of virtues like hospitality and justice. The corporate drive for consolidation and efficiency has decimated these local institutions, replacing them with impersonal, profit-driven operations that leave little room for the shared experiences essential for developing virtuous character.

 

Thesis Six 

The profit imperative undermines the social good in critical sectors

 Argument:

   Corporate capitalism’s unrelenting focus on profit often forces essential services—such as healthcare, defense, and media—into a conflict between generating revenue and serving the public welfare. In these sectors, the drive for financial gain can lead to practices that compromise affordability, ethical decision-making, and truthfulness, thereby endangering the very social goods they are meant to provide.

 

Healthcare:

  The medical industry exemplifies this conflict when life-saving medications like insulin become prohibitively expensive despite their relatively low production costs. The profit motive encourages price hikes and restricted access, leaving many who depend on such drugs without affordable care. This situation starkly contrasts with the ethical imperative to safeguard human life and well-being. The capitalist economies of Europe have done something at least to ameliorate the preying of the pharmacy industry on the people and provide access to health care for everyone. 

 

Defense (Military-Industrial Complex):

  In the defense sector, private contractors and corporations may influence national policies to favor continuous or expanded military spending. This profit-driven approach can result in inflated defense budgets, the prioritization of lucrative contracts over genuine security needs, and even the perpetuation of conflict, all of which divert attention from the public’s real needs for safety and responsible governance.

 

Media (The Public’s Need for Truth):

    Corporate media, driven by the need to maximize ratings and ad revenue, often prioritizes sensationalism over substantive journalism. This quest for profit can lead to biased reporting, the distortion of facts, and a neglect of investigative rigor—undermining the public’s access to reliable, objective information that is crucial for a functioning democracy. Truth is an essential need and corporate media cannot give us that.


The Food Industry (including agrobusiness)

      The corporate food industry exemplifies how capitalism’s profit-driven imperatives stand in opposition to human dignity, ethical responsibility, and environmental sustainability. By prioritizing financial gain over health, humane treatment, and ecological balance, the industrial food system creates systemic harms that undermine both individual well-being and the integrity of God’s creation. A more just food economy would be one that respects the land, nourishes people without exploitation, and upholds the moral responsibilities of stewardship. 

     The food industry relies on artificial preservatives, pesticides, and processed ingredients that prioritize shelf life and profitability over human health. Sugar-laden products, particularly targeted at children, foster addiction and contribute to rising rates of obesity, diabetes, and metabolic disorders. Instead of nourishing communities, the industrial food system exploits consumer vulnerabilities for financial gain, disregarding the moral responsibility to promote well-being. An industry of food directed not to the good of health but to harmful addictions.

     Corporate agribusiness subjects animals to brutal conditions in the name of efficiency and profit. Factory farming treats living beings as mere commodities – units of production I once heard chickens being slaughtered referred to – packing them into inhumane spaces, subjecting them to unnatural diets, and prioritizing rapid growth over ethical husbandry. This approach violates the Christian understanding of stewardship, which calls for humane and just treatment of all creatures as part of God’s creation.

      Industrial agriculture depletes natural resources at an unsustainable rate, leading to soil erosion, water contamination, and biodiversity loss. Monocropping, chemical fertilizers, and excessive irrigation degrade the land and make future food production more precarious. Catholic social teaching calls for responsible stewardship of the earth, yet corporate agribusiness prioritizes short-term profits over the long-term health of the land and the communities that depend on it.

 

   In each of these examples, the imperative to increase profits directly conflicts with the social good. Whether it is making essential medications unaffordable, compromising national security priorities, or distorting public discourse, the profit-driven motives of corporate capitalism stand in stark opposition to the ethical responsibilities of providing care, ensuring safety, and upholding truth. This conflict illustrates a fundamental incompatibility: a system that values financial gain over human dignity and the common good ultimately undermines the social conditions necessary for a flourishing society. How can this be compatible with Catholic social teaching?

 

 

The Church – the institution – has an age-old bad habit of arranging itself with the powers that be, starting with the Roman Empire, continuing with feudalism, monarchy, and fascism - and now corporate capitalism. The institution tends to mask the radical incompatibility between the truth it proclaims and the world of which it is a part. I see the dilemma. But the Church is there to proclaim the truth, let the chips fall where they may. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday, February 8, 2025

 Theses on the Postmodern Left





I am experimenting with a line of thought that goes like this. I believe justice requires all human beings be treated justly regardless of race, religion, sex, caste, or any other ascriptive factors. As a Christian, I believe it is my duty to love other human beings in the sense of willing their good and doing what is required of me to promote that good so far I can understand it – whether I happen to Iike them or admire them or not. I think it good that truth be told about the history of oppression: in America, the history of slavery, of ethnic cleansing, of violence against women, etc. That no human being is a “noble savage” matters not in the least here. I am not a saint, but that does not give another the right to keep me down with a boot on my throat.

