It's rare that you hear sarcasm from politicians. Hearing
one speak, you sense a sociolinguistic barrier whereby humanity is kept
to a minimum. The issues they address, and the ways in which they address them, are far reduced from what would be either acceptable or expected from a non-politician. To be politically correct is, more or less, to sound like a politician. They have a strictly limited
language-game - of course, they themselves do not set these limits; the press and the universities do, more or less.
A language-game, quite simply, is some subset of a language that is used within a certain sphere of activity - a context-dependent collection of names. So the way you talk to your spouse involves a different language-game from that you use with your co-workers; different words are used, certain words may mean different things, and even the grammar may differ.
Language-games vary in complexity. We communicate with pets, for example, with rather simple language-games, involving mere commands, and at most the rudiments of syntax. Some language-games, or sets of words within a language-game, are
ideographies - that is, they are meaningful not just within a certain context, but specifically a certain ideological context.
Modern and postmodern political discourse are full of ideographies. As
nydwracu explains:
In short, an ideography in the political sense is a set of ideographs: terms assigned a particular emotional load by an ideology for use in its rhetoric.
So ideographs tie emotions to abstract concepts. They are a kind of
thought-terminating cliché or
semantic stopsign, serving to sever a line of inquiry, to arrest any further analysis.
They may function as
applause lights - words like "freedom", "democracy", "equality", etc. are often used to indicate to an audience that it's time to cheer. They can also be used oppositely - "racism" and "homophobia", for example.
Many of these ideographs are also
pseudologs. A pseudolog is either a word that ties something real to something unreal, or ties something common to something rare or excessive. A
strong pseudolog does the former, and a
weak pseudolog the latter.
Take for instance "democracy", as it is commonly used: the idea is that the People as a collective shall have power, but the reality is that power is
inevitably held by a small minority no matter the form of government, and that in representative or even direct democracy, the tendency is for this minority to be largely made up of shitty people. Hence democracy is a strong pseudolog of what I consider to be
kakistocracy (rule by the worst).
However, since "democracy" is used variably and is easily qualifiable as a term, we might say that a word more precise, such as
isocracy, is potentially even more pseudological. But since it is not in common use and is rarely if ever applied to anything that exists, it is in practice merely a fantasy word, and not a pseudolog.
Weak pseudologs, again, make a link not between real and unreal, but between typical and extreme. These, too, are common in contemporary social and political discussions - "sexism", for example. What does this word actually mean? In feminist usage, anyway, it falls upon what we'll call a
linguistic blind spot: it takes something so universal that it has never really had or needed a name - that is, the understanding that men and women are different and thus require different standards of judgement - and links it to the extreme of misogyny. "Misogyny" is itself similarly abused these days; the language-game of feminists is one which brings words like "man" and "rapist" closer together. Again, weak pseudology: semantically embedded exaggeration.
An even better example of a weak pseudolog would be "racism". This word, too, hits a linguistic blind spot: it connects very common things which have no specific words (racial solidarity and/or recognition of socially significant racial differences) - to something extreme (racial hatred and/or violence).
The use of ideographs will often seem absurd to readers outside the
ideology to which they belong. An average American going through Nazi
political material would almost certainly find the references to Volksgemeinschaft, das Führerprinzip, and Jewry
to be, at the very least, disorienting, similar to the feeling one gets
when traveling to a foreign country and finding that the toilets have
foot pedals instead of flush handles. But then, so would the average
Nazi upon hearing the constant references of Western political material
to the somewhat isomorphic concepts of liberty, democracy, and fascism.
For an example closer to home, consider the reaction of the average
American ‘liberal’ (I’ll dispense with my usual scare quotes from here
on out; just keep in mind that, contrary to my usual practice, all terms
are to be taken in their usual American senses) to Newt Gingrich’s “secular socialism” routine.
There is certainly a conceivable degree of incommensurability between ideographies, but not more than between the ideologies underlying them. We may also find that one ideology can come to dominate through the use of its ideographs by other ideological factions.
It is reasonable to expect that in such an arrangement the favored ideology would be that which originated or most applies the shared ideographs. Indeed, this is exactly what we see:
Universalism is of such force that its ideographs spread beyond nominally progressive ideologies. Back to nydwracu:
Can an isomorphic example, of a conservative reaction to a sound bite
applying the liberal ideography, be constructed? It is possible to come
close, with, for example, the constant charges of racism leveled at
just about every conservative figure and movement, but there is one
crucial difference: liberals don’t respond emotionally to “secular
socialism”, but conservatives most definitely do to “racism”. In fact, as the conservative line
on affirmative action demonstrates, “racism” is just as much a part of
the conservative ideography as the liberal one. And, for that matter,
the white supremacist one: David Duke uses it.
