Over my life I have had several bouts of counselling therapy, with varying results. Just one set was based on the now widely used Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT). I’m sure this would work well for many people, but it wasn’t a great success for me. Of course, now that I know at least some of my problems are neurological rather than psychological I have to expect that any psychotherapy will only take me so far.
In one sense, I do my own CBT in several ways: writing, cooperating with support services (both charities and social service provision), and listening to music. I’m not familiar with music therapy in general terms but I know music helps me when I feel lonely or depressed. What is more difficult is changing my habits that much, unless I gave up things like writing which help me anyway. Moreover, my depression bouts are often about the outside world – it’s my anxiety which tends to be more personal.
I was prompted to reflect on this by reading Stuart Schneiderman’s book Saving Face, and starting to work on a memoir of my own. I agree with Schneiderman that Freud neglected shame (rather than guilt) in his theories, but I have my worries about cognitive therapy being more effective if it works with shame and facing shame, as Schneiderman suggests. In view of the way shame prompts us to pursue status and conspicuous consumption, and the way women have been treated under its influence, I feel that might lead therapists into a Faustian bargain.
I give the German sociologist and philosopher Jurgen Habermas full marks for raising openly the issue of The Future of Human Nature (his recent book). Indeed, leaving gene editing or modification to casual market preferences is dangerous, but do we trust officials or anyone else to regulate it for us? Where I don’t go with Habermas is when he said as long ago as the 1960s that consumption of mass media – then newspapers and TV – is atomistic and isolated. Even then, and before, the readerships and listeners tended to form partisan blocs (providing different markets for particular media operators) despite their physical separation. With the social media of today that is all the more extreme and even the physical separation of users may not apply, especially with children or use at work.
Mass and social media are an excellent example of social realities, frequently observed by Habermas himself, that show how social communication is all too often not a matter of rational debate and openness to good arguments. It has been said that Habermas maintained his theory about the necessity of ‘communicative action’ in the sense of openness to criticism and exchange, despite social realities like the mass media, as being a transcendent reality, inherent in communication – perhaps in a way analogous to the old Catholic idea of Natural Law.
To say the least after millennia of ideas built up on religious faith, Habermas is not the first person to develop transcendental arguments. Yet I plead that transcendental arguments based on claiming a transcendent reality are bad arguments, simply because they beg all the questions. Unless you can convert people who don’t believe the transcendent reality exists (or has any relevance for us?) to a faith beyond proof you are nowhere. Ironically, Habermas can then be forced into trying to shut down rational debate himself by appealing to an unchallengeable position.
A consistent source of frustration for a curmudgeonly old centrist like me is recurrent failures, lack of vision, and inability to connect with the public of those who supposedly stand for moderation and (whisper it) compromise around the world from Japan and Korea to Alabama to the Middle East. It is easy to complain about populist revolts within the West. Not so easy to reconcile anxieties about migration, communities, and culture wars with making peace. The European Union’s legalistic structure does not do well on inspiring popular loyalty.
For close on 70 years now the threat of nuclear annihilation has made many of us scared of tribal loyalties. But more recently menace is joined by bribe in the form of the global economy and communications soon to be reinforced with virtual cryptocurrencies which would almost certainly require international cooperation to regulate at all. (Organised criminals love all this.) There looks to be no prospect of the world’s feuding tribes, ethnic and ideological alike, being stopped by ‘moderates’ or weak and ill-judged appeals to rationality (whatever that means) or even human compassion for those caught in the crossfire. More likely, a global version of the classic Hobbesian and Schmittian solution to conflicts, where some ruthless bastard with the firepower (paid for with Bitcoin?) shuts everybody up. I don’t look forward to that, but I look forward to World War III even less.
The latest copy of The Big Issue reminds me why I am happy to make buying it from time to time my contribution to helping the homeless and struggling. Most often what they say, and John Bird’s Creditworthiness Assessment Bill, shows just the sort of pragmatic, low-key radicalism I reckon will be more helpful to the poor than any amount of intellectual revolution or left-liberal (or ‘neoliberal’!) playacting. The Big Issue are secularism at its best.
