The situation is not hopeless, but a fast and internationally coordinated response is needed—much more than calls for volunteers to help in the fields. Government organizations need to be involved in mobilizing people to avert the crisis.
At this point, I can hear the laughter of my critics (as well as some friends) who mockingly note how the pandemic means that my time as a philosopher is over: who cares about a Lacanian reading of Hegel when the foundations of our existence are threatened? Even Žižek now has to focus on how to bring in the harvest.
But these critics couldn’t be more wrong.
More and more, it has become a genuine conflict of global visions about society.
In the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup, Groucho (as a lawyer defending his client in court) says: “He may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot but don’t let that fool you. He really is an idiot.” Something along these lines should be our reaction to those who display a basic distrust of the state by seeing the lockdown as a conspiracy designed to deprive us of our basic freedoms: “The state is imposing lockdown orders that curtail our liberty, and it expects us to police one another to ensure compliance; but this should not fool us—we should really follow the lockdown orders.
The US libertarian Right claims lockdowns should be eased in order to give people back their freedom of choice. That raises the question: what freedom?
The “free choice” is, here, one between starvation and risking your life.
it is reasonable to see the ongoing pandemic as announcing a new era of ecological troubles.
The pandemic reminds us that we remain firmly rooted in bodily existence with all dangers that this implies.
Does this mean our situation is hopeless? Absolutely not.
A new way of life will have to be invented.
The first thing that strikes me is that, contra to the cheap motto “we are now all in the same boat,” class divisions have exploded. At the very bottom of the hierarchy, there are those (refugees, people caught in war zones) whose lives are so destitute that Covid-19 is for them not the main problem.
But nurses are only the most visible part of a whole class of caretakers who are exploited, although not in the way the old working class of the Marxist imaginary is exploited; as David Harvey puts it, they form a “new working class”:
“The workforce that is expected to take care of the mounting numbers of the sick, or to provide the minimal services that allow for the reproduction of daily life, is, as a rule, highly gendered, racialized, and ethnicized. This is the ‘new working class’ that is at the forefront of contemporary capitalism. Its members have to bear two burdens: at one and the same time, they are the workers most at risk of contracting the virus through their jobs, and of being laid off with no financial resources because of the economic retrenchment enforced by the virus.
This new working class was here all along, the pandemic just propelled it into visibility.
They are the truly over-exploited: exploited when they work (since their work is largely invisible), and exploited even when they don’t work, in their very existence.
We perceived quarantine as a limited time of exception, an almost welcome standstill in our all-too-busy lives affording us some peace with our families, some time to read books and listen to music, and to enjoy cooking meals, in the knowledge that it will be over soon.
Only now are we forced to accept that we are entering a new era in which we will have to learn to live with the virus.
as the German virologist Hendrik Streeck succinctly put it: There is “no second or third wave—we are in a permanent wave.”
This fascination with the numbers automatically makes us forget the obvious fact that many more people are dying from cancer, heart attacks, pollution, hunger, armed conflicts, and domestic violence, as though if we get Covid-19 infections fully under control, the main cause of our troubles will disappear. Instead, human life will remain full of miseries and, in some sense, human life IS a misery that ends painfully, often with meaningless suffering.
Furthermore, the link between the Covid-19 pandemic and our ecological predicament is becoming ever more clear.
Greta Thunberg was right when she recently pointed out that “the climate and ecological crisis cannot be solved within today’s political and economic systems.”
Just think about all the long-frozen bacteria and viruses waiting to be reactivated with the thawing of permafrost!
The same goes for the link between Covid-19 and the anti-racist protests erupting around the world. The only effective answer to the ongoing debate about the assertion that “Black lives matter” (e.g., why shouldn’t we instead say, “all lives matter”?), is a wonderfully brutal meme now circulating in the US, which depicts Stalin holding a poster that reads: “No lives matter.”
