The thing about any book by Bauman is that he crams more ideas per page than just about any other writer I can think of. And many of these ideas stop you reading so that you can mull over them for a while. Which, therefore, makes even a relatively short book like this one something that can take a while to read. It also means any review can only really skim across the surface in the hope you might read the original for the wealth available there.
In many ways I could sum up the point of this book by saying that life in what Bauman refers to as the ‘liquid modern’ phase of history we are currently living through is something we need to take on as a project, and that this something that we cannot put off or ‘not do’. All of the choices we make are choices that impact on our life and life’s course. We might as well approach life as if we were constructing a work of art. If this were all Bauman was saying this book would hardly be worth reading – rather you would be better off reading one of the ‘how to’ books he refers to as having a best before date somewhat between milk and yoghurt. His point is that this idea of ‘life as project’, ‘life as performance’ or ‘life as work of art’ is a remarkably recent one in human history and one that only makes sense given other things we probably take for granted about our world.
For instance, prior to capitalism people were much more likely to be born into whatever it was they were going to be – if you were born a peasant or a prince that was great, but you certainly didn’t get to choose to stop being one and become the other – no matter what your ‘personal attributes’ were. Social mobility, as such, simply did not exist. And this is important, since it meant that the degrees of freedom you had in making your own life a ‘work of art’ – in constructing your own pathway through life –were similarly non-existent.
This is not likely to have been much of a problem to people, not just for the obvious reason that you can’t mourn what you never had (in fact, we live in a world where the vast majority of people are encouraged most of the time mourn what they have never had – it is the only thing that keeps capitalism going) but more because being constrained by the life paths we were born into meant that a well-lived life was one in which that path was pursued with honour, grace and attention. None of those words are necessarily the right word, by the way (which is part of the reason you got all three) – the idea is that in the universe of that now bygone society each individual had, at birth, a fixed position and path to pursue, and their worth was measured in their dedication to pursuing that path.
Now, this isn’t as ancient an idea as it might sound. As Bauman says, in many ways this kind of meta-choice was the focus of Sartre’s philosophy and something Bauman himself followed while he was a young man – and although Bauman is now about as old as the world allows you to get, while I’m writing this he is still alive – he is still referring to a time that wasn’t all that long ago. As he says, once-upon-a-time the general path was what you chose (I’m going to become a poet, I’m going to become a doctor, etc) and then there were signposts along the way to direct your footsteps. There were clear things you would need to learn (different in either case, but still relevant for ALL poets or ALL doctors) according to pathways selected. That is, people could choose various destinations, however, the pathways to those destinations stayed pretty much the same and well-trodden. That isn’t the case today – increasingly, what you know and can rely on to ‘work’ today, you can more or less assume will cause you problems tomorrow.
This also implies a relationship to ‘art’ that is somewhat different to how we think of art today – something Bauman spends quite a bit of time discussing. You see, in this bygone world the life paths available to be chosen were essentially permanent, and so to create one’s life in such an environment – to create one’s life as a work of art in such an environment – implied constructing a ‘work of art’, or a ‘life project’ that would be also basically ‘permanent’. The attraction is similar to the work of architects of public buildings in the 18th or 19th centuries – these buildings were designed to last and to reflect a kind of perfect harmony in classical proportions (think columns and balance – sturdy persistence). Rather than the decidedly temporary public buildings of today. No one really expects even celebrated buildings of today to last for centuries, and certainly not for millennia. The destruction of the World Trade Centre was shocking – but none of us would have expected those buildings to outlast the pyramids. That really wasn’t their point.
And this is a theme that Bauman returns to time and time again. For instance, he talks about a young woman delighted that the shorts she bought at Top Shop are shown in Vogue and therefore this goes to justify her taste. His point is that this means she is likely to continue shopping at Top Shop, to use this label as a way to construct her identity – the difference is that she certainly won’t be shopping at Top Shop for the same sort of shorts the next time she goes there – even if her old pair have, by that time, been worn threadbare. Not only will that style of shorts no longer be available, but she wouldn’t even want them even if they were. The point today is that everything is in flux all of the time – the constants are in finding the ‘good taste’ to create one’s own identity and to constantly engage in the creative act of identity creation – and this is a kind of work of art.