    Yet I am troubled by the kind of "postmodern" identity politics that almost sees the meaning of life in the "freedom" to define your gender or "identity" such that the "marginalized" groups are privileged and the "other" (white men mostly) are suspect unless they wallow in guilt for the past sins of their kind. Two things trouble me above all. 1) the making a totalitarian-seeming ideology of this "Wokeness" (philosophical roots in Foucault, Derrida, and their followers) such that everything is the past is bad and every artwork - e.g. movies about fairy tales - has to be rewritten to make it compatible with the ideology. This seems exactly like what the former socialist states did with their ideology, or the Nazis, or even the Medieval Church at its worst (which was often). 2) I suspect this love of identity and victimhood has its roots in a narcissism that, as Christopher Lasch argued, has its roots in what social changes capitalism has wrought. I could do the same thing with MAGA, essentially the same phenomenon from another perspective. So here are some theses. Just theses.

 

Thesis 1: Postmodern Identity Politics Evolves into a Totalitarian Ideology of Narrative Purity

The reconfigured narratives championed by the postmodern left impose a singular, morally pristine account of history and culture, where deviation is rendered suspect

Imagine a regime where every public speech, every artwork, must pass an ideological litmus test—a strict code that forbids nuance. In contemporary “discourse” of the postmodern left, cultural treasures such as classic fairy tales are frequently rewritten, not merely updated, to excise any hint of historical ambiguity. For instance, modern adaptations of stories like Snow White recast traditional roles into binary archetypes of oppressor and oppressed. This is analogous to a totalitarian system that distorts history to enforce a doctrinaire vision, leaving no space for the complexities that once enriched the narrative tapestry of human experience. Reminds me of how the GDR recast everything through the filter of Marxism-Leninism or the Nazis everything through the filter of their racial ideology. (Actually, the GDR did allow some truthful art in the 80's.)

     Just look at the modern adaptation of Snow White that casts the heroine as a fierce, independent Latina. In this version, not only are traditional gender roles upended, but the narrative is also reshaped into a clear battle between an oppressive past and a liberatory future. The film presents a rigid moral dichotomy where the heroine’s success is measured solely by her ability to reject old paradigms, much like a state enforcing a single, approved narrative and suppressing any deviation from its moral code.

 

Thesis 2: The Narcissistic Cultivation of Victimhood Is a Direct Response to Capitalist Alienation

Capitalist societies, with their emphasis on individualism and consumer identity, foster a narcissistic impulse that manifests for some in the exaltation of personal and group victimhood (in others like the MAGA movement in nativist fantasies – two sides of the same coin).

   Envision a hall of mirrors where every individual’s reflection is amplified into an image of personal grievance. Under the pressures of a capitalist system that often leaves individuals feeling isolated and commodified, and where the market as become the dominant form of social consciousness (the master metaphor),  identity politics transforms victimhood into a badge of honor—a sort of moral capital. Like a collector hoarding rare stamps, people accumulate narratives of suffering as a means of validating their self-worth. This transformation of personal hardship into an emblem of ideological superiority echoes the transformation of raw, multifaceted human experience into a series of marketable identities, each vying for recognition in the ideological marketplace.

   Take, for example, a social media campaign that focuses on historical and personal injustices suffered by marginalized groups. Participants share carefully curated images and stories designed to evoke empathy and signal moral superiority. In such campaigns, the focus shifts from addressing systemic issues to showcasing individual suffering, turning personal pain into a competitive form of social capital. This mirrors the narcissistic impulse where the expression of victimhood becomes a way to command attention and validation in a market-driven cultural landscape. The people – perhaps truly the ancestors of the oppressed and indeed perhaps suffering real injustice in the present – began to see themselves as Rousseau’s “noble savages.” Caricaturing their humanity and the real injustice involved. Making compassion from the groups they “other” difficult or impossible.

 

Thesis 3: The Quest for Universal Justice Is Undermined by Divisive Identity Narratives

A shift from universal principles of justice to segmented, identity-specific claims fractures the common moral ground necessary for collective progress.

