How to live well in a world that is dying? Increasingly this
question preoccupies me. It is a question that is directed in the most radical
way at what is most our own, our sense of historicality, of being part of a
continuity that exists beyond any one individual, or even perhaps any single
community or nation. The significance of the dying world is not immediately
ethical but ontological. It disrupts at the base of things, the base on which
most if not all our commonplace notions about what it is to live are grounded.
Finitude for instance is hard enough to appropriate to oneself in the context
of an otherwise cosy continuity of things. How many more times will you watch
the full moon rise? It all seems so endless, but in truth the number is perhaps
quite small. How then to reconcile such a "personal" relationship to
the finite with finitude on the scale of All Things? Let us then call radical finitude the
subjective disposition that identifies one's own finitude with the finitude of
the world, and does so by forging a form-of-life appropriate to it. This
form-of-life born from out of the wreckage of "last days capitalism"
and ecological collapse is the task for anyone who accepts the veracity of the doom
of our time and chooses to stay alive amid the gathering ruins.
Pessimism? Possibly, but its catching; not as contagious as
Coronavirus but almost certainly more socially unacceptable. God knows we need
articulate expressions of pessimism right now as the prevailing cheery
disposition of neoliberalism saturates our culture with sloganistic
admonishments to LIVE YOUR BEST LIFE! Some of us would be satisfied with a
passably happy death, or if not happy, then at least not scrabbling around in
our own shit gasping for breath as the experts circle and the Muzak drones on.
We struggle to appropriate it yet there is no cure for finitude, and thank your
lucky stars for that, as chances are if there were it wouldn't be available on
your level of medical insurance. Most attempts at immortality are reserved for
the rich, hence all the cosmetic surgeons in Beverly Hills. As contenders for
useful pessimistic literature go, this item for consideration recently came
across my desk.
Thomas Ligotti - The
Conspiracy Against the Human Race: A Contrivance of Horror
Penguin Books 2018
(originally published 2010 by Hippocampus Press, New York, NY)
Thomas Ligotti is principally known as a writer of
supernatural horror stories and - in 2016 - one of only two living authors to
have had their work published in Penguin Classics. That the second author is
Morrissey may or may not be construed to take some shine off the accolade.
Unlike his collection, Songs of a Dead Dreamer & Grimscribe, this book is
not fiction. It peaked my interest as a purported expression of philosophical
pessimism, for which I have some interest. However, I was aware of Ligotti's
avowed condition as an anhedonic recluse with a long history of anxiety and
depression, and was hoping he'd provide more than just a projective
rationalisation for his own unenviable situation. Unfortunately, what he has
produced is a work of confusing extremes and by his own admission paradoxes.
There is a lot more going on in the book than a straightforward expression of philosophical pessimism, of which there are numerous strains and degrees. In the first instance this is not really a work of philosophy, indeed at times he's explicit about his disdain for philosophical systems and even logical argumentation. He isn't trying to teach you anything you shouldn't already know; at least, that is, if you share his pessimistic outlook, which he claims quite early on to be rooted ultimately in a individual's innate disposition rather than any rational assessment of things as they are. Given that belief, one almost wonders why he bothered to author a book of this kind since by his own assessment he's either preaching to the converted or appealing to the unhearing masses of deluded happy people. Most of the text is actually an attempt to append a lot of other claims upon his basic pessimistic outlook, including anti-natalism (which despite what he suggests does not flow necessarily from all forms of pessimism), determinism and an odd sort of anti-egoism, in which he claims that the delusion of selfhood ranks highest in the hierarchy of fabrications that compose our lives. As if things weren't bad enough!
Pessimism, philosophical or otherwise has been a rich seam of thought for many centuries and has substantially helped define what philosophy (at least in its continental guise) is today. Though to read Ligotti's book you'd think that all the best writing in this vein had been done by the later part of the 19th century. The most important exception in terms of his argument (such as it is) is a short obscure work by the Norwegian Peter Zapffe, The Last Messiah (1933), which the author introduces us to early in proceedings.
