Karl Marx & the neo-conservatives: an illicit love affair

This article is going to be full of half-estimations and semi-shaped arguments. You have been warned in advance. If it's any consolation, I think that I am in some way right about all this. To put it in the form of a single sentence, in a simple approximation that should leave little lingering in confusion: Marx is the darling of the neo-cons. Even if they don't admit it; especially if they don't admit it.

Ideologically speaking, the neo-conservative consensus grew up in America, a kind of antithesis of communism, it literally made a monster out of traditional capitalism. Let me explain. Marx gave an excellent approximation of late nineteenth century capitalism, its abuses, its exploitation of the lower classes, which he held all lead to inequality and entrenched class divisions.

But that wasn't all that Marx's theory was about. An early Marx thought up a reason for the deplorability of his world, an explanation, a deep, philosophical, psychological reason even. In doing so he perhaps misunderstood something, or shifted a focus from something altogether more fundamental. In turn, he created the conditions for neoconservativism, as strange as that may seem. Let me explain my train of thought here.

Marx had an idea that the worker was alienated from the stuff that he or she made because of the system of production, which meant that they did not make the stuff themselves, for themselves or their close friends and family. In such a way, in a paradox, this very alienation drove them to buy the products, in the hope that they would overcome the alienation they felt from the products that they were always already removed from, in the production of the products, through the advent of mass production. The system, Marx seemed to be saying, was self-perpetuating alienation amongst the masses.

All this is true. All one has to see is the lengths that advertisers go to to make their products more familial, often linking them to deep, base human experiences and emotions such as love, longing, envy, family and irony. Still, there are certain things about this approximation that are problematic. These have to do with a narrowing of focus, like a search light too close to a wall, when it should be further away, illuminating much more of the wall in a huge halo of bright orange light.

In focussing on one aspect of human experience, not alienation itself, but linking it solely and primarily with economics and production, Marx paved the way for neoconservativism. His goal was to break free from this alienation, to find a centred human, one not at odds with his or her surroundings, away from systems which breed inequality, systems which he found existed primarily within the realm of the production of capital.

You can see his logic here. However, I still think that he was being too reductive in his analysis. If we skip forward roughly six decades after the time of Marx, we find a french philosopher named Jacques Derrida putting another name, another face upon the idea of Humanity's alienation from its true nature, its fall. Only this time, there was no fall as event, as a happening, as an explanation, as a beginning or an origin. Rather, there was a sense of alienation, a sense of a fall, one which is always happening, but that has already happened, especially at that moment it enters conscious thought, and presents itself as a problem, which makes us sit back and think: "How do I get back to that place that I once was?" or "How do I get to where I should be?"

This is alienation; this is addiction; this is desire; this is a fundamental condition of language, Derrida held. We enter into a system grander than economy, grander than societies and cultures even; we enter into language. Following Freud and Lacan for a moment, this alienates us from ourselves to varying degrees. Or to put it more succinctly, meaning - always linked with the self - and individuation are in flux, possibly multiplicious, and always other. The Buddhist dictum, that to forget the self is to approach enlightenment, is a clear approximation of this.

I am going to say something strange here, but just as much as the self doesn't exist, neither does language, if we take the approach that the primary tension is between the self and language. That is to say, neither exist without the other, without a crystalisation AWAY from each other, but also WITH each other, beside each other, maybe even within each other. AWAY, because they have to take on different shapes. WITH, because these shapes take their conditions from each other. We can only talk of the tension. That is not to say that nothing lies beyond that tension, that there is no peace to life. Only to say that this unconscious state would not be satisfactory if we ever to get anything done!

This is why, I think, Derrida says that deconstruction is a way of cheating death, even though death in this sense, of the flow of language, and its strangeness/normalness, is not possible. Or it is only possible in the radical sense of the extinction of the species along with every shred and scrap of everything that was ever written, drawn, recorded, or e-mailed (unlikely given Voyager 1's journey across the stars). The death that Derrida speaks is a death that lies in the goal of idealism, of a perfect truth, that silences all others. If all other voices are silenced, then there is no conversation. There is thus no oppurtunity to call something a truth. Derrida just never wants the conversation to end. This echoes Simon Critchley's approximation when he says that Derrida's problem was that he didn't know when to stop. (Critchley is a fan, by the way.)

And so, getting back to Marx, we can say that the alienation is symptomatic of modes of production, but not exclusively. What are the effects of Marx putting such an emphasis on the acheivement of some sort of ultimate happiness through the abolition of capitalism? I think that it laid the stage for a rhetoric which in turn forced capitalism into its modern guise of being.