Pretty pervasive ideograph we have here, if a former Grand Wizard of
the Ku Klux Klan uses it to deliver the exact same emotional load as Tim Wise.
They both agree that racism is a Bad Thing; the only difference is in
the definition. Duke wants to apply it to Wise, and vice versa. Any
debate between the two (ignoring that, in reality, at least one of the
two would have to be carted off by security five seconds in) would
almost certainly consist mostly of redefinitions of the term, and other
ideographs common to the American political arena. These semantic games
are common: witness the attempt
of Roger Scruton, one of the few conservatives with two brain cells to
rub together, to split the positions he disagrees with that can be
supported by the positive ideograph “liberty” into a new, negative ideograph, “license”, instead of rejecting the ideograph altogether.
It is clear, then, that in addition to the conservative ideography,
there exists an ideography shared by just about the entire American
political arena, which I will call the American ideography. Its contents
include, on the positive side, liberty, equality, freedom, democracy, progress, fairness, and justice, and on the negative side, racism, fascism, and anything related to Hitler.
Mainstream American conservatism has no ideographic boundaries, and thus its ideological ones are easy to traverse. We're seeing on the level of the language-game a manifestation of
Robert Conquest's Second Law of Politics: Any organization not explicitly right-wing sooner or later becomes left-wing.
The astute reader will, by now, have picked up on an omission:
nowhere have I mentioned liberal ideography. There is a reason for this
omission: there may be a few minor differences, but at least on the
major points, the liberal ideography
is the American
ideography. Most ideographs used by liberals are also used by
conservatives, and with the same intended effect. (This is less so on
the alt-right; one of the many instances of convergent evolution between
Mencius Moldbug and the European New Right is their explicit
refudiation of that ideography.)
Now consider the history of the American ideography. Its terms’
associations have changed consistently, and in a consistent direction:
leftward. Equality under the law became equality of opportunity, and is
now becoming equality of outcome. Freedom from the tyranny of a single,
unelected, overactive monarch became
freedom from fear and want,
and is now becoming freedom from any sort of moral judgment of all but
the most repulsive forms of libertinism. And so on. Considering the
structure and history of this ideography, and its identification with
‘Americanism’,
there can be no American Right. The American
ideography does not hold promise for conservatives, and yet they do not
challenge it; in fact, they do the opposite, and in doing so, sign their
own death sentence.
That is the failure of conservatism.
The ideological/ideographical changes which have consistently moved America (and the West generally) leftward have deep roots. They were already prominent in the era of Abolitionism. George Fitzhugh
notes in his 1854
Sociology for the South that "slavery is a form, and the very best form, of socialism", but also that "Socialism is already
slavery in all save the master." Thus we see a dialectic of slavery whereby Abolition leads to a liberal reconstitution of the abolished practice:
Abolition is the first
step in Socialism: the former proposes to abolish negro
slavery, the latter all kinds of slavery - religion, government,
marriage, families, property - nay, human nature
itself. Yet the former contains the germ of the latter,
and very soon ripens into it; Abolition is Socialism in
its infancy.
So
Socialism is a classic strong pseudolog, associating the abolition of dominance with totalizing submission. And the dialectical interplay goes even deeper:
...the world is divided between two philosophies.
The one the philosophy of free trade and universal
liberty - the philosophy adapted to promote the
interests of the strong, the wealthy and the wise.
The other, that of socialism, intended to protect
the weak, the poor and the ignorant. The latter
is almost universal in free society; the former
prevails in the slaveholding States of the South.
Thus we see each section cherishing theories at
war with existing institutions. The people of the
North and of Europe are pro-slavery men in the
abstract; those of the South are theoretical
abolitionists. This state of opinions is readily
accounted for. The people in free society feel the
evils of universal liberty and free competition,
and desire to get rid of those evils. They propose
a remedy, which is in fact slavery; but
they are wholly unconscious of what they are
doing, because never having lived in the midst of
slavery, they know not what slavery is. The citizens
of the South, who have seen none of the
evils of liberty and competition, but just enough of
those agencies to operate as healthful stimulants to energy, enterprise and industry, believe free
competition to be an unmixed good.