The kernel of truth in this provocation is that there are things that matter more than bare life—is this not also the primary message of those protesting police violence against Black people?
Does this mean that Giorgio Agamben was right when he rejected state-imposed lockdowns and self-isolation as measures that imply reducing our lives to mere existence—in
The problem with this stance is that, today, the main proponents of abolishing lockdowns are to be found in the populist new Right: its members see in all similar restrictive measures—from lockdowns to the obligatory wearing of masks—the erosion of our freedom and dignity.
This brings us to the key point: the contradictory way the Covid-19 pandemic has affected the economy. On the one hand, it has forced authorities to do things that at times almost point toward Communism: a form of Universal Basic Income, healthcare for all, etc. However, this unexpected opening for Communism is just one side of the coin. Simultaneously, opposite processes are asserting themselves violently, with corporations amassing wealth and being bailed out by states.
The contours of corona-capitalism are gradually emerging, and with them new forms of class struggle—or, to quote Joshua Simon, writer and curator from Philadelphia: “US cities have seen the largest rent strike in decades, at least 150 worker strikes and walkouts (most notably by Amazon warehouse workers), and hunger strikes in refugee detention facilities. At the same time, research shows that US billionaires increased their collective wealth by $282 billion in just twenty-three days during the initial weeks of the coronavirus lockdown.
In these conditions, it is no longer primarily the capitalist who owns the means of production and hires workers to operate them: “the worker brings with her the means of production.
Simon evokes the poster held by Sarah Mason at an anti-lockdown protest: “Social Distancing Equals Communism.”
The paradox here is that both of the main variants of the corona-economy—working at home in lockdown and running deliveries of things like food and packages—are similarly subsumed to capital and imply extra-exploitation.
But what we need even more is a new economic order that will allow us to avoid the debilitating choice between economic revival and saving lives.
One can easily discern in such violent outbursts a reaction to the immobility imposed by social distancing and quarantine—it is reasonable to expect that more acts like these will follow
all around the world, and one should not restrain oneself from voicing the suspicion that the explosive worldwide anti-racist passion, although it is not just an outburst of meaningless violence but an expression of a progressive cause, obeys a similar logic: thousands threw themselves into anti-racist protests with a kind of relief that they were again able to tackle something that is not a stupid virus but “just” a social struggle with a clear enemy.
We are, of course, dealing here with very different types of violence.
There is a key feature shared by the three types of violence in spite of their differences: none of them expresses a minimally-consistent socio-political program. It may appear that the anti-racist protests meet this criterion, but they fail insofar as they are dominated by the Politically Correct passion to erase traces of racism and sexism—a passion that gets all too close to its opposite, the neoconservative thought-control.
The reason I mention this is that I think the recent urge to cleanse our culture and education of all traces of racism and sexism courts the danger of falling into the same trap as the Catholic Church’s index: what remains if we discard all authors in whom we find some traces of racism and anti-feminism? Quite literally all the great philosophers and writers disappear.
This is why, for a Cartesian philosopher, ethnic roots and national identity are simply not a category of truth. This is also why Descartes was immediately popular among women: as one of his early readers put it, cogito—the subject of pure thinking—has no sex.
Today’s claims about sexual identities as socially constructed and not biologically determined are only possible against the background of the Cartesian tradition—there is no modern feminism and anti-racism without Descartes’s thought.
Modern feminism and anti-racism emerged out of this long emancipatory tradition, and it would be sheer madness to leave this noble tradition to obscene populists and conservatives. The same argument applies to many disputed political figures.
So, while we should be ruthlessly critical about our past (and especially the past that persists in our present), we should not succumb to self-contempt—respect for others based on self-contempt is always and by definition false. The paradox is that in our societies, the whites who participate in anti-racist protests are mostly upper-middle class whites who hypocritically enjoy their guilt.
“Every time a man has contributed to the victory of the dignity of the spirit, every time a man has said no to an attempt to subjugate his fellows, I have felt solidarity with his act.