Here we should reflect for a moment upon how conservativism's link with ideologies of capitalism has its roots in Marx. In labelling capitalism - its approximation, its definition, which Marx helped define - as the cause of human alienation, the cause of the fall, Marx had linked it with societal structures and class division. These are essentially with things that were and are linked with deepseated ideologies such as the approximations of selfhood and community; such as the nationstate; even of class divisions themselves. In doing so conservativism was excluded from any movement that would grow up around the theory.

Another consequnce was the building up of a theory of conservative capitalism, or some intrinsic link between the two, which strengthened and strengthened during the second half of the twentieth century, especially with the advent (or lack) of the Cold War.

Enter the neo conservatives. What was Thatcher's and Reagan's biggest coup de gras? They appealed to people who didn't think things were so bad, who were happy with their station in life, who wanted security and a decent life, who generally supported the status. A status quo that Marx helped define, helped make other.

While there are many other factors involved, brilliantly illustrated by Adam Curtis in All watched over by machines of loving grace, it still remains a fact that these two darlings of conservativism tapped into a zeitgeist of some description.

Here it is important to note that it is not simply, and has never simply been, Socialism versus the behemoth of capitalism. Rather, this is a battles of ideologies, of wills. In its late twentieth century stage, we are dealing with a highly codified argument or discussion, with rules and traditions, angels and demons, which perhaps have outstayed their welcome. In Marx's emphasis on money as the root of all evil, he also set the stage for the rise of money, enticing politicians such as Margaret Thatcher to believe that no one should receive social welfare; Thatcher who, along with Reagan, brought the term Taxpayer into the realm of politico speek, and defined us all as such. Nodes, in an economy, in a market, which will work itself out, as if balance in nature were the natural order of things. If we follow Derrida's train of though, that the resolution or truth of an argument, discussion or discourse is a death, then this assumed balance can only be thought of as a kind of death wish. Considering the current global economic crisis that began with the reckless shortsightedness of Wall St. bankers, this may not be too far off the mark.

And what of Marx? It was a critical misunderstanding that painted the tragedy of Marxist thought. In painting a picture of such a violent and original opposition to the other of the capitalist system which naturally led to alienation, he alienated many, who in turn were forced to deal with Marx, albeit unknowingly, and appropriate his thought. "If he thinks that capitalism alienates," they said in some higher realm of reductivity, "and this is the primary source of human alienation, and we are against his thought in all its forms, then capitalism is the ultimate form of human organisation, and people are just cogs in its machine."

Marxist thought is valuable. But we should never forget that alienation exists in language itself, its usage, and the never-quite-fixed nature of meaning. To rationalise everything as economic is to create a system of thought which raises the economic above all else. This is the age we live in, this is neo-conservative theory, this is Marx's theory.

We live in a Marxist age. Contrary to popular rhetoric, our most pertinent task at hand is to undo a very Marxist ideology, which is based in and around America, which found its roots there and took spring, flourished in itself, in universities, civil rights movements, student movements, but also, crucially, among the rich and the wealthy, among bankers, among the religious, among the ultra-conservatives. Because we all feel alienated, in one way or another; they simply found blame and solace respectively in a vision of THE economy, in seeds sown by Marx, many years ago. One of our jobs is to undo Marx, to present a new paradigm, and not to fall into this old trap again and again.

Introduction to an Essay on Derrida, Baudrillard, and New Media

Derrida speaks of the archive being similar to Freud’s death drive, a drive towards a radical finality, the desire to destroy the subject (or, subjectivity) through what could be termed excessive narrativity. This is the desire for consensus, for commonality, for shared experience, or for the finality of nothingness, the utopia of silence where language destroys itself.

This drive could be called a very human desire, and it is present everywhere. The issue at hand is not whether or not this drive is positive or negative. That is the impossible choice. That is not to say that the question should not be asked, and that both viewpoints should not be explored. They should be explored. But in order to look at Derrida and Baudrillard’s views on new media, on facebook specifically, in light of events which happened after both of these men’s deaths (and we engage in the impossible mourning of these men), we must take into account their extreme caution with regards to, on one hand, the archiving archive, and on the other the death of the other and the construction of a virtual world in light of the fact that they may actually have transcended that question.

This is impossible, and truly, interminably so - to transcend opinion. So I will address this question at the beginning. Both are cynical French men, and both seem to have an extreme kind of aversion to new media. On the surface, this is true, regardless of the content and strength of their respective arguments. But who is to say that the positive cannot be gleamed from the negative, and vice versa? Derrida’s deconstruction is a scary thing, a scary prospect, and at times infinitely sad. But this in some ways is the nature of his project, to unleash the repressed (that which is repressed always holds negative connotations), and to make the natural unnatural. So, should we not expect a certain amount of trepidation, and an apparent and almost infinite kind of negativity when speaking about new media? After all, it is a new technology with unknown possibilities which is changing our world in ways we can only guess (and we can always only guess at the ways in which the world will change). My point is is that Derrida’s extreme caution, almost a warning (contained within Archive Fever, itself contained within what has been deemed Derrida’s ethical turn, a turning point in the archive of Jacques Derrida) is in some ways in keeping with the nature of the rate of change that new media is affecting our world, coupled with the fact that deconstruction is always a warning, always examining demons we didn’t know were there. (Did they exist before the point of deconstruction? This is where the warning comes in, the warning of deconstruction, about the unspoken possibilities inherent within a sign or a system, always a warning, always a hope.)