Zapffe's text is mostly a highly rhetorical refashioning of Freud's theses from Civilisation and Its Discontents, with some crude Darwinian flourishes and antique pop psychology thrown in for good measure. The function of culture, which in Freud's essay is framed as a means to draw us away from our savage tendencies - though at the price of making us all neurotic - is in the Norwegian's version a kind of mass deception, keeping human beings with their tragically overdeveloped consciousness from confronting the truth of their bare, meaningless, biological existence. When these cultural strategies, which Zapffe glosses as Isolation, Anchoring, Distraction and Sublimation fail, we are thrown into despair. Or as he puts it: "The dread of being stares us in the eye, and in a deadly gush we perceive how the minds are dangling in threads of their own spinning, and that a hell is lurking underneath". You can see why a horror writer might be attracted to this and I suppose he's entitled to his pet miserablist. Zapffe is the intellectual bare bones upon which Ligotti hangs the lion's share of the book, most of the work of which is done by the end of the long first chapter titled The Nightmare of Being, in which he applies the learning of Zapffe to subjects as wide ranging as Buddhism, science-fiction films, cognitive psychology and a somewhat implausible phenomena called "ego-death".
One of the difficulties of Ligotti's exposition is that he consistently conflates the tradition and propositions of so-called “negative thought” – an anti-dialectical current running through late 19th century philosophy, in particular the writings of Kierkegaard, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche – with a more common or psychological pessimism which has occasionally been termed “depressive realism”. The latter maintains that non-depressed people hold a “positivity bias” which colours their general outlook, whereas the supposed “negativity bias” of the depressive actually gives a more realistic appraisal of the world. I would argue that most of the opinions expressed in the book (especially those on politics and psychology) emanate from a position of depressive realism rather than a philosophically informed negativity or pessimism, and it’s this which accounts for the at times heavy handed or just plainly dismissive approach the author takes. This is shown clearly in his discussion of emotion which he declares to be the "substrate for the illusion of being a somebody among somebodies", merely "living arbitrarily". And here he make a key distinction: "to live falsely as pawns of affect, or to live factually as depressives, or as individuals who know what is known to the depressive" (p104).
Plainly then Ligotti feels his depressive state gives him an advantage, though the empirical research into this claim has found little evidence. Moreover, does the mere capacity to feel emotion render life arbitrary? Intuitively this seems false. Most people have a fairly good handle on how they react to particular situations and our perception of a person's personality and character is largely dependent on a degree of consistent affective response. If we are such false and arbitrary creatures why is genuine personal change considered to be such a hard thing to achieve?
What strikes the reader throughout the book is the vehemence of Ligotti's exposition, and its hard generalisations. For instance, even the central concept of pessimism is for the author very black and white: "People are either pessimists or optimists. They forcefully "lean" one way or the other, and there is no common ground between them. For pessimists, life is something that should not be, which means that what they believe should be is the absence of life, nothing, non-being, the emptiness of the uncreated" (pg30). This is the extreme position that the author takes with him for his subsequent survey of an idiosyncratic selection of traditions, scientific disciplines and phenomena. It's as if he felt he could only undertake this work from the position of an uber-pessimist, the effect of which is to invalidate from the get-go most of what he covers as "just not pessimistic enough". This is perhaps symptomatic of the above mentioned dichotomy he sets up between preaching to the converted and "happy idiots".
Schopenhauer, for instance - whose general sentiment he approves of - is otherwise dismissed, owing to his unwieldy philosophical system and assertion of his concept of the "Will-to-live"; just another "intellectual labyrinth for specialists in perplexity", according to Ligotti, showing an unendearing anti-intellectualism. There's virtually nothing from the existentialist tradition beyond Schopenhauer, perhaps for the good reason that many of those philosophies accept Ligotti's axiomatic view of the objective meaninglessness of human existence, but go on to produce works which nevertheless avoid the extreme conclusions Ligotti believes follow naturally from that first premise. The philosophies of Heidegger, Sartre and Maurice Merleau-Ponty all start with the existence (or facticity) of human beings as a meaningless negativity, or 'thrown-ness' to use Heidegger's term in translation.