Frantz Fanon
Instead of perversely enjoying our guilt (and thereby patronizing the true victims), we need active solidarity: guilt and victimhood immobilize us. Only when we all act together, treating ourselves and each other as responsible adults, can we beat racism and sexism.
No wonder freedom-loving liberals are enthusiastic about the events in Belarus, seen as proof that even the threat of Covid-19 is no match for a good old-fashioned mass protest. For a brief moment, at least, the pandemic was relegated to the background, and we returned to the well-known scenario of the masses toppling “the last dictator in Europe”—Minsk as a new Kyiv.
However, this joyful enthusiasm for democracy has its own blind spot.
Lukashenko achieved economic stability, safety, and order, with a per capita income much higher than in the “free” Ukraine, and distributed in a much more egalitarian way.
That is to say, one should bear in mind the reason behind Lukashenko’s relative popularity in previous years: he was tolerated, even accepted in some circles, precisely because he offered a safe haven against the ravages of wild liberal capitalism (corruption, economic and social uncertainty,) Now the situation is clear: a large majority wants to get rid of the tyrant.
Problems begin after the people win—against whom do you protest in democracy? Since there is no clearly visible tyrant, the temptation is to search for an invisible master who pulls the strings (like the Jews who control the “deep state”).
Lacan is evoking here the phrase “le pere ou pire (the father or worse), implying a dire warning of how the final outcome of anti-patriarchal rebellions can be a leader worse than the deposed patriarch.
If we replace Achilles by “forces of democratic uprising” and the tortoise by the ideal of “liberal democratic capitalism”, we soon realize that most countries cannot get close to this ideal, and that their failure to reach it expresses weaknesses of the global capitalist system itself.
Additionally, we are forced to realize that while pro-democracy protesters strive to catch-up to the liberal capitalist West, there are clear signs that, economically and politically, the developed West itself is entering what can only be called a post-capitalist and post-liberal era—a dystopian one, of course.
The true choice is thus: what kind of post-capitalism will we find ourselves in?
For this reason, the new US TV series Euphoria (described in publicity materials as following “a group of high school students as they navigate drugs, sex, identity, trauma, social media, love and friendship”) almost portrays the opposite of the life of today’s high schoolers. It is out of touch with today’s youth and, for this reason, weirdly anachronistic—more an exercise in middle-aged nostalgia for how depraved the younger generations once were.
But we should take a step further here: what if there never was an entirely “real” sex with no virtual or fantasized supplement?
On the set of a porn film an actor lost his erection mid-scene—to coax it back, he turned away from the woman, naked below him, grabbed his phone and searched Pornhub. Which struck me as vaguely apocalyptic.”
To this I would add the lesson of psychoanalysis: something is constitutively rotten in the state of sex—human sexuality is in itself perverted, exposed to sadomasochist reversals and, specifically, to the mixture of reality and fantasy.
We cannot reduce this gap between the bodily reality of my partner and the universe of fantasies to a distortion opened up by patriarchy and social domination or exploitation—the gap is there from the very beginning. So I quite understand the actor who, in order to regain an erection, searched Pornhub—he was looking for a fantasmatic support for his performance.
When one makes love with someone they truly love, touching their partner’s body is crucial. One should therefore invert the common wisdom according to which sexual lust is bodily while love is spiritual: sexual love is more bodily than sex without love.
For a typical married couple, all the usual excuses for avoiding sex are invalidated when they are quarantined (“sorry, no sex tonight, we have to visit friends or I have to finish some work”),
and in a desperate search for an obstacle to the sexual duty, they interpose between themselves a plastic doll. The paradox is that what serves as an obstacle to the sexual relationship is a sexualized object par excellence.
Hopefully, however, a new appreciation of intimate bodily contact will also arise out of the pandemic, and we will learn again the lesson of Andrei Tarkovsky for whom earth—inert, humid matter—is not opposed to spirituality but is its very medium. In Tarkovsky’s masterpiece Mirror, his father Arseny Tarkovsky recites his own lines: “A soul is sinful without a body, like a body without clothes.”