The other cynical French man who I speak of is Jean Baudrillard, who has termed his work a radical fiction. What does he mean by this? I think he is referring to the hyperbole that runs through all his work. It is a hyperbole which insists that the world is going to end tomorrow, in the next second. It suggests an ending, an infinite ending, brought about by the inconsistencies contained within the system. He is in the tradition of Marx, and perhaps even more radical and pushy in his insistence of the dangers of the flaws within the system. The radical fiction which he speaks of is the assumption that the flaws within the system will destroy it at any moment, and as such they are so enormous as to take precedence over all other things that can be said or written about said system.

But is there not a value in this type of criticism? Baudrillard himself seems to think so. It’s as if this type of extreme criticism can go to certain dark corners which a more sober approach (or what we deem to be a more sober approach) would not or could not go to. And besides, he may be describing and defining the system more than would be possible otherwise. Think about Marx’s critique of capitalism. Was there a capitalism before Marx? Or, rather, was there a capitalism as defined by Marx before Marx? Of course not. But, then, the way in which we understand capitalism today, liberal or conservative, rests on some basic assumptions first articulated, perhaps even created by Marx. That is not to say that they didn’t exist before Marx, simply that they were not spoken of, that they were to a certain degree repressed and, as such, deemed natural and immutable. Marx created the language with which to speak about capitalism, deeming it speakable (not repressed) and thus unnatural.

In a way, Derrida and Baudrillard are students of Marx (Baudrillard blatantly so). All of them seek to make the natural unnatural, to draw out the repressed, through various strategic methods. We should not be afraid of uttering the names Baudrillard and Derrida in the same sentence, despite notable differences between the two and the different ways in which they’ve respectively been received amongst the intelligentsia and in academia. The prophet and the fool, both occupy these categories, and perhaps these are natural enough positions which both their legacies find themselves in. Both are treated like fools; both are treated with the reverence of the prophet.

Angst against the machine

Technology is ever evolving. In today's world of high-tech wizardry, it can be hard keeping up. The laptop you bought last year is probably already out of date. 20 years after the inception of the World Wide Web it is hard to imagine a world without it.

Science fiction author and scientist Arthur C. Clarke famously said that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. We may be close to entering into such an age, where all our dreams are realised. But is this a false pariah, a pipe dream? Are we building machines which will one day be the conscious architects of our destruction? Or is the whole thing a foolish fantasy, fueled by “magical” devices, and a dangerous fantasy at that? And what does it all mean?

Some think that this age of invention and technical achievement will not bode well for humanity. Some think that the technological achievement that we've seen in the last century may overtake humanity. Machines will be able to create better machines, which will in turn create better machines, until they overtake us. We will enter a brave new world, where our own technology is master.

The theory goes that at the very least we will then face an existential crisis. In the worst case scenario (if Hollywood is to be believed), our entire species will be marked for termination (The Terminator series), or we will be used as batteries while being deceived into thinking that we are living in the 'real world' (The Matrix series). This point is known as the singularity.

It was first proposed by science fiction author Vernor Vinge in the 1980s. In 1993 he proclaimed that “within 30 years, we will have the technical means to create superhuman intelligence. Shortly after, the human era will be ended.”

It is based on Moore's Law. It describes advances in computer technology in the twentieth century. Advances in processing power happened exponentially and not linearly, and have been made at a startling rate. Moore's law will end, it is predicted, in the 2020s, when computing technology will hit a brick wall.

Vinge's analysis rests on the fact that machines are on the way to becoming more intelligent than ourselves, and this brick wall in technological innovation as described by Moore's law actually represents the point when machine intelligence will break away from its master. At that point, all bets are off.

Though there have been many advances in artificial intelligence (AI), Noel Sharkey, Professor of Artificial Intelligence and Robotics at Sheffield University, is skeptical:

“I would have to say that I am very doubtful of them ever having any type of consciousness like ours. AI is taking quite a different route into intelligence than the biological.

“At present I see no reason to believe that AI will approach or overtake our own intelligence in the next couple of hundred years or so,” he says.

Not only that, but Sharkey thinks that the belief that humanity will be overtaken by its machines may prove to be a very dangerous one.