  Imagine society as a grand mosaic, where each unique tile contributes to a coherent, shared picture. The insistence on framing reality solely in terms of discrete identities—such as oppressor versus oppressed—risks shattering that mosaic into isolated fragments. When debates become about which group has suffered more or which narrative is more “authentic,” the possibility of uniting around a common human dignity is trashed. It is as if, in the quest for recognition, the very ground of shared experience is taken away, leaving behind only competing claims rather than a true vision of justice.

 

Thesis 4: The Politics of Memory Transforms History into a Didactic Tool

Historical narratives are increasingly recast as moral lessons designed to justify contemporary political agendas, rather than as objective accounts of complex events. Like a fairy tale in the real world. This does injustice to the victims of injustice as well as the oppressors.

    Consider history as a rich, layered tapestry, woven from countless threads of human experience. Under the influence of identity politics, this tapestry is often re-edited into a textbook of moral parables—each story streamlined to serve as evidence of systemic injustice. This process is similar to rewriting a classic novel, where extraneous details are removed to highlight a single, moralistic storyline. By doing so, the inherent complexity of historical events is lost, replaced by a neat, didactic account that supports a predetermined ideological narrative rather than fostering critical engagement with the past.

  A case of this ideological repurposing of history can be seen in the way the American and European colonial pasts are now often presented in educational materials. While past histories glossed over the horrors of imperialism, some contemporary revisions reduce these complex histories into a simple moral tale of absolute villains and innocent victims (noble savages). For instance, school curricula may emphasize only the brutality of European colonialism while neglecting historical instances of how local elites facilitating colonialism, or of indigenous warfare, internal slavery, or even cross-cultural exchanges and resistance movements. The fact that there are probably no noble savages doesn’t justify imperialism at all. The point is the sentimentalized version of history distorts truth to feed current identity politics. This selective approach resembles the way Soviet historiography systematically rewrote past events to fit the ideological needs of the present—erasing figures who no longer fit the Party’s narrative or retroactively assigning heroic roles to certain classes. The result is that history ceases to be a dynamic field of inquiry and instead becomes a set of moral lessons designed to reinforce contemporary ideological positions. Rather than helping students engage with history critically, this approach fosters an emotional response that encourages identification with a predetermined moral script.

 

Thesis 5: The Idealization of Suffering Turns Personal and Collective Pain into Symbolic Currency

In the realm of identity politics, suffering is not only experienced but is also elevated to a symbol of moral superiority, functioning as a form of currency in the ideological economy.

    Picture suffering as a rare coin – one that is collected, exchanged, and even flaunted as evidence of one’s rightful place within a moral hierarchy. In this framework, personal and communal hardships are transformed into badges of honor, each tear and each narrative of pain serving as a token of authenticity. This commodification of suffering mirrors a financial market where emotional capital is the prize, encouraging individuals to measure their worth by the depth of their misfortune rather than by their capacity for transformation. Consequently, the celebration of victimhood can sometimes distract from the tangible work needed to overcome adversity, reducing the struggle for justice to a series of emotionally charged transactions.

    Just think about political rallies or online movements where personal testimonials of pain are shared and celebrated as proof of one’s commitment to a cause. For instance, during discussions on social justice, individuals might present their personal histories of discrimination or trauma, which then become the primary measure of their legitimacy within the movement. This practice turns personal suffering into a commodity that not only validates one’s identity but also serves as an emotional bargaining chip in debates, sometimes overshadowing the need for concrete, systemic change.

 

Thesis 6: Sentimentality Is the Lens Through Which Reality Is Reimagined

The Foucaultian left transforms raw social experience by filtering it through a sentimental lens, turning affect into an instrument of ideological truth.

    Just as a stained-glass window refracts sunlight into a spectrum of colors, so too does sentimentality refract the complexities of life into neatly defined hues of victimhood and triumph. For example, when classic narratives are reworked—consider a version of Snow White where the heroine is a self-reliant Latina—what might have been a simple fairy tale is transformed into a tableau of personal empowerment and cultural redemption. The affective glow of such reinterpretations invites audiences to see not merely a story but a mirror reflecting their own fantasies of justice and recognition.