There is undoubtedly some just plain nasty posturing in the book. Ligotti's attitude to environmentalism is one example, which he considers a "barricade" against the facts of life; a cause "that snubs the real issue. Vandalism of the environment is but a sidebar to humanity's refusal to look into the jaws of existence" (pg64). Now, one could try to claim this was a poorly articulated variant of Heidegger's critique of technology, which views the destruction of the natural world as an extension of the "forgetting of Being". But that would be granting to Ligotti far too much. In truth the book is littered with grumpy expressions of this kind, which seem grounded in little else than the author's desire to shock. Despite what Ligotti may think, the 'Disenchantment of the World' - to use Max Weber's famous expression - is not fresh news to the average educated reader. Given the prognosis it's surprising he didn't use the global climate crisis as a more materialist grounding for his outlook. Radical finitude and apocalypse have no place in his pessimistic ontology.
It's possible that the unusual force of his exposition is due to it being composed from within the American context, home to widespread fundamentalisms of all shades and where his most basic claims would undoubtedly shock a significant proportion of the population. From the thoroughly disenchanted and disillusioned shores of Europe, however, he appears like a man battering down an open door.
While Ligotti is content to diminish the ontological stability of the self through his commitment to determinism and denial of the existence of the ego (Jacques Lacan would support him here), his nihilism stops short at fields which produce results that chime with his world view; these primarily being 19th century psychiatry and modern cognitive science.
Accordingly, the self is a fabrication comparable to those other empty distractions he lists such as religion, the Nation and the family. Science is apparently not such a fabrication or distraction. Though one might well question what sort of science is possible without a degree of ontological stability for the knower. If we cannot even be certain about the status of the self, then any knowledge of the external world and by extension, any possible science, seems on very shaky ground. When it comes to epistemology Ligotti is a highly selective Pyrrhonian skeptic, unequivocal about the groundless nature of our intuitions, our sense of self and any feelings that life might be ok. Yet when it comes to cognitive science, evolutionary biology and 19th century psychiatry he's happy to take many of their knowledge claims at face value, though often with regret that they're not pessimistic enough. Where is the epistemological ground upon which the claims of these fields are based? And indeed, following Zapffe, is not all science just another distraction, another story we're telling ourselves about ourselves to avoid the dark truth of the "MALIGNANTLY USELESS" (Ligotti's capitalisation) rut of being in which we exist?
There is a strong sense that in all this he insists too much, and there is a great deal of repetition and hyperbole in many of his observations. The book is also bereft of anything by way of structure, which given its tone makes it a less than pleasant reading experience. Each chapter drifts rather arbitrarily between popular culture, science and literature without ever reaching a conclusion. This all changes for the final chapter, Autopsy on a Puppet: an Anatomy of the Supernatural. Here it's as if a curtain has been pulled back and light allowed into a dusty old room. For the final quarter of the book Ligotti's tone changes markedly, ditching the posturing and instead embarking on a mini history of supernatural horror fiction. Here he writes fluidly and positively about his chosen field and its antecedents, from Ann Radcliffe in the late 18th century through Poe, Lovecraft, and even forays into Shakespeare and the works of Joseph Conrad. There are some interesting observations about the role of "atmosphere" in Schopenhauer and how it links with a sense that "behind the scenes of life there is something pernicious that makes a nightmare of our world" (p175). In another register the desire to find out just what that "something" is became a highly prominent feature of late 19th and early 20th century Western thought and is sometimes referred to as "the hermeneutics of suspicion". It is an epithet frequently applied to the works of Marx, Nietzsche and Freud, all of whom were arguably pessimists, though in different ways.
There is little else to say about the book except to highlight another paradox of this author. In an interview Ligotti gave in the wake of the book's original publication in 2011 he claimed to identify as a socialist and argued that a concern for justice was paramount, especially where the issue of reducing suffering was at stake. And yet here the same author writes: "Both the inhumane and humane movements of our species are without relevance. None of us are at the helm of either of these moments. We believe ourselves to be masters of our behaviour - that is the blunder" (p226).