Masturbating to hardcore images is sinful, while bodily contact is a path to the spirit.
Both extremes are to be avoided in interpreting the significance of Neuralink: we should neither celebrate it as an invention that opens the path toward Singularity (a divine collective self-awareness) nor fear it as a signal that we will lose our individual autonomy and become cogs in a digital machine.
Even if we ignore the technical feasibility of this dream, just think what would happen to the process of erotic seduction if human minds directly (outside of language) shared experiences with one another.
Imagine a seduction scene between two subjects whose brains are wired so that one’s train of thought is accessible to the other: if my prospective partner can directly experience my intention, what remains of the intricacies of seduction games? The whole thing would be over in seconds.
More fundamentally, the distance between our inner life (the movement of our thoughts) and external reality is the basis of our perception of ourselves as free: we are free in our thoughts precisely insofar as they are at a distance from reality,
Once our inner life is directly linked to reality so that our thoughts have immediate material consequences (or can be manipulated by a machine that is part of reality) and are in this sense no longer “ours,” we effectively enter a post-human state.
We mustn’t forget that if I can directly regulate processes in reality with my thoughts (I just think that my coffee machine should prepare a latte macchiato and it happens), the implication is that the causal link also works in the opposite direction: those who control the digital machine that “reads my mind” can also control my mind and implant thoughts into it.
The fragile balance between communal life and the private sphere characteristic of pre-pandemic society is replaced by a new constellation in which the diminishing of space for actual/bodily social interaction (due to quarantines, etc.) doesn’t lead to more privacy but gives birth to new norms of social dependency and control—don’t forget that even drones were deployed to control us in quarantine.
What we need now is not only more physical proximity to others but more psychic distance from them.
As Naomi Klein explains, the project announced by Cuomo and Schmidt proposes “to reimagine New York state’s post-Covid reality, with an emphasis on permanently integrating technology into every aspect of civic life.” Klein calls this proposal the “Screen New Deal”; it promises safety from infection while maintaining all the personal freedoms liberals care for—but can it work?
Here is Klein’s critical description of this vision of a “permanent—and highly profitable—no-touch future”: “It’s a future in which our homes are never again exclusively personal spaces but are also, via high-speed digital connectivity, our schools, our doctor’s offices, our gyms, and, if determined by the state, our jails. [. . .] for the privileged, almost everything is home delivered, either virtually via streaming and cloud technology, or physically via driverless vehicle or drone, then screen ‘shared’ on a mediated platform. It’s a future that employs far fewer teachers, doctors, and drivers. It accepts no cash or credit cards (under guise of virus control) and has skeletal mass transit and far less live art. It’s a future that claims to be run on ‘artificial intelligence’ but is actually held together by tens of millions of anonymous workers tucked away in warehouses, data centers, content moderation mills, electronic sweatshops, lithium mines, industrial farms, meat-processing plants, and prisons, where they are left unprotected from disease and hyperexploition.”
First is the paradox that those privileged enough to afford to live in the no-touch space are also the most controlled: their entire life is transparent to the true seat of power, an “unprecedented collaboration between government and tech giants [. . .] with public schools, hospitals, doctor’s offices, police, and military all outsourcing (at a high cost) many of their core functions to private tech companies.”
In short, as Klein proposes, should they not be transformed into nonprofit public utilities? Without a similar move, democracy in any meaningful sense is de facto abolished, since the basic component of our commons—the shared space of our communication and interaction—is placed under private control.
Second, the Screen New Deal intervenes into class struggle at a very precise point.
The Screen New Deal plans to minimize the visible role of this caretaker-class who have to remain non-isolated, largely unprotected, exposing themselves to viral danger so that we, the privileged, can survive in safety.
New forms of class struggle will erupt here