   A kind of public daydreaming, as Freud perspicuously analyzed in his “Der Dichter und das Phantasieren” (Artists and Fantasizing). Freud’s explores how artistic creation originates in fantasy, linking it to the wish-fulfillment mechanisms of childhood play and neurotic symptoms. He argues that the writer transforms private fantasies – often driven by repressed desires – into socially acceptable narratives, allowing the audience to indulge in similar daydreams under the guise of high art. In the case of sentimentality, we see a psychological process akin to what Freud describes: instead of engaging with reality in its full complexity, sentimental narratives construct an idealized world where emotions are exaggerated, conflicts are simplified, and suffering is moralized in a way that flatters the ego. This operates as a defense mechanism, shielding individuals from unpleasant truths while indulging their narcissistic need for self-affirmation. Just as Freud describes the neurotic’s retreat into fantasy as an escape from the frustrations of reality, sentimentality fosters a collective illusion—one in which historical guilt can be alleviated through symbolic representation, identity can be reinvented without friction, and moral righteousness is effortlessly obtained through emotional identification with the “right” kind of victim. In this way, sentimentality does not simply falsify reality; it reshapes it according to the narcissistic demands of those who consume it, much like Freud’s daydreamer reshapes the world of fantasy to compensate for unsatisfied desires.

 

Thesis 7: Sentimentality Falsifies Reality by Reducing Nuance to Binary Oppositions

By privileging emotional expression over analytical complexity, sentimental rhetoric oversimplifies social reality into categories of oppressor and oppressed.

     Imagine a black-and-white sketch that, while evocative, loses the depth of a full-color portrait. Similarly, the sentimental approach, with its focus on dramatic emotional arcs, turns multifaceted human experiences into stark binaries. This is evident when historical narratives are rewritten: the once-ambiguous shades of social dynamics are rendered as clear-cut tales of injustice and redemption. In doing so, the subtle interplay of social forces—much like the gradients in a masterful painting—is flattened into a simplistic, if moving, allegory.

 

Thesis 8: Narcissistic Self-Projection Is Integral to Sentimental Identity Politics

The sentimental mode of self-expression encourages individuals and groups to project an idealized, often self-adulatory image onto themselves, seeking affirmation through emotional validation.

     As Narcissus gazed into the reflective surface of a still pond, modern subjects are invited to see in the heroic figures of reimagined narratives a reflection of their own desired virtues. In the re-envisioned Snow White, the heroine’s journey is not just a tale of liberation but also an invitation for audiences to imbue their self-conception with a similar moral grandeur. The intense focus on personal empowerment and victimhood can become a form of narcissistic mirroring, where the celebration of one’s own resilience is both the means and the end of political expression.

 

Thesis 9: Historical Narratives Are Rewritten to Fit the Aesthetic of Sentimentality

Under the influence of sentimental rhetoric, history is not recounted but rather reinterpreted as a continuous narrative of moral struggle and eventual redemption.

     Think of a historical record as a complex tapestry woven from countless threads of experience. The sentimental approach, however, tends to isolate and amplify select threads, reweaving the tapestry into a singular narrative of oppression overcome by heroic defiance. The process is akin to editing a classic novel: entire chapters may be recast to highlight certain moral lessons while omitting the messy, unheroic details. In doing so, the past is not engaged with in its full complexity but is instead reshaped into a story that fits the aesthetic of contemporary ideological needs.

 

Thesis 10: Affect Functions as Currency in the Political Economy of Identity

In a sentimental framework, emotions are commodified—exchanged as markers of ideological worth and as proof of one’s moral standing.

     Just as money circulates in an economy, feelings circulate in the realm of identity politics as capital that can be spent, invested, or hoarded. An emotive outcry over injustice, or a cathartic display of resilience, is treated not merely as an expression but as a currency that validates one’s position within a moral community. For example, a film that underscores the emotional pain of historical marginalization invites viewers to “spend” their empathy in support of the cause, thereby transforming personal affect into a political resource. This transactional view of emotion reinforces the notion that our inner lives are the ultimate measure of ideological commitment.

 

Thesis 11: Sentimental Idealism Ultimately Obscures the Real Work of Political Tra nsformation

While offering immediate emotional gratification, the sentimental mode risks reducing social and political struggle to an aesthetic experience, bypassing the hard work of systemic change.

     Imagine a beautiful mural that captivates and inspires but does little to repair the crumbling wall it adorns. In much the same way, sentimental narratives – rich in emotional appeal of a counterfeit nature – can seduce us into believing that moral progress has been achieved without engaging in the rigorous, often painful work of restructuring society. Focussing on effect, while moving, may lull us into complacency; celebrating symbolic victories may overshadow the concrete steps needed to address persistent structural inequalities. Thus, sentimentality, by turning political engagement into a series of emotionally charged images, may detract from the sustained effort required to bring about real change.