Quite how he can square his commitment to socialism with this statement and the whole gamut of other dead-end positions he takes in The Conspiracy Against the Human Race is anyone's guess. From the perspective of his commitment to determinism, where is the sense in talking about justice and injustice? And from the perspective of the pessimist, where would the motivation even come from to attempt to change things as they stand, let alone institute some (admittedly rather palliative) form of socialism? As he repeatedly says, we are just deluded puppets. Taking all Ligotti's positions together at face value leaves us with neither knowledge of the self or the outside world, nor the will to get out of bed to open the front door in order to find out. No political program could possibly emerge from it.
This is undoubtedly a book of paradoxes which is often frustrating and at times hard to take seriously. I would not recommend it for anyone interested in the tradition of philosophical pessimism. It clearly reflects Ligotti's interests and his psychology but makes no attempt to argue a coherent position or address up-to-date scholarship. I'm left wishing he'd dedicated more time to his reflections on the history of supernatural horror, which I found insightful and far more readable than what had gone before. Perhaps the joke is on us and the cranked up nihilism (which elsewhere he refutes) and no-holds-barred pessimism is an attempt at a new kind of horror literature. Undoubtedly some passages do stick in the memory, though I'm not sure they do so for the right reasons. I'm reminded of Jhonn Balance: Why be bleak when you can be Blake? The question of a form-of-life suitable to our world remains very much open.
There is a lot more going on in the book than a straightforward expression of philosophical pessimism, of which there are numerous strains and degrees. In the first instance this is not really a work of philosophy, indeed at times he's explicit about his disdain for philosophical systems and even logical argumentation. He isn't trying to teach you anything you shouldn't already know; at least, that is, if you share his pessimistic outlook, which he claims quite early on to be rooted ultimately in a individual's innate disposition rather than any rational assessment of things as they are. Given that belief, one almost wonders why he bothered to author a book of this kind since by his own assessment he's either preaching to the converted or appealing to the unhearing masses of deluded happy people. Most of the text is actually an attempt to append a lot of other claims upon his basic pessimistic outlook, including anti-natalism (which despite what he suggests does not flow necessarily from all forms of pessimism), determinism and an odd sort of anti-egoism, in which he claims that the delusion of selfhood ranks highest in the hierarchy of fabrications that compose our lives. As if things weren't bad enough!
Pessimism, philosophical or otherwise has been a rich seam of thought for many centuries and has substantially helped define what philosophy (at least in its continental guise) is today. Though to read Ligotti's book you'd think that all the best writing in this vein had been done by the later part of the 19th century. The most important exception in terms of his argument (such as it is) is a short obscure work by the Norwegian Peter Zapffe, The Last Messiah (1933), which the author introduces us to early in proceedings.
Zapffe's text is mostly a highly rhetorical refashioning of Freud's theses from Civilisation and Its Discontents, with some crude Darwinian flourishes and antique pop psychology thrown in for good measure. The function of culture, which in Freud's essay is framed as a means to draw us away from our savage tendencies - though at the price of making us all neurotic - is in the Norwegian's version a kind of mass deception, keeping human beings with their tragically overdeveloped consciousness from confronting the truth of their bare, meaningless, biological existence. When these cultural strategies, which Zapffe glosses as Isolation, Anchoring, Distraction and Sublimation fail, we are thrown into despair. Or as he puts it: "The dread of being stares us in the eye, and in a deadly gush we perceive how the minds are dangling in threads of their own spinning, and that a hell is lurking underneath". You can see why a horror writer might be attracted to this and I suppose he's entitled to his pet miserablist. Zapffe is the intellectual bare bones upon which Ligotti hangs the lion's share of the book, most of the work of which is done by the end of the long first chapter titled The Nightmare of Being, in which he applies the learning of Zapffe to subjects as wide ranging as Buddhism, science-fiction films, cognitive psychology and a somewhat implausible phenomena called "ego-death".