So liberation forms a sociological
Malcolm Effect - basically a recurring reset of the
Butterfly Effect; sensibility to initial conditions moves us beyond the Edge of Chaos to endure disorder until a new
equilibrium is reached. I conclude, looking at the repeating pattern of which Abolition and the
War of Secession make up merely one iteration, that the Left - both as a set of ideas and as a language-game - is either an agent of sociopolitical
meta-instability or an expression of it; and more directly, that developments in the field of propaganda have corresponded closely with the pattern. With that in mind, let's examine further this leftward trend.
The Abolition crusade and the War of Secession came three generations before the advent of modern public relations - that is, propaganda in 20th-century form. Propaganda did not see a significant change in technique until the entry of the United States into the
First European Civil War, and this also marks a major change in the language-game, and specifically the ideography, of US politics. Note Woodrow Wilson's
words to Congress in 1917:
We are glad, now that we see the facts with no veil of false pretense
about them, to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world and for
the liberation of its peoples, the German peoples included; for the
rights of nations great and small and the privilege of men everywhere to
choose their way of life and of obedience. The world must be made safe
for democracy.
The Founders of the US were not fond of "democracy" - however different in actual fact, they preferred the term "republic" and
argued against "democracy". The fact that Woodrow Wilson is here using its furtherance as a reason for war is therefore of great significance. It indicates a shift in the American ideography. As book records
show us, Wilson made his address to Congress at the time of a sharp general uptick in the use of his chosen word. We also see that it has tended to show such surges in frequency during war since then, but not before:
In April 1917, the month he made that address to Congress, Wilson created the
Committee on Public Information to sway American public opinion in favor of military involvement in Europe - in other words, to propagandize. Working with the Committee was Edward Bernays, nephew of Sigmund Freud, who went on to lead the rise of modern public relations.
In his 1928
Propaganda, Bernays makes unqualified use of the word "democracy" from the first page, but it's clear that he isn't referring to isocracy:
The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the
organized habits and opinions of the masses is an
important element in democratic society. Those who
manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling
power of our country.
We are governed, our minds are molded, our
tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men
we have never heard of. This is a logical result of
the way in which our democratic society is organized.
Vast numbers of human beings must cooperate in
this manner if they are to live together as a smoothly functioning society.
Our invisible governors are, in many cases, unaware of the identity of their fellow members in the
inner cabinet.
They govern us by their qualities of natural leadership, their ability to supply needed ideas and by their
key position in the social structure. Whatever attitude one chooses to take toward this condition, it
remains a fact that in almost every act of our daily
lives, whether in the sphere of politics or business,
in our social conduct or our ethical thinking, we are
dominated by the relatively small number of persons—a trifling fraction of our hundred and twenty
million—who understand the mental processes and
social patterns of the masses. It is they who pull the
wires which control the public mind, who harness old
social forces and contrive new ways to bind and guide
the world.
He later says:
No serious sociologist any longer believes that the
voice of the people expresses any divine or specially
wise and lofty idea. The voice of the people expresses the mind of the people, and that mind is
made up for it by the group leaders in whom it believes and by those persons who understand the
manipulation of public opinion. It is composed of
inherited prejudices and symbols and cliches and
verbal formulas supplied to them by the leaders.
Bernays thus explains the then-recently emergent public relations profession as practiced by what he terms "the new propagandists", which he distinguishes from the older sort by their calculated use of classical and operant conditioning:
If you can influence the leaders, either with or
without their conscious cooperation, you automatically
influence the group which they sway. But men
do not need to be actually gathered together in a
public meeting or in a street riot, to be subject to the
influences of mass psychology. Because man is by
nature gregarious he feels himself to be member of
a herd, even when he is alone in his room with the
curtains drawn. His mind retains the patterns which
have been stamped on it by the group influences.
A man sits in his office deciding what stocks to buy.
He imagines, no doubt, that he is planning his purchases according to
his own judgment. In actual
fact his judgment is a melange of impressions
stamped on his mind by outside influences which unconsciously control
his thought. He buys a certain
railroad stock because it was in the headlines yesterday and hence is
the one which comes most prominently to his mind; because he has a
pleasant recollection of a good dinner on one of its fast
trains; because it has a liberal labor policy, a reputation for honesty;
because he has been told that J. P. Morgan owns some of its shares.
