Mario Vargas Llosa’s newest book of essays takes on large questions about the state of culture in our contemporary society, pointing out its deficiencies and examining how they came about, but ultimately offering few remedies for what ails culture today. The book consists of six chapters of new essays on Big Themes (religion, politics, education); each essay is followed by “Antecedents,” one or two earlier pieces that Vargas Llosa wrote for El País where the seeds for these new essays were sown. The Antecedents tend to be reactions to specific cultural phenomena (such as the controversy over the Muslim veil in French public schools or an exhibition of Picasso’s erotic art), as opposed to the wide-ranging diatribes of the new essays. In addition, there is an introduction that charts the course of the meaning of the word “culture” through the writing of several thinkers over the past century, and a “Final Reflection” that concisely restates the book’s various theses.
The central question of the book is: Why is culture getting more and more banal and superficial, until it has become a pale imitation of what our parents and grandparents understood by the word? This deterioration, according to MVL, has led to a world without aesthetic values, in which the humanities are nothing more than secondary forms of entertainment. Where the purpose of art used to be a critical examination of the human condition, of morality, and an attempt at transcendence, today our highest priority is entertaining ourselves; we have subjugated all else to that goal.
The introduction and first two chapters of the book take on the subject of culture in general. What we mean by “culture” has changed from what is was for T.S. Eliot when he wrote his “Notes Toward the Definition of Culture,” which emphasized a traditional structure where an “elite minority” were the caretakers of high culture. The disappearance of that elite group who established hierarchies and aesthetic paradigms is tied closely to the market and the commodification of culture. But there is another, just as important reason: the attempt to democratize culture and put it within everyone’s reach. This well-intentioned goal has led not to increased creative freedom, but rather an increasingly frivolous and superficial culture that has no grounding in tradition and is adrift in a glut of information.
The remaining chapters focus on how we came to this “banalization” by looking at different areas of our society: education, eroticism, politics, and religion. Present in all of these discussions is the effect of the preponderance of audiovisual media, which have replaced more permanent art forms like books, and have imposed and perpetuated a world where spectacle is king. MVL is concerned about the loss of privacy in contemporary society, where thanks to the Internet we can know all and divulge all, and mistake that for freedom of expression. The disappearance of the private realm has been instrumental in disarming politics and encouraging corruption and sensationalist journalism; it has also brought about a world where sex is cold and animalistic, robbed of ritual and secrecy and its artistic potential.
In his final reflection, MVL wonders if words like “spirit, ideals, pleasure, love, solidarity, art, creation, beauty, soul, and transcendence” mean anything anymore, and if so, what? Culture’s reason for existing used to be to answer this sort of question. Today it no longer has that responsibility, but has become something much more superficial: on one hand, a diversion for the wider public and, on the other, a rhetorical, esoteric and obscurantist game for tiny groups of vain academics. This last is directed largely at postmodern thinkers like Jean Baudrillard or Michel Foucault, whom he accuses of muddying the waters of criticism with their cryptic theories.
Vargas Llosa tends to present problems as dualities rather than spectrums. He takes exception to a definition of culture that encompasses Wagner and Hitchcock, Nietzsche and John Ford, not to mention Coca-Cola ads. He laments the loss of “objective” aesthetic hierarchies, and doesn’t seem to question whether these are in fact possible. He believes in progress, which leads him to be pessimistic about the present and future but optimistic in his view that a better world is possible. He takes comfort in classifications and hierarchies, which can in turn make a contemporary reader uncomfortable. There is a fundamental tug of war in MVL’s book. On the one hand, he has an ever-present nostalgia for the order of Eliot’s world, where the canon was king and culture belonged to an educated elite who mediated it for the wider public. On the other hand, he seems to want culture to be unifying, and for high culture to have a deeper impact on a wider public; instead of being the province of academia (an elite minority?), high culture should be vitally important in our daily lives and provide a counter to the dominance of the market.
Reading La Civilización del espectáculo, I often felt like I was listening to an old man reminiscing about the good old days, or, at times, scolding the youngsters for their lack of seriousness. But of course it’s not that simple or straightforward, because for all the crotchety techno-dystopianism that makes his writing feel like the last gasps of the canon-worshipping, Great Books-reading old guard, he also puts his finger on some troubling aspects of our society. The basic lament that we are forgetting what’s really important in an effort to entertain, distract, and divert is one few will argue with. Ultimately, the book is a defense of the humanities and a rallying cry to all those who deplore the commercialization of culture and society’s general unwillingness to think deeply about big questions. The problem is that MVL looks backward rather than forward for solutions—he himself says he is “uninterested in the future.” But to those who see positive aspects to the democratizing effects of new technologies, or who can’t entirely mourn the passing of the white male canon, simply returning to our grandparents’ idea of culture isn’t even an ideal to strive for. MVL wants culture to fill some big shoes in our society—to act as conscience in the realm of politics, replace religion as a means of transcendence, even, ultimately, to save the world by safeguarding our minds against the kind of extremism that leads to violence and war. But it seems to him the only way to accomplish this is an impossible return to the certainties of the past.
Above all, MVL is asking the questions that must be asked of any age: What role does culture have in society? What is lost and what is gained as we slough off old forms and ideas and adopt new ones? What effects do new technologies have on our ways of thinking? The book participates in the ongoing discussion about the role of the humanities in our increasingly information-driven world. Its answers are fundamentally conservative and never interrogate the preconceptions of the person giving them. The person giving them, of course, is a Nobel prizewinner possessed of a brilliant literary imagination. A person, too, who is capable of lucidly articulating his arguments and examples while occasionally taking them in questionable directions, as when a cogent and insightful discussion of the intricacies of politics, corruption and the media devolves into a rant about the evils of DVD and book pirating. Reading this book, I felt as I always do with MVL’s essays: The foundations of his thought are sound and almost incontrovertible, grounded in humanism and liberalism. Though I often disagree with where he ends up, the journey is eye-opening and my internal argument with him helps me crystallize where I stand myself on some very important issues. It’s a book that will appeal to academics and anyone involved in the humanities; it also has the potential, because of who its author is and the accessibility of his writing, to bring a wider audience into the conversation about culture.