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324 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1984
“A number of things give us hope,” write Ehrlich and Harriman in the conclusion to their environmentalist manifesto, How to Be a Survivor, a book full of alarming predictions of overpopulation, global wars, and ecological disasters. “The first is that survival itself is the issue. Once people understand that, they will fight like hell for it.” On the contrary, people committed only to survival are more likely to head for the hills. If survival is the overriding issue, people will take more interest in their personal safety than in the survival of humanity as a whole. Those who base the case for conservation and peace on survival not only appeal to a debased system of values, they defeat their own purpose.
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When it comes to [preventing] nuclear war, no one can argue that a willingness to risk [conventional] war today will save lives tomorrow. No one can accuse opponents of nuclear war, as Mumford accused opponents of war in 1940, of forgetting that a life sacrificed at the right moment is a life well spent. Sacrifice has no meaning if no one survives. It is precisely the experience of mass death and the possibility of annihilation, among other developments, that have discredited the ethic of sacrifice and encouraged the growth of a survival ethic. A desire to survive at all costs ceases to be wholly contemptible under conditions that call into question the future of humanity as a whole. The same conditions have made the idea of timely sacrifice untenable. To ask people to lay down their lives in a nuclear war, on the grounds that the future “extends beyond the incomplete personal life of the individual,” is a moral absurdity. (pp. 78-79)
In the history of civilization, the emergence of conscience can be linked among other things to changing attitudes toward the dead. The idea that the dead call for revenge, that their avenging spirits haunt the living, and that the living know no peace until they placate these ancestral ghosts gives way to an attitude of genuine mourning. At the same time, vindictive gods give way to gods who show mercy as well and uphold the morality of loving your enemy. Such a morality has never achieved anything like general popularity, but it lives on, even in our own enlightened age, as a reminder both of our fallen state and of our surprising capacity for gratitude, remorse, and forgiveness, by means of which we now and then transcend it. (p. 259)
Christopher Lasch is celebrated as an historian and social critic. His ideas can be simultaneously appreciated and detested by people across all spectrums of politics and beliefs—a sign he’s touched a nerve. This sequel to his famed The Culture of Narcissism explores more thoroughly the social consequences of a “therapeutic” mindset. The recent developments of the 20th century (i.e. World Wars, consumerism, technological advances…etc.) conditioned society toward a narcissistic disposition which seeks protection against a fragile self, fears commitment, dreads limitations, and seeks the promotion of self-image. This narcissism becomes concretized in the institutions of culture, infecting mass culture, politics, religion, art, and more. The therapeutic sensibility which normalizes dependency presumes upon an improper construction of the self which manifests in cultural pathologies.
Borrowing from a Freudian perspective, Lasch understands the basis of selfhood as "the acknowledgement of our separation from the original source of life [i.e., the mother, womb], combined with a continuing struggle to recapture a sense of primal union by means of activity that gives us a provisional understanding and mastery of the world without denying our limitations and dependency." (20). It is our task to reconcile our self with the fact of being thrown into a world of necessity via properly exercised acts of self-consciousness. A proper relationship with our self and nature becomes the end of our self-development. Such a state of the self is aware of both its limitations and its capacities. It is neither nostalgic nor fanciful. Pathologies occur when this relationship is improperly considered or imbalanced.
Consequently, this disposition inevitably reenacts infantile feelings of helplessness. This, according to Lasch, fundamentally defines the pathology of the modern era. The concern for the narcissist is merely with psychic survival. "In a time of troubles, everyday life becomes an exercise in survival. People take one day at a time...Under siege, the self-contracts to a defensive core, armed against adversity." (15) This manifests in the desire for absolute material independence and self-sufficiency while also avoiding binding relationships. For this enclosed self, nothing seems worth the trouble except for the here-and-now. Meaningful relationships are reimagined as potential liabilities, family-life is considered burdensome, and limitations are obstacles demanding to be conquered. We sense life is constantly at the knifes-edge of catastrophe. And even supposedly future-oriented concerns like climate change activism only hijack this impulse when they articulate policy solutions as primarily being necessary for our "survival."
This perspective informs Lasch's analysis of his cultural milieu. He's able to see this "siege mentality" in many places. From left-right politics to minimalist art, the common consequence is a dissolved self. Once you notice it, you'll see it everywhere. The prevalence of mass culture, the promises of technology, the rampancy of consumerism, the never-ending doomsday narratives, and even the infatuation with victimization in politics all emphasize the troubled state of affairs within the culture of Narcissism. (Here, his criticism of capital “L” Liberalism which presumes upon an unencumbered self and the primacy of self-interest is very sharp). Different kinds of therapeutic techniques promise relief, but Lasch reveals how their efforts are often self-contradictory and do not properly reconcile the self with its external world.
His analysis offers a fresh perspective on the ills of our culture. In his view, the common man is less a selfish hedonist or "will-to-power" egoist, but a fundamentally vulnerable self which feels perpetually anxious. The solution is not a rigid moralism, stoicism, or libertinism, but a vision of the world which turns the narcissist's face away from his own reflection. A vision of the world which can be understood as not merely an extension of our own self-interests but as something other-than and permanent. The very fact the Narcissist is so on edge and feels this profound discontentment in the first-place hints that our self demands a higher existence. "If men were moved solely by impulse and self-interest, they would be content, like other animals, simply to survive. Nature knows no will-to-power, only will-to-live. With man, needs become desires, even the acquisitive enterprise has a spiritual dimension, which makes men want more than they need." Lasch ends with an Aristotelian alternative reminiscent of Alasdair Macintyre which considers man as having a nature not reducible to material existence. The application of practical reason (in contrast to technique) produces a more excellent self which is able to properly relate itself to the external world.
This jeremiad text from the 80s reminds us that so much has changed in 40 years and yet, not very much at all. His analysis of culture somehow reads more potent than the time of writing, and his words remain tried and true. Understanding the modern pathology as a "siege mentality" should recalibrate the perspective we hold of our neighbor and our culture. It also helps diagnosis the unconscious ways we ourselves have absorbed with way of thinking. His frustratingly brief explanation of an Aristotelian-like solution hints that our true remedy is more theological than he may realize. Additionally, I get the sense his diagnosis of Narcissism and its discontents can probably find a better home in a full Aristotelian tradition rather than with Freud (Acedia and Its Discontents: Metaphysical Boredom in an Empire of Desire by R. J. Snell or Leisure: The Basis of Culture by Josef Pieper would serve as interesting comparison pieces at this point). Lacsh knows something is wrong with culture but his own peculiar psychoanalytic background distracts from his diagnosis and seems ill fitted to his hinted-at solutions. Overall, readers will probably find his parroting of Freud very jarring and the middle part of the book distracting. His dated cultural references throughout continually remind the reader that they are reading a book 40 years old. Still, the book's age does not betray his central analysis and only shows that his prophetic warnings are still worth heeding.