According to the National Secular Society the ‘foundation of secularism’ is ‘separation of religion from the state’, whilst the Cambridge Dictionary identifies it as ‘the belief that religion should not be involved with the ordinary social and political activities of a country’. On that unexciting basis almost anyone could be a secularist, including those religious people, of whom there are many, who imagine that their religion can be a purely personal matter for them. No problem about having a dogmatic faith, so long as it’s not to be both classified as ‘religion’ and operate publicly – a ‘cult’ might pass as secularism.
Another irony – the one group we can definitely exclude from the class of secularists, namely, religious ‘extremists’ or ‘fundamentalists’, are precisely the people who make a nonsense of classical sociology of religion as the cohesive binding force which holds society together. In face of rebellion, disruption, or terrorism inspired by any religion traditional conservatism from Burke onward collapses into absurdity. (Roger Scruton please take note.) From a social standpoint religious extremists are the world’s best secularists.
The latest Big Issue gives us one other connection to secularism, with a review of Mary Beard’s Women & Power (very topical). Beard is one of those feminist intellectuals who devotes much energy to studying ultra-macho societies, where religion was kept thoroughly under secular control, and has much of value to say about them. For my sins, my interest in modernity makes me want to ask why we are no longer so keen to exclude and silence women at every turn. I cannot help thinking this is part of why 1914 (rather than 1917) is such a massively important date in world history.
In some moods I can sympathise with the ‘safe spaces’ movement amongst students. If I hear any more about Brexit, Claude Junker, populists and the American gun lobby or so-called ‘Buddhists’ in Myanmar, I’ll feel like throwing the TV out of the window. But, hang on, suppose I did that? Would that make the world a safer place to live in?
Politicians and journalists who talk about universities being places where students (and staff) should be learning to confront issues and argue see only part of the point. The spread of intolerance and dogmatism in much of the world can give any young person trying to find her, or his, way the impression that no one is interested in listening to arguments anyway. All too often the people who stand for compromise lose out – and seem incompetent to boot.
I actually meet people who are deeply unhappy with global capitalism as we find it, but doubt that a viable alternative exists. No wonder the Russian Revolution centenary is a shower, even without the following 100 years of Russian history. It’s not just current affairs that make depressing watching; Bettany Hughes’ Horrible Histories account of those Romans once thought the greatest of civilisations can supplement. In short, arguments and debate can seem like a futile waste of time and effort. Easier, if not safer, to stick with your tribal dogma and hope it’s others getting killed or dispossessed.
Sorry – I don’t have any Messianic solutions to offer beyond more argument and debate – but perhaps the Big issue’s social investment might be worth a thought.
I used to think of myself as something called a ‘liberal’ (not an anarchist, not least because of the way family honour operates) but now I’m not sure what I am. Perhaps I don’t care.
My attitudes are roughly what they always were. But ‘liberal’ seems to be replacing ‘fascist’ as the favourite label for whoever different people don’t like. In academic terminology ‘liberal’ basically stands for keeping the state out of my private life and property – which is not really for me. (‘Private life’ is Fantasy No.1). In American and journalistic parlance ‘liberal’ is someone who is keen on ‘progressive’ social changes, like disability rights or same-sex marriage. I support much of that I detail, but find myself more sure about what I’m against (such as racism) than how a less ideological future might work. Then, of course, ‘neo-liberal’ is all about free markets and deregulation (in business and economy). For me there’s been too much of that already.
For now I not only propose that we abandon the label ‘liberal’ as next to meaningless, but I will also refuse to apply it to myself. I have yet to think of a replacement. That would probably mean coining a new term to describe myself. Whether it’s worth going to that trouble I doubt.
Thanks to President Trump, Twitter, and other related phenomena, we have recently been hearing much about the ‘post-truth society’. I will now say with some confidence that there is no such thing as a post-truth society, and never will be.
It’s easy to get carried away with ‘post-modern’, ‘post-structural’, and the like. As robotics develops we might soon be hearing about ‘post-human’! But the very fact we sometimes find, as we always have, people, not least powerful people like politicians, businesspeople, officials, and so on, being ‘economical with the truth’ if not downright lying, confirms why truth matters and will continue to matter. Would anyone try to avoid the truth if it wasn’t important?
