Completeness as Ideology

The psychological need for an ‘aim’ or ‘end’ is inculcated in us by fictional narrative, made ‘normal’ by our talking of Being rather than, as Heidegger states, Becoming – the latter term though being a more accurate description of “human life”. However, even accepting Heidegger’s distinction, we can see here a connection with the “quest motif” of fictional constructs, in that the central character in literature, film, music, even the speaking ‘I’ of poetry, embarks on a ‘journey’ of some kind (we can look back to the connection with the Puritan spiritual autobiography and to, for example, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales and the poetry of the Renaissance).

This pattern narrative though is more deeply embedded in the socialisation process: it becomes the necessary and sufficient condition of the human person needing to feel (the definition of which I’ll come back to. Suffice to say that, in engaging with Art we are intrigued by the direction of the story and we “emotion-test”, in that we learn, firstly, how to express various emotions [and how we should feel when we ‘have’ these] and, secondly, ‘acceptable’ ways of expressing these) to connected to others. We are encouraged – we might say it is demanded of us – to see our ‘selves’ as incomplete (as “possessing a lack”) if we do not associate/engage with others. This is evidenced by societal insistence on having a ‘partner’, being ‘involved’ in relationships, having ‘friends’, participating in ‘groups’ of one sort or another. Those who do not participate in these ways (or in such thinking) are marginalised, seen as ‘other’. We can detect a class bias here too: working-class people will be seen as ‘dangerous’ or ‘threatening’, whilst middle-class/upper-class people will be seen as ‘eccentric’ – the latter being a far more acceptable, and understanding, term.

There is another contradiction (fragmentation) here: Capitalism insists on ‘community’ and ‘relationships’, positing these as perfect, aspirational ‘goals’, but at the same time fetishising “the individual”. Part of the definition of pattern narrative is the concept of difference to, and from, others, while insisting on a single protagonist, a prime mover. The central Aristotelian idea might be that we can imagine ourselves faced with the same situations as the protagonist, but we feel that we would react differently or in a better way (the basic premise of Reality TV).

We define our ‘selves’ not by our “similarities to”, but by our “differences from” others. My interests are, apparently, mine and mine alone, and these interests change. However, physical resemblance (in the broad, physiological sense) is taken as an indication of mental sameness: Because I resemble others in the world, it is assumed that I share their mental precepts – in the case of capitalist society, that my interests are different to theirs, that each of us are self-interested. We should also note that, in terms of personal identity, continuing physical resemblance from day to month to year to decade is taken as evidence of continuing mental sameness.

In short, pattern narrative is the central concept of the socialisation process. For the narrative of citizenship to exist, and to continue, the human person must identify with the historical narrative of “their country”, see this narrative as ‘natural’, as being part of their own narrative. They must find in their own actions and thinking reflections of “national characteristics”. Yet an essential part of this “national narrative” is the individual as individual, a subject who has their own wants/desires/needs, which are unconnected with those of the other individuals who, en masse, comprise the “nation state”. The interests of these individuals stand in no relation to each other, unless ‘activated’ by the state in regard to competition with other states (economics; war; sport). If we extrapolate this to the relation between individual and state, we can see that the imposition of narrative on individual/individual, individual/others and individual/state is entirely arbitrary.

Narrative also occupies a central position in our ideas of free will and determinism and, subsequently, in the capitalist concept of ‘morality’ (insofar as one can claim that capitalism is capable of a morality – I’m simply using the term here as indicative of my point). The centrality of narrative establishes the “terror of causality”: “If I do X, then Y or Z might be the result”. Thus, we have a consequentialist narrative. However, within capitalist society, this consequentialist narrative is shorn of its “moral thinking” or “moral aspects”, becoming a simple case of asking oneself “If I do X, then what will the consequences be for me?” and “If I do X, how will my actions be judged by others?”. In regard to the latter, we can see manifestations in the current fashion of companies ‘greenwashing’ their activities or universities establishing DEI policies (and a host of others). The emphasis here is on being seen to do, rather than there being any sincerity involved. The distinction is between appearance and reality (see the discussion between Ron and me in the comments section of the previous entry) or, to put it another way, between avoiding the company/university being sued and their being able to blame an individual for “not following our stated policies”. What these policies do, of course, is establish the institution/individual relationship as one based on mistrust; unless told to do so, the employee will “shirk their responsibilities”. This is an important factor in the narrative of business, introducing ‘mistrust’ as a ‘natural’ relation between employer and employee. What this achieves is the infantilisation of the employee, who must be guided, for their own good and that of others, by the employer.