Except, of course, the example given here is one of the problems we are confounded with in this ‘project’ – that is, since capitalism exists by, as he says somewhere else, constantly reducing the distance between the showroom and the rubbish bin, consumerism is a kind of cheap version of identity formation – but just as cheap as it is, it is also ubiquitous, unavoidable and inevitable. We are what we buy and what we buy is structured by the kinds of people we believe ourselves to be.
Much of the start of this book considers the contradictory aspects of ‘happiness’. Aristotle says in his Ethics that the good life is a happy life (well, sort of – what is translated as ‘happiness’ really says something closer to ‘good spirited’). Anyway, happiness seems like an obvious thing for us to pursue – in fact, the pursuit of happiness is one of those things Americans can be heard to mumble under their breaths while holding their hands over their hearts and voting for Trump. Happiness is a pretty good thing, it is not hard to see why people might be fond of it, but it might be even better if we could define it. Shakespeare’s sonnet 129 – The expense of spirit in a waste of shame – shows that even the greatest of happinesses are short lived and anything but ‘obviously good’. As a very dear friend said to me once, some people inject heroin because they say it feels like having seven orgasms all at once – and I avoid it for much the same reason.
The problem with happiness is we are so terrible at having the least idea about what will help us be happy. What is interesting is that our current social organisation is such that it stresses individual happiness and this is very much ‘inner’ directed. The metaphors Bauman uses to discuss this are those of centripetal and centrifugal forces – both are forces that from the ‘centre’, but one draws toward and one away from that centre. Here he provides a sustained critique of Nietzsche – always a good thing – and by implication also Foucault, at least to the extent that Foucault can be read as a follower of Nietzsche’s ‘will to power’ – only ever a partial reading.
But even here the complications do not stop. How are we to be moral? For Nietzsche this question is basically ‘who deserves to be treated morally?’ and by this he says that the vast majority of humanity are simply unworthy of anything but contempt – freedom is wasted on the masses of humanity because they lack the nobility that would allow them to make a real difference to the world – the weak, the botched and the bungled created morality as a way to constrain the great and the worthy. I’ve always hated Nietzsche’s work, so, I find Bauman’s critique of it here well worth reading. But I have to stress my own prejudice.
We are left wondering if morality is even possible. One of the points Bauman makes is that we generally would not consider something to be a moral act if it came with a calculation of the costs and benefits associated with doing the act. You know, if I save a child from drowning as a spontaneous act then that is moral – but if I do it while anticipating some reward I might receive from the child’s parents, that is not so good.
And the most powerful thing here is his discussion of those people in Poland who during the Nazi occupation hid Jews, knowing that if they were caught it meant death. Sociologists studied the standard characteristics of these people – religion, class, level of education, that sort of thing – and found that none of these predicted who would and who would not act morally to the extent of risking their own lives to save the lives of others. As he says, what court of law would convict you for not risking your own life to save the lives of others? Except, there is a court that will convict you of that, even completely unreasonably – your own conscience. Perhaps that is why Nietzsche is so popular today – who better to justify the accidents of birth that privilege some while punishing others while making these accidents appear as expressions of merit?
Now, don’t get me wrong here – I think a lot of the choices we think we make as an expression of our free will are not nearly as free as we like to imagine. In fact, a lot of this book stresses allowing such choices to be left to our natural inclinations, and these, as Bourdieu would stress, are formed by our socialisation. But what I said in the last paragraph – as contradictory to this paragraph as it is possible to be – still holds. There is no simple equation that links cause and effect here – there are butterfly effects that make causation appear as random accidents. And it is in this confusion amidst the impossibility of calculation that ‘free will’ appears to us. Ultimately, our choices might well be a reflection of our pre-knowledge and experience – but if it still feels like a free choice, then that is where the art of life resides – within the choices we make, however constrained. The problem is that so much of what we are presented with in life is a kind of three card trick that makes us feel like individuals while purchasing the latest style of hot pants from Top Shop…