I suspect that when we talk about (moral) obligations to speak or uncover the truth we are talking loosely. It would be more accurate to say that we often have good reasons to rely on truth – and specific truths – and so we set up obligations to respect it. There is nothing arbitrary about perjury being a criminal offence. That is to say, truth is important enough to dictate our morals and even law, and not the other way around.
This is not to say we will ever always stick to the truth, or even should do. Sometimes, a white lie is the kindly thing to do. (The crucial thing is about taking unfair advantage.) But we’ll always be finding too many truths we need to know about, and tell others about, to leave ourselves with a post-truth society.
Russia’s great composer Tchaikovsky illustrated two real points with his final work, the Pathetique Symphony. One, you can be popular being miserable if you do it well enough and, two, it’s easier that way to be soulful – rather than just bombastic. Yet there is a third pitfall awaiting all those who complain that news and news media is depressing and demand more cheer or ‘good news’. Simply, we often agree on what’s gloomy and miserable, so reporters from Syria or Yemen can take a sombre stance with confidence that we won’t complain. But all too often one person’s, or one group’s, or one country’s, good news is someone else’s bad news.
Sometimes, as with sports results, it’s as simple as India rather than Pakistan winning the cricket world cup – obviously good news for Indians and bad news for Pakistanis. In other cases it gets more complicated: do we believe the scientists who tell us that chlorinated chicken is not only 20 per cent cheaper, but it’s safe to eat and so we can happily join the Americans in eating it and save 20 per cent per bird – good news of course? Or do we keep wondering who funds the scientific research and get ourselves miserable over possible conflicts of interest? There are cases, like alarms about fracking or population growth, where we do look quizzically at claims of bad news but at least in those cases we can relax and think ‘Well, if they’re wrong it’ll be fine after all’ whereas if the good news turns out wrong we know we might be really stuffed…
So, next time you complain the news is depressing, just think about what you wish for.
One change I notice since I was a nipper is that we no longer hear about people being ‘non-political’. In my young days it was fairly commonplace to suggest that ‘non-political’ people are typically conservative, but nowadays we’re used to conservatives being as political as anybody.
It is true that we still have rhetoric about ‘shared values’ or ‘what unites us is more important than what divides us’, especially at times of crisis – disasters, terrorist outrages, tragedies, and so on. But rather than being in any sense conservative (or Conservative) this rhetoric has the feel of shared seemly performance as distinct from shared values. Precisely the act of making an appearance in the ‘public realm’ that the social theorist Hannah Arendt talked about 60 years ago. What is more doubtful is whether we become free by making such appearances as Arendt thought we do. It is an open question whether members of Camden Borough Council are acting freely in evacuating people from the Chilcot tower blocks when some of the residents think they are just reacting so as to be seen to be doing something about fire safety.
At least that is very serious. When it comes to TV images, with even Jeremy Corbyn trimming his beard or Emmanuel Macron appearing in smart suits, I wonder whether a resurrected Ms Arendt would just accept the joke is on her, and laugh.
The ‘UKippers’ claim, with apparent justification, to have won the arguments about viability of the European Union and the UK’s ability to survive outside European integration. But they are losing the other argument that Dr. Owen and the SDP lost in the 1980s, namely, about it being possible to be a successful (British) patriotic movement without being Conservatives.
Claire Foges is a Conservative, but backs her ‘Buy British’ appeal with the distinction between patriotism and nationalism or xenophobia familiar in academic arguments about citizenship and ‘republican virtues’. That distinction is a genuine one in the abstract, but all too often politically ineffectual. The last thing Citizen Claire herself wants is for her patriotic appeal to be politically exclusive. Yet the political logic of UKIP’s fading after Brexit is that ‘Buy British’ will turn into a Conservative identity.
Strangely, Citizen Claire’s dilemma arises from the repeated failure of the political Left ever since the French Revolution to avoid matching a demand for inclusive political community with the psychological reality that communal identities on which patriotism depends require separation from those outside. Patriots worldwide regularly try to avoid thus fostering enemies on the lines argued by the fascist Carl Schmitt (successfully more often with sport and entertainment than with politics or economics), but the Schmitt menace always lurks behind the scenes. And the British Conservative Party has a facility for making enemies beyond that of the British themselves.