It is not sufficient to understand only the mechanical structure of society, the groupings and
cleavages and loyalties. An engineer may know all
about the cylinders and pistons of a locomotive, but
unless he knows how steam behaves under pressure
he cannot make his engine run. Human desires
are the steam which makes the social machine work.
Only by understanding them can the propagandist
control that vast, loose-jointed mechanism which is
modern society.
[...]
The old-fashioned propagandist, using almost exclusively the appeal of the printed word, tried to
persuade the individual reader to buy a definite
article, immediately. This approach is exemplified
in a type of advertisement which used to be considered ideal from the point of view of directness
and effectiveness:
"YOU (perhaps with a finger pointing at the
reader) buy O'Leary's rubber heels—NOW."
The advertiser sought by means of reiteration and
emphasis directed upon the individual, to break down
or penetrate sales resistance. Although the appeal
was aimed at fifty million persons, it was aimed at
each as an individual.
The new salesmanship has found it possible, by
dealing with men in the mass through their group
formations, to set up psychological and emotional
currents which will work for him. Instead of assaulting sales resistance
by direct attack, he is interested in removing sales resistance. He
creates
circumstances which will swing emotional currents
so as to make for purchaser demand.
If, for instance, I want to sell pianos, it is not sufficient to blanket the country with a direct appeal,
such as:
"YOU buy a Mozart piano now. It is cheap.
The best artists use it. It will last for years."
The claims may all be true, but they are in direct
conflict with the claims of other piano manufacturers, and in indirect competition with the claims
of a radio or a motor car, each competing for the
consumer's dollar.
What are the true reasons why the purchaser is
planning to spend his money on a new car instead of
on a new piano? Because he has decided that he
wants the commodity called locomotion more than
he wants the commodity called music? Not altogether. He buys a car, because it is at the moment
the group custom to buy cars.
The modern propagandist therefore sets to work
to create circumstances which will modify that custom. He appeals perhaps to the home instinct which
is fundamental. He will endeavor to develop public
acceptance of the idea of a music room in the home.
This he may do, for example, by organizing an exhibition of period music rooms designed by well
known decorators who themselves exert an influence
on the buying groups. He enhances the effectiveness
and prestige of these rooms by putting in them rare
and valuable tapestries. Then, in order to create
dramatic interest in the exhibit, he stages an event
or ceremony. To this ceremony key people, persons
known to influence the buying habits of the public,
such as a famous violinist, a popular artist, and a
society leader, are invited. These key persons affect
other groups, lifting the idea of the music room to a
place in the public consciousness which it did not
have before. The juxtaposition of these leaders,
and the idea which they are dramatizing, are then
projected to the wider public through various publicity channels. Meanwhile, influential architects
have been persuaded to make the music room an
integral architectural part of their plans with perhaps a specially charming niche in one corner for
the piano. Less influential architects will as a matter
of course imitate what is done by the men whom they
consider masters of their profession. They in turn
will implant the idea of the music room in the mind
of the general public.
The music room will be accepted because it has
been made the thing. And the man or woman
who has a music room, or has arranged a corner of
the parlor as a musical corner, will naturally think
of buying a piano. It will come to him as his own
idea.
Under the old salesmanship the manufacturer said
to the prospective purchaser, "Please buy a piano."
The new salesmanship has reversed the process and
caused the prospective purchaser to say to the manufacturer, "Please sell me a piano."
It's easy to see how such methods could come to dominate cultural trends - Bernays certainly did. He
took advantage of womens' high from gaining Suffrage to help get rid of the taboo at the time on women smoking and thus boost sales of Lucky Strike cigarettes; he
outdid himself on making the color green fashionable for a time; he overthrew a government and marketed bananas - for the same
client. He made truer and truer what Fitzhugh remarked in 1854:
Trade is a war of the wits, in which
the stronger witted are as sure to succeed as the
stronger armed in a war with swords. Strength
of wit has this great advantage over strength of
arm, that it never tires, for it gathers new
strength by appropriating to itself the spoils of
the vanquished.