 

Thesis 12: What is called “WOKE” (I dislike this term for it originally had a different meaning, one I approve of) – the reverse mirror of MAGA – is another example of how capitalism assimilates potentially revolutionary movements and domesticates them. (cf. Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man, a book I recall from my student days.)

 

a)    Capitalism as an Adaptive System. Rather than simply repressing opposition, capitalism co-opts and commodifies it. Radical ideas—whether political, social, or cultural—are stripped of their revolutionary edge and repackaged in a way that makes them palatable, even profitable. This allows capitalism to appear progressive and dynamic, while in reality, it neutralizes the transformative potential of the critique. 1960s Counterculture, for example, with its anti-materialist ethos, sexual liberation, and critique of consumerism, was absorbed into the very system it opposed. Free love became a marketing tool for selling everything from fashion to entertainment, while the rejection of materialism was repackaged as a personal lifestyle choice rather than a structural critique of capitalism. Today, wellness industries, mindfulness apps, and bohemian-chic brands allow consumers to "opt out" of the rat race—by purchasing a different set of products. The system does not eliminate critique; it turns it into a market niche.

 

b)   The Case of Identity Politics and ‘Woke Capitalism.’ The contemporary emphasis on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) has followed a similar trajectory. What may have begun as a serious critique of systemic injustice has been integrated into corporate branding, advertising, and HR policies. Major corporations now champion progressive causes—not necessarily because they are committed to real structural change, but because aligning with these movements enhances brand loyalty and market share. The irony is that the same multinational corporations that benefit from exploitative labor practices can rebrand themselves as champions of social justice simply by featuring diverse actors in their commercials or making symbolic political statements.

 

c)    The Mechanism: Depoliticization Through Sentimentality. Capitalism’s absorption of critique works by replacing structural analysis with sentimentality. Instead of addressing economic inequality, systemic injustice, or the conditions that create marginalization, the discourse is shifted toward personal feelings, representation, and symbolic victories. Consumers are offered the chance to feel virtuous through ethical consumption—buying the right brands, watching the right films, or using the right pronouns—while the underlying economic structures remain untouched.

 

d)    Feminism as a Brand. Originally, feminism aimed at dismantling patriarchal structures in both the workplace and the home. As long as this does not imply women becoming as bad as patriarchally-minded men – a woman CEO of a hedge fund is just as much in the service of a oppressive regime as a man CEO – I support any attempt to resist keeping women or anybody else down. Today, however, feminism is often presented as a matter of self-empowerment through consumption. "Girlboss" culture turns structural critiques of labor exploitation into slogans for individual success. A cosmetics company might claim to be feminist because it features diverse models or promotes body positivity while still profiting from underpaid labor in developing countries. The radical critique of economic injustice is thus transformed into an empowering "choice" within the existing system.

 

Thesis 13: The Root Problem is Capitalism

  The power of the modern corporation over practically every society on the face of the earth to control human consciousness, exploit the peoples of the earth and the earth itself on a global scale, and dissolve community bonds among people (and among communities and nature) is what must be ended. Its power over the state to write its own rules, over working people, over local communities, over nature, over consciousness (not only through its control of media but work and leisure and thus family life as well) – this power must be taken away. Peacefully I hope. I don’t want a terror like in the French Revolution. I don’t want to kill anyone much less liquidate a whole class. I just want their boots off our throats - our meaning most of the people of the earth. We may very well need a market, but the market cannot be allowed to take over the whole city as it has (Sandel). But anything that detracts from the problem of corporate capitalism is ideology.

   My own economic philosophy is eclectic:  I share most of the views Wendell Berry and E. F. Schumacher; I am sympathetic to the “alternative technology” movement of the 1970’s. I think the Catholic social teaching, interpreted honestly and courageously, would also move in that direction. Some aspects of Fabian socialism I agree with. Some free market is needed – with the proviso that it serves local communities and not destroy them. Whatever works as long as it respects people, and the families that people need, and the communities that families need, and the nature the communities need. Whatever works as long as it honors human dignity and the Creation by doing away with this wicked world-picture of a meaningless, indifferent nature of raw materials and energies to be mined and harnessed for capitalist technology and the individual presumably autonomous in the sense that a consumer is autonomous choosing between commodities (whereby everything is a commodity from work to religion).

    First, some form of democracy must be established that takes away capitalism’s monopoly over communication, in which there was freedom to present the devastating case against it. I think once people are freed from the mental prison they have been born into – Plato’s cave – all the Wokes and Magas and Tea parties and “moderate” liberals would give way to discussions based on reality and not ideology. Nothing will change for the better until we are free of this totalitarian economy. 

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