¿Qué es lo peor que nos podría pasar? [What is the worst that could happen to us?]

¡Revolución por revolución! [Revolution for revolution’s sake]

The lyrics above are those of the song La Novedad Chilean group Tus Amigos Nuevos. The song in itself is gorgeous. The drums are exquisite with this all-encompassing mix, and the guitar riffs, and hooks are simply out of this world. But, what has been most troubling me recently is the lyrics. Enigmatic, and vague, the song repeats the same phrases throughout the 4-minute song. But the opening has stuck to me like a chewing gum sticks to the sole of a shoe. Not for nothing, but because I have associated the lyrics not so much with a political revolution, but in the general meaning of the word ‘revolution’, of a transformation of something; of superseding a previous state. Associating the lyrics to an epistemic or philosophical revolution, I have started to think of the implications of the question. Would it be the worst thing to transform the given philosophical canon for transformation’s sake? In a way, I sense that most pop-philosophers, pseudo-philosophers, intellectual-influencers, and others, are guided by such a desire. The performance principle of the current era (as per Marcuse), or the achievement society’s ethos (as per Han), throws us towards that type of orientation toward philosophy. 

Part of doing philosophy, and I imagine working in any field in the contemporary era, is to feel like you are not contributing to it in any meaningful way. There is just so much input into any field, that to bring a new idea seems impossible, and yet it seems that is what we ought to do. We must, somehow, bring into the ongoing conversation something of novelty. Truth is, we know that this ‘novelty’ is very much not “creating from nothing”, but rather commenting on something in a way that has not been done, that be it because it has not been interpreted in that way, because we have not thought of connecting two points or whatever ––at least in Philosophy, I cannot fathom the angst of trying to come up with a new design, for example. But, how much can we actually comment on anything without starting to become simplistic, altogether false or simply put, stupid. 

Social media is perhaps a great place to find that area of stupidity. As was noted a few days ago by Mexican philosopher Fer Bustos here, there is a tendency to over-analyze everything. As he notes, there are posts on instagram that analyze the paintings in the background of the new film The Drama. Everyone is trying to become the new it-philosopher or it-cultural-critic. Yet, do these types of analysis help at all? That is, when we start, collectively, analyzing everything around us for analysis’ sake, or worse, for transformation’s sake,  is there some intrinsic value in that? I don’t have an answer as of now. But what I do know is that in general this analysis-oriented being-in-the-cyberspace, this ethos of possible-grandeur-seeking is futile in several respects. First, commentary on culture, philosophy, politics, etc., must start conversations. Analyses must not only be produced but need to be productive to be called good analyses. What we, in Philosophy, note as the most influential texts are so because of their productive dimension, because of the responses they had. However, what conversations are these posts getting towards? Social media is not the promised public sphere it was once thought it would be. The other way around, completely, social media is both an echo-chamber and a hostile environment. We encounter what we hate and what we love, but we do not encounter nor do we promote in them some sort of conversation. At most, the productive role of these analyses will be a name drop or fact-drop, and a quick “I saw it on Tik Tok”. 

Second, and related to novelty, most of these ‘analyses’ are watered down (often incorrect or miscomprehended) conceptualizations of important concepts. You cannot escape Judith Butler. Or at least the version that social media paints of them, one that miscomprehends their philosophy, and yet everywhere you see “x is performative”, along with a reference to Butler. The same happens for Foucault, Deleuze, and perhaps most often, for Zizek and Fisher, who have been caricaturized to the point of becoming a phantasmagoria of them. It was not too long ago that I read a tweet that stated “oh to go on a date with someone and read capitalist realism to know we cannot think otherwise from capitalism”. 

But, perhaps, all of this is only but a symptom of the general media illiteracy and anti-intellectualism that the late capitalist system has provoked, all too efficiently. The average social media user cannot understand the value of a text if it is not value-for-the-user. Literally commodifying knowledge, the social media user bows to no one but to self-help books, often transforming rich philosophies into self-help. 

But I would be lying if I said that I have not been influenced. I have been doubting myself a lot recently. Can I bring anything into philosophy? I want to be a philosopher, write marvelous texts. But, for what? For my name to be remembered, for a transformation? For revolution’s sake? During a meeting of the journal where I am an editor, discussing a paper submission, I mentioned: “the author shows this all too well, but what are the implications of it all? What should we do with it?”, to which a peer responded that: “well, not all papers need to have a value or implication clearly written, there is a value in it for its own sake”. Clearly, I am plagued by what Marcuse called the performance principle. I can only think and speak in terms of productivity; I have sublimated capitalist productivity into my own philosophical outlook. So, perhaps, trying to push aside my productivity-infested libido, it is not wrong in itself that we over-analyze. A vicissitude of over-analysis is that it is the gateway towards ‘real’ analysis. Many people have been influenced by social media to actually embark into philosophy in a ‘serious’ way. And, to those who are unengaged, uninterested, these glimpses, albeit watered-down, may be better than nothing. But this should not be how we do over-analysis. There can be an emancipatory way of over-analyzing. One in which we create our spaces of desire. An over-analysis of a different future. So, is the worst thing that could happen to us a revolution for revolution’s sake? Depends. Under the performance principle infested production, definitely. Conscious attempts towards an over-analysis of a different future may be a possible way to sublimate this mental disorder. And perhaps, through this other ethos, over-analysis may be fictitious. I am, however, still unsure.