What is built into the pattern narrative is judgement: that fear that ‘others’ will judge my actions, and my (encouraged/inculcated) ‘delight’ in judging the actions of others. Thus, the consequentialist narrative is internalised through constant exposure from infancy. We fear the judgement, therefore, the disapproval of others in society; in our use of social media, this has led to us actively seeking the validation of others. However, what social media has also led to is the rise of populist politics by facilitating anonymity when expressing racist, sexist, homophobic etc. views – these being based on judgement, but also on a refusal to (try to) understand the lives of others. Social media has performed the same kind of function that radio and print fulfilled in the 1930s, albeit on a far wider scale.

We can also observe the ways in which the capitalist class have adapted narrative over the past decades. Those who do not ‘prosper’ are represented as ‘lazy’ or ‘workshy’, their poverty a result of their own lack of ‘drive’. The varied concepts of ‘success’ that once existed have been replaced by a single definition that is financial. Morality, defined as caring about others in virtue of their being human, is depicted as a weakness. Fear of “the other” is a staple item of news programmes (whether that ‘other’ be a terrorist, a refugee, an immigrant, another country etc.). The “business model” is posited as being a “universal good”, its methods applicable to healthcare and education. Personal relationships have become transactional or contractual. Relationships per se have followed these forms too. As Hobbes claimed, life is apparently “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”…

What is to be done? We can identify these ‘elements’ for what they are: ideological constructs. Concepts like “human nature” and “the individual” are functions of power; they have meaning only within capitalist discourse. Dismantle/destroy that structure – or analyse the structure – and we recognise them for what they are: meaningless terms that privilege the ruling class.

The analysis of pattern narrative then reveals the ideological ‘weapons’ of the ruling class. In regards to what we might call the ‘intersection’ of rights and morality, one can argue that each citizen has a set of rights conferred on them by the state, delivered through a set of “moral narratives” – biblical, mythical, anecdotal – which the citizen then proceeds to ‘rediscover’ in the other myriad narratives which they perceive as comprising their ‘real’ lives. One can ask if rights are predicated on the basis of ought/should or ought not/should not. If the latter, then rights appear to enshrine self-interest: compare “I have the right to walk down the street without being assaulted” with “I have surrendered my right to assault others, therefore, they should not assault me”. Could we call this a ‘negative’ narrative? This would be Hobbesian, in that each of us is born with an absolute right to do anything we please, but we surrender certain rights in order to gain others. This makes moral thinking redundant: the idea is not that “Doing X is wrong”, but “I will not do X because I do not want it done to me”. This tends to imply that “If I can do X without being caught, then X did not occur”, in that there is no moral value accorded to X – we cannot say, for instance, that “If I can do X without being caught, then X is ok” because this implies a moral value and that I realise that “Doing X is wrong”. What, however, is the case if this latter formulation is true? “I know that X is wrong, but I still intentionally do X”. This means, bluntly, that I am prepared to behave immorally to benefit myself (in some sense or other). This is the ‘morality’ of capitalism, in that it is the ‘morality’ of the self-interested individual. Yet this is quite obviously immorality, as a necessary condition of morality is the consideration of the well-being of others – a condition which is discounted as meaningless in a capitalist system; in this system, morality is a function of power, which does not apply to the powerful, only the powerless. ‘Morality’ is sleight-of-hand, used to distract from the primacy of the economic; it is allowed to exist, as Baudrillard argues, provided it does not interfere with profit. What we see is the economic being “dressed up” as the moral: redundancies must be made to ‘protect’ “economic viability”. The economic is prioritised over the human person: redundancies are ‘unfortunate’, as is poverty, destitution, powerlessness. Capitalism corrals ‘rationality’ whilst having irrationality as its basis.