“The danger is that when people in powerful positions outside of AI (like politicians or the military) form inaccurate beliefs about the current state of the subject they can make bad decisions. An example is having autonomous military robots that make decisions about who to kill when the fact is that we do not have any automatic way to tell the difference between a civilian, a combatant or a wounded soldier and never mind reasoning about the decision. Thus innocent people could lose their lives because of false beliefs.”

A worst case scenario, Sharkey thinks, is that the powerful take advantage of this misplaced faith in technology. It could even be the model for a futuristic dictatorship.

The singularity may be a fantasy, but a dangerous one.

Some see it differently. For futurist Ray Kurzweil the singularity is a reality and represents a great opportunity for the human race. But he believes that artificial intelligence that supersedes our own is not a necessary outcome.

He doesn't see the singularity as a machine takeover. He sees it as a time when we will merge with our machines, living longer, and experiencing more, perhaps even achieving immortality.
This is the nice side of the singularity – utopia compared to Vinge's machine-controlled dystopia.

Theorist Kevin Kelly also believes that the singularity will occur. He too takes the same optimistic view as Kurzweil, free from killer robots. Kevin Kelly also holds that the universe, and everything in it (hence us), works in a similar way to a computer.

“I think that human consciousness is a type of computation. I affirm that nature itself is a type of computation,” he says.

However, here too lies a problem. It may be more pertinent than the concept of the singularity and AI. It is the assumption that the human mind is computational in nature, and that the whole universe is a giant computer. Sharkey agrees.

“It would probably help if we had even the vaguest idea what consciousness is.

“Some argue that consciousness and sentience is not all that important for computing machines. But at the minute sentient machines are the only things on the planet exhibiting intelligence and so I don't see how we can argue that we don't need sentience for intelligence before we produce a machine that exhibits genuine intelligence.”

“It is easy to say that some machine will do this or that in the future and then use that as it was a fact and use it to build arguments. But arguments based on false premises are meaningless - anything can follow,” Sharkey holds.

“When you work in AI and robotics, you come to appreciate how incredible living things are. My main research for many years was on developing learning machines that modelled parts of human thinking (cognition) and animal behaviour. This threw light on some aspects of living creatures but it also made me marvel at the beauty and creativeness of life and how far away we were from understanding it.”

A belief in the singularity presents technology as the great emancipator or, conversely, the great destroyer. The risk lies with mistaking human consciousness as computational. By inferring that AI can reach a similar level or type of consciousness as ourselves, the implication is that we too are based on the same principles as AI: that we are somehow computational in nature.
In 1998 Kevin Kelly wrote an article in Whole Earth entitled The Computational Metaphor outlining the fact that computational language is a metaphor.

“Is this embrace a trick of language? Yes, but that is the unseen revolution. We are compiling a vocabulary and a syntax that is able to describe in a single language all kinds of phenomena that have escaped a common language until now. It is a new universal metaphor,” Kelly writes.

“It has more juice in it than previous metaphors: Freud's dream state, Darwin's variety, Marx's progress, or the Age of Aquarius. And it has more power than anything else in science at the moment. In fact the computational metaphor may eclipse mathematics as a form of universal notation.”

Kelly recognises that the computational metaphor is a powerful one, not confined to humanity, but extending right across the whole cosmos. This is staggering, echoing Darwin's evolution in its scope, but cranking things up a notch (Darwin focused mostly on life; the computational metaphor focuses on the whole universe).

Kelly wrote, “the computational metaphor was already halfway to winning.” It is, however, not something without an air of tension surrounding it.

The idea that we can create intelligent machines which will take over may be laughable whether we live in a computational universe or not. But the singularity may still have a certain kind of reality.

It may ultimately represent an expression of a disparity between the individual and the universal metaphor of computation. Are we all computers, the same as the universe, also computational in nature?

Even more so than Darwin's metaphor of evolution, it forces us to question our place at the top. Before Darwin we were made in God's image; after Darwin we were the best that life could produce. But with the computational metaphor, where do we stand?

Though the singularity may prove to be a damp squib, it at least highlights this discrepancy. In a world where the singularity is real, the computers don't need us. That is to say that the computational universe doesn't need us. We are no longer the pinnacle of creation.

The singularity may be a form of existential angst against the computational metaphor.

We may indeed end up hurtling towards a singularity of sorts. For every reading of Marx there's someone to remind you about Communist Russia. For all the wonders that Darwin showed us there's always someone to remind us of the Holocaust. And for all of Freud's insight there's always that self important twat you know.

Noel Sharkey's warnings about the limits of AI should not go unheeded. A misplaced belief in the thinking power of these machines may be the cause of many problems in the future.

But, more interestingly, what are the implications of a computational metaphor? Where will it lead us?

In the end, it may be best that people remember that a metaphor is a way of describing things, and that there can be many ways of describing things.