Bernays in fact operated on similar principles to those of Fitzhugh, believing that some men were meant effectively to act as masters by directing our ideas and actions through the practice he describes of string-pulling. But his effect was silently to push American culture further along its visible leftward path. The things Bernays understood, and the models he used, were steadily absorbed into the mainstream, applicable as they were to nearly any industry. He thus contributed to what
amounted to a restandardization of standardization itself. Not a generation after Bernays wrote
Propaganda had the marketing of movies, radio, and television alike developed a homogeneity of technique. As Theodor Adorno of the Frankfurt School
describes in 1944:
The sociological theory that the loss of the support of objectively
established religion, the dissolution of the last remnants of
pre-capitalism, together with technological and social differentiation
or specialisation, have led to cultural chaos is disproved every
day; for culture now impresses the same stamp on everything.
[...]
Movies and radio need no longer pretend to be art. The truth
that they are just business is made into an ideology in order
to justify the rubbish they deliberately produce. They call themselves
industries; and when their directors’ incomes are published, any
doubt about the social utility of the finished products is removed.
[...]
But any trace of spontaneity from the public in official broadcasting
is controlled and absorbed by talent scouts, studio competitions
and official programs of every kind selected by professionals.
Talented performers belong to the industry long before it displays
them; otherwise they would not be so eager to fit in. The attitude
of the public, which ostensibly and actually favours the system
of the culture industry, is a part of the system and not an excuse
for it. If one branch of art follows the same formula as one
with a very different medium and content; if the dramatic intrigue
of broadcast soap operas becomes no more than useful material
for showing how to master technical problems at both ends of the
scale of musical experience – real jazz or a cheap imitation;
or if a movement from a Beethoven symphony is crudely “adapted”
for a film sound-track in the same way as a Tolstoy novel is garbled
in a film script: then the claim that this is done to satisfy
the spontaneous wishes of the public is no more than hot air.
[...]
The ruthless unity in the culture industry is evidence of what
will happen in politics. Marked differentiations such as those
of A and B films, or of stories in magazines in different price
ranges, depend not so much on subject matter as on classifying,
organising, and labelling consumers. Something is provided for
all so that none may escape; the distinctions are emphasised and
extended. The public is catered for with a hierarchical range
of mass-produced products of varying quality, thus advancing the
rule of complete quantification. Everybody must behave (as if
spontaneously) in accordance with his previously determined and
indexed level, and choose the category of mass product turned
out for his type. Consumers appear as statistics on research
organisation charts, and are divided by income groups into red,
green, and blue areas; the technique is that used for any type
of propaganda.
So as Bernays and Adorno both describe, the applied propaganda mechanism allows for the creation of markets - that is, the creation of crowds - ready to be advertised to in some differentiating way. This manufacture of faction allows for the manufacture of trend - a divide-and-conquer approach, focusing consumer attention and thus maintaining some degree of stability in an unstable system. It allowed for a high degree of sameness to be kept under various names. And in politics - as Bernays called it, "the first big business in America" - this would soon be fully realized as well.
And in the 1960s, the culture industry did something truly spectacular.
Civil Rights, feminism, hippies, the SDS, the Situationists, and
countless other forces were directed against "the establishment" - and
the establishment simply absorbed them. Give a rebel a record deal, or a book deal, or a weekly talk show - turn his radical, subversive ideas into saleable soundbites - and you'll find the dog does little more than bark. Better yet, make his memory
sacred in State ideology. John Lennon was free to make
Harrison Bergeron-esque
proposals because they were the opposite of threatening to the system. This was the triumph of left-wing capitalism - a combination whose two components hate each other, yet keep each other alive.
But since the half or so of America who did not fully accept these new values did not simply go away, they themselves formed a market to be sold to on the basis of
not being part of the other group. These two broad factions, "liberal" and "conservative", could be set against each other through continual mutual framing, and thus were new cultural lines drawn. This is reflected in our current governmental structure - as Mencius Moldbug puts it,
red government versus blue government. But today we also have the Internet, which has brought acceleration and
decentralization to the transmission of propaganda. We would expect,
then, a degree of fragmentation. People today easily place themselves in ideological bubbles. Through Facebook,
YouTube, and thousands of online forums, people form communities and coalitions through which one's understanding of history, of the news, and of politics, is framed. There are anarcho-primitivists and 9/11 Truthers and Maoists and hundreds of other virtual factions, each with its own language-game. But the majority of them agree, no doubt, that "racism" is bad and that "rights" are good.
So we must ask: what keeps the American ideography, and the ideography of the Internet-connected world in general, so left-wing? What maintains
Godwin's Law? What can we do to better our current trajectory?
There are numerous answers to these questions, some obvious and some not. Their provision I leave to the reader and to future posts.