One of the difficulties of Ligotti's exposition is that he consistently conflates the tradition and propositions of so-called “negative thought” – an anti-dialectical current running through late 19th century philosophy, in particular the writings of Kierkegaard, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche – with a more common or psychological pessimism which has occasionally been termed “depressive realism”. The latter maintains that non-depressed people hold a “positivity bias” which colours their general outlook, whereas the supposed “negativity bias” of the depressive actually gives a more realistic appraisal of the world. I would argue that most of the opinions expressed in the book (especially those on politics and psychology) emanate from a position of depressive realism rather than a philosophically informed negativity or pessimism, and it’s this which accounts for the at times heavy handed or just plainly dismissive approach the author takes. This is shown clearly in his discussion of emotion which he declares to be the "substrate for the illusion of being a somebody among somebodies", merely "living arbitrarily". And here he make a key distinction: "to live falsely as pawns of affect, or to live factually as depressives, or as individuals who know what is known to the depressive" (p104).
Plainly then Ligotti feels his depressive state gives him an advantage, though the empirical research into this claim has found little evidence. Moreover, does the mere capacity to feel emotion render life arbitrary? Intuitively this seems false. Most people have a fairly good handle on how they react to particular situations and our perception of a person's personality and character is largely dependent on a degree of consistent affective response. If we are such false and arbitrary creatures why is genuine personal change considered to be such a hard thing to achieve?
What strikes the reader throughout the book is the vehemence of Ligotti's exposition, and its hard generalisations. For instance, even the central concept of pessimism is for the author very black and white: "People are either pessimists or optimists. They forcefully "lean" one way or the other, and there is no common ground between them. For pessimists, life is something that should not be, which means that what they believe should be is the absence of life, nothing, non-being, the emptiness of the uncreated" (pg30). This is the extreme position that the author takes with him for his subsequent survey of an idiosyncratic selection of traditions, scientific disciplines and phenomena. It's as if he felt he could only undertake this work from the position of an uber-pessimist, the effect of which is to invalidate from the get-go most of what he covers as "just not pessimistic enough". This is perhaps symptomatic of the above mentioned dichotomy he sets up between preaching to the converted and "happy idiots".
Schopenhauer, for instance - whose general sentiment he approves of - is otherwise dismissed, owing to his unwieldy philosophical system and assertion of his concept of the "Will-to-live"; just another "intellectual labyrinth for specialists in perplexity", according to Ligotti, showing an unendearing anti-intellectualism. There's virtually nothing from the existentialist tradition beyond Schopenhauer, perhaps for the good reason that many of those philosophies accept Ligotti's axiomatic view of the objective meaninglessness of human existence, but go on to produce works which nevertheless avoid the extreme conclusions Ligotti believes follow naturally from that first premise. The philosophies of Heidegger, Sartre and Maurice Merleau-Ponty all start with the existence (or facticity) of human beings as a meaningless negativity, or 'thrown-ness' to use Heidegger's term in translation.
There is undoubtedly some just plain nasty posturing in the book. Ligotti's attitude to environmentalism is one example, which he considers a "barricade" against the facts of life; a cause "that snubs the real issue. Vandalism of the environment is but a sidebar to humanity's refusal to look into the jaws of existence" (pg64). Now, one could try to claim this was a poorly articulated variant of Heidegger's critique of technology, which views the destruction of the natural world as an extension of the "forgetting of Being". But that would be granting to Ligotti far too much. In truth the book is littered with grumpy expressions of this kind, which seem grounded in little else than the author's desire to shock. Despite what Ligotti may think, the 'Disenchantment of the World' - to use Max Weber's famous expression - is not fresh news to the average educated reader. Given the prognosis it's surprising he didn't use the global climate crisis as a more materialist grounding for his outlook. Radical finitude and apocalypse have no place in his pessimistic ontology.
It's possible that the unusual force of his exposition is due to it being composed from within the American context, home to widespread fundamentalisms of all shades and where his most basic claims would undoubtedly shock a significant proportion of the population. From the thoroughly disenchanted and disillusioned shores of Europe, however, he appears like a man battering down an open door.
While Ligotti is content to diminish the ontological stability of the self through his commitment to determinism and denial of the existence of the ego (Jacques Lacan would support him here), his nihilism stops short at fields which produce results that chime with his world view; these primarily being 19th century psychiatry and modern cognitive science.
