The left was the catalyst of the success of the populist right. Globalism was the bomb that was waiting to explode. The left lit it. The splinters are still flying everywhere. Some have got stuck in the eyes of some on the left. This is an essay on removing the splinters from those eyes. We need to face our about-face. Anti-Globalism lit the splinter bomb and then climate-globalism made everyone run for shelter in the slogans of the populist right.
Can we have (climate) globalism without having (capitalist) Globalism?
That is the question.
There are many who focus on life’s precariousness or its intrinsic vulnerability for good reason. They want to protect us from the many threats that we face. It is, however, quite a precarious thing to highlight our intrinsic vulnerability to extrinsic threats. Indeed, as soon as we feel vulnerable we feel alone. And when we feel alone we get our defenses up to the extent we do not want to let anyone in. This much is clear from our reaction to the various immigration crises around the world. Focusing on a first person’s precariousness creates the third person’s threat; me and him, us and them.
What the feeling of precariousness does is create the feeling of a Hobbesian dog-eat-dog world. We may then have good intentions, even be convinced with Rousseau that man or nature unspoiled is intrinsically good, but the result is the same: the struggle to retrieve a long lost freedom is our essence. As Derrida deconstructed it, the arrow points backward instead of forward. And that’s not good because whatever way you look at it, we will live our lives predominantly in the future.
The question is: ‘Can we do better?’. My answer is: ‘Yes, we can!’ Here’s why.
Posted in myself
Tagged climate, competition, consolation, Derrida, Hobbes, love, personal, Rousseau, time, Un PoCo PoMo, Wittgenstein
The chance of there being an unconscious typo in the title is about as big as that of Freud not having slipped up. If it appears I am talking in riddles that is only because you feel that there is something to decipher. One thing is certain: philosophers are weird. So am I. Even if that doesn’t establish anything as far as me being a philosopher, you got my drift.
Let us wonder a while about the weirdness of philosophers. They have come up with waves and particles, with particulars and universals. Then they calculated and associated to come to one invariable conclusion: neither the one nor the other, or both at the same time but in an at most a superficial manner. Philosophers say they despair about this. That is merely a mask they wear to ensure somebody feeds them. If they’re particularly power hungry they will even exclaim they’ve solved it. Solutions sell, this much they know of real life. It’s one of those regularities that have neither rhyme nor reason.
Without weirdness we would discuss in caves instead of about waves. What is wrong with that? Caves are no place for philosophers. So what’s up with them?
Posted in Carnap
Tagged antinomies, Bergson, Cantor, cultural optimism, Davidson, Deleuze, Gadamer, Gödel, Grice, Hegel, Heidegger, Heisenberg, Hobbes, Kant, language as progress, Nietzsche, Philosophy, Rousseau, tones, Wittgenstein