Accordingly, the self is a fabrication comparable to those other empty distractions he lists such as religion, the Nation and the family. Science is apparently not such a fabrication or distraction. Though one might well question what sort of science is possible without a degree of ontological stability for the knower. If we cannot even be certain about the status of the self, then any knowledge of the external world and by extension, any possible science, seems on very shaky ground. When it comes to epistemology Ligotti is a highly selective Pyrrhonian skeptic, unequivocal about the groundless nature of our intuitions, our sense of self and any feelings that life might be ok. Yet when it comes to cognitive science, evolutionary biology and 19th century psychiatry he's happy to take many of their knowledge claims at face value, though often with regret that they're not pessimistic enough. Where is the epistemological ground upon which the claims of these fields are based? And indeed, following Zapffe, is not all science just another distraction, another story we're telling ourselves about ourselves to avoid the dark truth of the "MALIGNANTLY USELESS" (Ligotti's capitalisation) rut of being in which we exist?
There is a strong sense that in all this he insists too much, and there is a great deal of repetition and hyperbole in many of his observations. The book is also bereft of anything by way of structure, which given its tone makes it a less than pleasant reading experience. Each chapter drifts rather arbitrarily between popular culture, science and literature without ever reaching a conclusion. This all changes for the final chapter, Autopsy on a Puppet: an Anatomy of the Supernatural. Here it's as if a curtain has been pulled back and light allowed into a dusty old room. For the final quarter of the book Ligotti's tone changes markedly, ditching the posturing and instead embarking on a mini history of supernatural horror fiction. Here he writes fluidly and positively about his chosen field and its antecedents, from Ann Radcliffe in the late 18th century through Poe, Lovecraft, and even forays into Shakespeare and the works of Joseph Conrad. There are some interesting observations about the role of "atmosphere" in Schopenhauer and how it links with a sense that "behind the scenes of life there is something pernicious that makes a nightmare of our world" (p175). In another register the desire to find out just what that "something" is became a highly prominent feature of late 19th and early 20th century Western thought and is sometimes referred to as "the hermeneutics of suspicion". It is an epithet frequently applied to the works of Marx, Nietzsche and Freud, all of whom were arguably pessimists, though in different ways.
There is little else to say about the book except to highlight another paradox of this author. In an interview Ligotti gave in the wake of the book's original publication in 2011 he claimed to identify as a socialist and argued that a concern for justice was paramount, especially where the issue of reducing suffering was at stake. And yet here the same author writes: "Both the inhumane and humane movements of our species are without relevance. None of us are at the helm of either of these moments. We believe ourselves to be masters of our behaviour - that is the blunder" (p226).
Quite how he can square his commitment to socialism with this statement and the whole gamut of other dead-end positions he takes in The Conspiracy Against the Human Race is anyone's guess. From the perspective of his commitment to determinism, where is the sense in talking about justice and injustice? And from the perspective of the pessimist, where would the motivation even come from to attempt to change things as they stand, let alone institute some (admittedly rather palliative) form of socialism? As he repeatedly says, we are just deluded puppets. Taking all Ligotti's positions together at face value leaves us with neither knowledge of the self or the outside world, nor the will to get out of bed to open the front door in order to find out. No political program could possibly emerge from it.
This is undoubtedly a book of paradoxes which is often frustrating and at times hard to take seriously. I would not recommend it for anyone interested in the tradition of philosophical pessimism. It clearly reflects Ligotti's interests and his psychology but makes no attempt to argue a coherent position or address up-to-date scholarship. I'm left wishing he'd dedicated more time to his reflections on the history of supernatural horror, which I found insightful and far more readable than what had gone before. Perhaps the joke is on us and the cranked up nihilism (which elsewhere he refutes) and no-holds-barred pessimism is an attempt at a new kind of horror literature. Undoubtedly some passages do stick in the memory, though I'm not sure they do so for the right reasons. I'm reminded of Jhonn Balance: Why be bleak when you can be Blake? The question of a form-of-life suitable to our world remains very much open.
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